Immortal of the Ages
Chapter 018 - Return of a Heros Spirit (1)

Chapter 018 - Return of a Hero's Spirit (1)

The atmosphere in the Sword Pavilion was charged with an electric fury. The Third Sword Venerable's eyes were fierce and brimming with rage, a rage that seemed to channel the power of an expansive ocean. This immense force erupted from him, causing the people in the vicinity to stumble backward, their faces a pale shade of terror.

The situation was akin to receiving two fierce slaps to the face, one from the left and another from the right. His son, disgraced. His elder, murdered. The tempest of his anger turned into a turbulent whirlpool, seeking retribution. He whirled around, the vitriol clear in his eyes.

Standing amidst the swirling gusts was a woman dressed in a black gown, her head lowered. Her delicate and elegant fingers were holding a black Sword Soul, which she was cleaning with a black silk scarf, removing the blood that stained its surface. Her posture was resolute, an island of calm in the raging storm, seemingly oblivious to the Third Sword Venerable's furious gaze as she moved past him, her sights set on the gathering crowd at the Sword Pavilion. Her towering and slender figure was accentuated by a long ink-black dress, her hair flowed like a waterfall of darkness, and her ears were adorned with a pair of sword-shaped earrings. A vision of grace and fierceness combined.

Yun Xiao could only afford to glance at her briefly, the intoxicating memories of the previous night flooding back—a dusky evening, an enchanting lady amidst the glow of white lanterns, and the silhouette of a graceful figure under the moonlit tree. Trouble was brewing, that was clear. He felt a wave of darkness engulf his vision. Despite his anticipation of her arrival, seeing her stand before him made his scalp prickle with unease. Every bone in his body seemed to be knotted, a tangled mess of nerves and fear. No position felt comfortable, and his heart raced erratically.

Fortunately, it seemed she hadn't spared him even a fleeting glance from the corner of her eye. Turning her attention to the sign of the grand hall, her voice rang out, icy as the frost that seemed to form in her eyes, "Cai Maomao."

Cai Maomao hastened forward, dropping to one knee in deference, "I am here at your command, Senior Sister Zhao!"

"Clean this beast's blood from the blade."

"...Yes!" Cai Maomao nodded, his face a mask of determination.

But the Third Sword Venerable was having none of it. Ignored and dismissed, his anger festered and bloomed, smoke practically billowing from his eyes. His voice thundered, the words squeezed out between gritted teeth, "My son may have lost fair and square, I can accept that. But you, a mere disciple, have taken the law into your own hands and killed an elder of the Third Sword Peak without any justification, violating the sacred laws of the Azure Spirit Sword Sect!"

His voice echoed with a booming resonance, shaking the tiles on the roofs, causing the stone pillars to tremble and dust to scatter. The members of the Sword Assembly rallied behind him, their eyes icy as they fixed their gaze upon the woman in the black gown.

She furrowed her brows slightly, a hint of irritation seeping through, "Really now, since when is killing a dog considered a crime?"

The Third Sword Venerable's beard quivered wildly, his face a canvas of rage, "You dare to argue back? I will report this to the Sword Venerable Hall, and you shall be dealt with collectively!"

"Fine, bring it on," she replied, her icy eyes flickering with contempt. "Though my father's Sword Soul is fractured, it still possesses the power to kill. So, between you and Ye Tiance, who wants to die first?"

"You!" The Third Sword Venerable choked on his fury, his pointed finger shaking violently as he directed it towards her, his gaze darting beyond her to focus on the grand hall that loomed behind her figure.

Deep within the hall, an ominous shadow loomed, making the Third Sword Venerable break into a sudden sweat on his forehead.

"Good, very good indeed!" the Third Sword Venerable bellowed, his gaze briefly shifting towards his wailing son, his whole being seemed to simmer with suppressed rage. A fiery volcano ready to erupt, yet forced to hold back.

"Zhao Xuanran..." the Third Sword Venerable began, his voice morphing suddenly into a sinister chuckle. "Yes, you have the protection of someone at death's doorstep, but the other disciples of the Sword Pavilion, they are not so fortunate."

"Planning to play dirty, are you?" Grandpa Qin retorted with fiery eyes.

"Play dirty? Does our Third Sword Peak need to resort to such tactics?" The Third Sword Venerable shrugged mockingly, a sardonic smile painting his face. "Just wait, during the Eight Swords Conclave where life and death are not restrained, your Sword Pavilion disciples had a chance of survival in the past years, all thanks to our generous hearts. But now..."

He paused, letting the dark insinuation hang heavy in the air like a thundercloud ready to storm. "Think about it, what will become of the main branch of the Azure Spirit Sword Sect without any disciples? Even if it doesn't disband this year, what about the next?"

The message was clear. A vendetta had been declared. He wanted the disciples of the Sword Pavilion dead. Dead in the most blatant and righteous manner possible. Dead in two days.

"The tide has turned, still clinging desperately to a lost cause, are you? Haha, let's go!" With a wave of his hand, the members of the Eight Sword Assembly obediently followed, leaving with a corpse and a person reduced to a state worse than death. Though their departure was filled with arrogant swagger, it bore a sting of disgrace.

Especially with what happened to Wu Jianyang. Seeing his son with a bloodied mouth and a fate worse than castration, the Third Sword Venerable had a mind to annihilate Yun Xiao right there. As he turned to leave, the voice of the woman in the black skirt echoed from behind him.

"Yun Xiao, come with me." Zhao Xuanran turned, her piercing cold eyes fixing on the young man in white in the corner.

Yun Xiao subtly lowered his gaze, which unintentionally settled somewhere below her waist. Ah. That seemed rather impolite. So, he shifted his gaze slightly upward. Which turned out to be even more inappropriate... "Senior Sister Zhao, where are we going?" he asked, inhaling deeply to steady his racing heart.

"To accept a master," the woman in the black gown replied, walking past him, a familiar fragrance wafting in her wake, carrying notes of last night's wine.

"To accept a master?" At these words, the Third Sword Venerable halted in his tracks, his body whipping around to lock a fierce gaze onto the woman in black, his voice filled with incredulity. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I am accepting a disciple on behalf of my father, what's it to you?" Zhao Xuanran replied, her voice echoing with an assertive ring.

"Your father is the head of the Azure Spirit Sword Sect! The Sect Master's acceptance of a disciple is not to be taken lightly!" he retorted, his voice deep and resonant.

"Hmph." Zhao Xuanran looked towards the depths of the Grand Hall, her eyes trembling slightly as she said, "Father, today Yun Xiao stands here, ready to shoulder the responsibilities of the sword's tip, seeking a path of survival for the Sword Pavilion. If you wish to take him as a disciple, please ring the Grand Bell!"

As her words faded, a streak of azure light burst forth from within the hall, striking a large azure bell positioned at the front of the hall. With a mighty clang, the Grand Bell reverberated throughout the surroundings, piercing the tranquil morning air with an announcement of solemnity.

“You may take your leave now,” Zhao Xuanran said, addressing the Third Sword Venerable with undisguised contempt.

“The Ninth Son of the Sword Pavilion? Haha, would he be the shortest-lived among them then, surviving only two or maybe three days?” The Third Sword Venerable strained a smile, forcing down the anger that surged within him and opted for a mocking tone instead. However, his taunts fell on deaf ears. No one in the Sword Pavilion spared him any attention.

Without another word, Zhao Xuanran turned and stepped into the hall. Behind her, Cai Maomao nudged Yun Xiao, who seemed momentarily lost in thoughts. “What are you standing there for, an invitation? Get moving!” he urged, pushing him gently.

Coming back to his senses, Yun Xiao moved forward, stepping into the hall that held an imposing figure within its confines.

Upon entering, Yun Xiao raised his head, his eyes solemn as they met those of the individual seated before him. The figure was a middle-aged man garbed in azure robes, an embodiment of grace and celestial allure. His slender build and handsome face were accentuated by his bound black hair and eyes that sparkled like the stars. A long beard adorned his chin, granting him an air of a true Immortal, one that had transcended the mortal realm.

Seated serenely on a cushion, the man seemed to be caught in a peculiar state. Yun Xiao could feel a fragile and feeble energy emanating from him, a stark contrast to the formidable presence he once held. His eyes were open, but the pupils were horrifyingly split, betraying a grimace of pain that seemed almost too palpable, a terrible mixture of slumber and agony.

“Is he the Sect Master of the Azure Spirit Sword Sect, the father of Senior Sister Zhao, and also the head of the Sword Pavilion?” Yun Xiao mused, recalling the widespread fame that preceded this person, a true Sword Immortal whose reputation had echoed far and wide even in the Cloud Nation. Yet, how had he come to embody this living death?

“Has his Sword Soul shattered?” Yun Xiao wondered, a terrifying realization for any Sword Cultivator. When the Sword Soul broke, the soul shattered as well, bringing an end to the person's cultivation journey. This seemed to be the tragic fate that had befallen this renowned figure, leaving him in a state of living death.

As Yun Xiao pondered, a soft yet indifferent voice rang beside his ear, breaking his train of thought. “A Sword Cultivator need not kneel to the living. A mere acknowledgment suffices. You may leave now.”

“Understood.” Yun Xiao responded, turning to leave.

But after a mere two steps, he halted, unable to carry himself away without expressing the torrent of emotions that surged within him. Turning back, he addressed the seemingly lifeless figure with a firm vow, “I am Yun Xiao, and in this lifetime, I vow to uphold the honor of the Sword Pavilion.”

The azure-robed man remained silent, his beard fluttering slightly, a silent witness to Yun Xiao’s solemn vow.

The woman in the black gown watched him, her gaze intense and piercing. “Why take such a vow?” she inquired, her voice echoing in the silent hall.

Yun Xiao nodded, his resolve unyielding as he explained, “For sixteen years I wandered in search of the path of immortality, yet found no mentor to guide me. Today... I have finally found my place.” His voice echoed with sincerity and an unmistakable hint of newfound purpose, ringing through the hall with the weight of an unbreakable promise.

Under the shadow of twilight, the woman in the black gown broke her silence and said in a voice that hinted at the frosty evening air, "During the Eight Swords Conclave, our Sword Pavilion will have you included, making eight disciples altogether. Meanwhile, the other seven Sword Peaks will each deploy a hundred and twenty individuals, many of whom have already reached the Divine Sea Realm. You disabled Wu Jianyang and offended Jiang Yue. So, you might replace the journey perilous, even with the title of the Sect Leader's Disciple.”

Unruffled, Yun Xiao responded, “If death is my fate, I hope you will recover my remains, Senior Sister Zhao.”

“No regrets?” she pressed, her voice echoing in the quiet evening air.

“A gentleman’s word is his bond,” Yun Xiao proclaimed, his gaze meeting hers for the first time, a spark of fierce determination lighting up his eyes.

Zhao Xuanran regarded him quietly, her eyes glazed with a frosty sheen that barely concealed the fiery resolve beneath. After a long, silent standoff, she turned and departed, disappearing amidst the forest shadows like a brisk, cold breeze.

Meanwhile, Blue Star poked its head out from Yun Xiao's embrace and curiously queried, “Why didn't you guys pair up again?”

“... Shut up!” An exasperated Yun Xiao retorted, hastily stuffing the little black creature back into his robe.

From outside, Cai Maomao's ecstatic voice could be heard, “Junior Brother Yun is remarkable! A disciple of the Sect Leader, no less!”

Rushing over, Qin Tong interjected, “Cai Maomao, prepare the hotpot for tonight.”

“Deal, come to my place! I guarantee to fill your bellies till they burst!” The atmosphere turned jovial, their laughter echoing through the mountainous landscape.

The night promised to be sleepless, with questions swirling in Yun Xiao's mind like a relentless storm. As darkness draped the sky, the young Sword Cultivators of the Sword Pavilion congregated at Cai Maomao's lonely peak. The scene was alive with flickering candlelight, robust liquor, a sizzling hotpot, and a group of spirited young Cultivators, their youthful faces illuminated by the roaring flames.

Before they began their feast, the young lady Zhou Zi hesitated, “Should I invite Senior Sister Zhao?”

With a nervous glance, Cai Maomao turned to Yun Xiao, “What do you think?” It was clear he feared the senior sister's reprimand.

“I’ll stay out of it,” Yun Xiao casually remarked, stirring a ripple of awkward laughter among the group.

After a thoughtful pause, Qin Tong suggested, “Senior Sister Zhao has always led the team as the Top Sword. Why not invite her to impart some wisdom to Junior Brother Yun?”

Luo Jiang nodded in agreement, “Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll go ask her then.” Standing up, Zhou Zi summoned her sword and zoomed off, disappearing into the forest in a blink.

Not long after, she returned with a pout, “Senior Sister Zhao declined.”

The group exchanged puzzled glances. Given the gravity of the Eight Swords Conclave—a gateway to a battlefield where life and death danced in a delicate balance—it seemed only fitting that she bid them farewell and good luck. Yet, she chose to remain absent, an enigma in the chilly night. Why hadn't she come?

"Ever since the incident three years ago, Senior Sister Zhao has not been fond of lively gatherings..." Qin Tong let out a soft sigh, a gentle wind carrying away the melancholy that threaded her voice.

"No worries!" Cai Maomao boasted, puffing out his chest. "I've also participated in the Eight Swords Conclave twice. I can definitely lead the way for Junior Brother Yun!"

Qin Tong cast him a disparaging glance, retorting, "You surrendered as soon as you stepped onto the dueling platform. What are you going to lead, a flock of chickens?"

Cai Maomao could only respond with a sheepish grin, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. But soon, his jovial nature bubbled back up, "Enough of this banter. Let's drown this bowl of wine, and then taste the exquisite culinary skills of yours truly! In this vast world, nothing beats a hotpot!"

Before coming to the Azure Spirit Sword Sect, Yun Xiao could never have imagined that Cultivators, people who tread on the path of becoming Immortals, indulged in such worldly pleasures as hotpot and coarse wine.

"The path of immortality is quite the bustling marketplace, isn't it?" Yun Xiao mused aloud. Where were the lofty mountains and flowing rivers, the soaring through the skies with a sword underfoot he had envisioned?

This journey to immortality was indeed a journey undertaken by common folk, a journey intertwined with hatred, resentment, and vengeance, but also filled with valor, passion, camaraderie, and the warmest of bonds.

"This journey... it's like the spicy red oil that floats up to the top of the hotpot," Yun Xiao philosophized, his eyes gleaming in the firelight, "It not only scalds the tongue but also the heart."

"To deep connections!" someone shouted, lifting their bowl high.

"To bonds that run deeper than a bottomless bowl of wine!" another echoed.

Eight bowls clinked together, a sound as melodious as bells chiming in harmony. The wine splashed onto the fiery stove, creating a roar of flames that danced vigorously, mirroring the fervor in their young hearts.

Everyone tilted their heads back, letting the burning liquid slide down their throats. The moment was pierced by a sudden scream that ripped through the night.

"Where's my hotpot?" Cai Maomao was at a loss, his eyes widened in disbelief. The hot pot was gone.

".....!" Yun Xiao patted his chest only to realize that the little black creature was also missing.

Eight pairs of chopsticks hung motionless in the air.