Chapter Sixty-Three: Homecoming

The very instant Lu Qian killed Li Lin, he wasted no time in fleeing. Given that the man above was Li Lin’s uncle, Li Lin’s death was certain to draw his attention. Events quickly proved Lu Qian’s suspicions correct. In a flash, the two behind him were reduced to ashes.

Lu Qian had clearly underestimated the investigative powers of a cultivator at the Spirit-Nourishing stage; almost instantly, a stern and imposing aura locked onto him. Another wave of sinister flame descended from the sky.

Boom!

Scorching radiance engulfed everything within a hundred feet. Lu Qian felt his blood boiling, the stench of singed hair rising around him. Gritting his teeth, he unleashed a jet-black water dragon that spiraled with wisps of blue smoke.

The sinister fire in front of him was extinguished. Seizing this rare opportunity, he melded into the shadows and vanished, escaping the jaws of death.

From the sky came a furious snort. The pursuer wished to press the attack, but was intercepted by another.

On the road, Lu Qian dared not pause for a single moment. The scenery on either side blurred past. Along the way, he encountered disciples from other sects—even some from his own. They were fighting over some medicinal herb or killing for treasure, but Lu Qian could not be bothered to linger.

“A cultivator at the Spirit-Nourishing stage is truly this powerful. I must reach that realm myself!” Uncertainty flickered in Lu Qian’s eyes.

Though the difference between the late Qi-Refining stage and the early Spirit-Nourishing stage seemed but a single level, spells cast by the latter were vastly more formidable. Their comprehension of the laws far surpassed that of Qi-Refining cultivators.

In truth, Lu Qian could have matched such an opponent for several rounds using the Seven-Slaughter Yin Talisman Sword. But that would have drawn far too much attention.

In the entire Daoist Temple, not to mention Spirit-Nourishing experts, among the Qi-Refining disciples only he had cultivated the Yin Talisman Sword to the level of Seven Slaughters.

After three days, Lu Qian spotted, looming in the midst of shadowy mist ahead, a grand hall.

Upon entering, he saw several people sitting in small groups on the floor, all bearing wounds of varying severity. Lin Qing was there as well; assigned to logistics, she had avoided much of the danger.

Deeper within the hall, several Daoists stood in shadow, their faces obscured beneath carefree kerchiefs. Their features were indistinct, and from their high platform, their elongated shadows stretched across the floor like the claws of demons.

At the center of the hall stood a woman clad in black, her figure exquisitely graceful. She met Lu Qian’s gaze and, to his surprise, gave a slight nod. Lu Qian’s heart skipped a beat, and he saluted her with cupped hands.

This woman was none other than Lady Liu Ruyi, the master of the Hall of Spiritual Treasures.

In truth, she was technically his teacher’s wife. Of course, Lu Qian dared not acknowledge this connection and pretended not to know her. If she ever learned how familiar he was with her shadowy past, he would surely be doomed.

“Lu Zhiqian, my worthy nephew—do you remember me?” Suddenly, a scholarly middle-aged man with refined features appeared at Lu Qian’s side.

“Of course I do. Greetings, Steward Fang,” Lu Qian replied with a respectful salute.

This was Fang Su, one of the eight chief stewards. Lu Qian had seen him before, during his coming-of-age ceremony.

“I see your vital energy is rich and your eyes are bright; it seems your cultivation has borne fruit,” Fang Su remarked, stroking his beard.

“Just a few small insights—nothing worth mentioning,” Lu Qian replied, unwilling for now to reveal that he had already broken through the Qi-Refining stage.

“And this is...?” Lu Qian shifted the topic, turning to the young man at Fang Su’s side.

This youth was about Lu Qian’s age, with handsome features and a chilly demeanor, a certain charm that would no doubt ensnare many maidens outside the sect. Most striking were his eyes—clear, luminous, and emerald green.

“This is the Hall Master’s favored disciple, called Long’er,” Fang Su said with a smile, “and this is Lu Qian, the prodigy from the apothecary, whom I just mentioned.”

Long’er was the Hall Master’s only student, found at the mountain’s base twenty years ago, without a surname—only the name Long’er.

“A pleasure, Brother Lu Qian. My master just praised you and told me to learn from you,” Long’er said with an amiable smile, his manner warm as spring sunshine.

“I’m honored. Greetings, Brother Long,” Lu Qian replied, returning the salute.

Sure enough, as Li Du’s disciple, he had long since caught the Hall Master’s attention.

“Would you like to further your studies in the Pill Chamber?” Fang Su suddenly asked.

Lu Qian hesitated for a moment before politely declining, “My skills are still shallow, and my grasp of alchemy is but a beginner’s. Perhaps another time.”

The longer one stayed in the sect, the more one understood the workings of the Dark Serenity Temple. The power held by superiors over their subordinates was immense—not that they could kill at will, but there were countless ways to make life unbearable.

Lu Qian harbored too many secrets; all he sought was a quiet place to cultivate. As for alchemy, he already had his own plans.

Alchemy techniques could be bought; what the Pill Chamber offered was access to resources and guidance from elders.

Seeing Lu Qian’s resolute attitude, Fang Su did not press further. After a brief, casual conversation, Lu Qian soon took his leave.

Three months had passed. More than forty percent of those in the hall were gone; most who remained looked weary and wounded. Seven or eight new Qi-Refining cultivators had emerged.

Lu Qian kept his silence. For the sect, this excursion into the Netherworld had brought loss far greater than gain. Such compulsory missions, said to be for personal growth, seemed to Lu Qian more like a way to cull surplus members.

The temple adhered to the most blatant law of the jungle.

The weak existed only to be devoured, just like the cities outside, endlessly sucked dry by the temple.

Soon, the deadline arrived. Fang Su stepped forward and announced, “Silence. Prepare to depart. Do not make a commotion, or face the consequences.”

Amid the gloom and shadows, the Hall Master rose. She opened her right palm, from which blossomed a jet-black lotus. As it unfurled, the surrounding world was rapidly stained dark, as if an ink wash painting had come to life.

Nothing but blackness remained.

A low hum sounded; the world spun, and the scene shifted.

When his senses returned, Lu Qian was already standing on the grounds of Medicine Mountain, in precisely the same spot he had left. All that had transpired in the Netherworld seemed like a dream.

Opening his eyes, he found an old man with white hair standing before him.

Li Du seemed even older than before. The lifespan of a Qi-Refining cultivator was about a hundred and fifty years. Li Du was already past that, likely relying on some longevity technique, but it was clear he could not hold out much longer.

“I’m sorry—I was powerless to help,” Lu Qian said.

Li Du shook his head and replied with a smile, “Man proposes, Heaven disposes. No matter.”

Lu Qian realized he had misjudged the situation that day. The only reason Li Du was allowed to live was the value of something he still possessed. Now that his legacy had been taken, did he not lack all value? This made his position even more precarious.

As Li Du’s disciple, Lu Qian feared he would be caught up in the fallout as well.

Back then, for Li Du—just a Qi-Refining cultivator—to dare speak of settling old scores, he must have had some hidden card.

For a moment, Lu Qian felt himself swept into a whirlpool of danger.

“What will you do from here?” Li Du asked.

“Naturally, I’ll focus on my cultivation,” Lu Qian replied honestly.

He intended to deal with refining the Fish-Dragon, mend his damaged magic artifacts, and practice true water-related spells. If forced to leave, at least he would have a path forward.

But for now, remaining in the temple meant he would inevitably get entangled in further troubles, having made more than a few enemies.

Despite this, Lu Qian had already formed a foolproof plan in his heart.