Chapter Twenty-Three: Everyone Shares Their Thoughts About Old Jiang

Wu Yue took a large gulp of tea and immediately felt a pang of regret—it was simply too careless; how could one drink tea, that refined art, so crudely? Guilty, deeply guilty, yet he took another big mouthful... This tea was truly delicious, with a taste that felt so familiar.

One must know, this world has no "Wind," "Elegance," or "Ode," yet, whether by coincidence or some other means, there was an exceptional tea called Wind Elegance Ode. A single sip brought a sense of ease and freshness throughout the body. Beautiful, truly beautiful...

Wu Yue drained his cup at once. He glanced at Forty-Nine, who stood before him: dark-skinned, thin, standing perfectly straight.

"Forty-Nine, your military posture is all wrong."

Forty-Nine remained perfectly still.

"In fact, you can hear me, can’t you?"

Forty-Nine nodded, opened his mouth several times before finally producing a sound, "I can hear the voice of Departure Mountain; Departure Mountain speaks on your behalf..." Though the sentence was brief, it took him a long time to say it.

Wu Yue wasn’t surprised. After all, this was a high martial world—or rather, a world of fantasy. A little deaf boy hearing strange voices, was that really so astonishing?

"What sort of person is Jiang Ruhai?" Wu Yue asked, a rather dull question.

"He’s a bad man. I don’t like him," Forty-Nine replied crisply and decisively.

Wu Yue was a bit surprised. So all the novels really are lies. Couldn’t we start with some formulaic responses? I ask you what he’s like, and you just say he’s a bad man.

How should I reply to this? Should I cooperate with you?

"Alright, stand down. You type too slowly—no, you speak too slowly." Wu Yue waved him away. Forty-Nine turned and left.

Watching the room return to emptiness, Wu Yue habitually frowned and began to ponder once more.

Has Jiang Ruhai’s true intentions become common knowledge? Then what does he really want? Wu Yue couldn’t understand. The feeling was unsettling, as if a rabbit were in your house—a place bristling with cameras and laser cannons. Yet this rabbit, oddly nonchalant, looked at you with a mocking expression, and what’s more, the rabbit had come of its own accord. Facing an opponent who insists on acting when action seems impossible is a real drain on the brain.

One cup was now missing from Wu Yue’s table, and the pot of Wind Elegance Ode naturally held one less serving. Staring at Chen Shujian, who had suddenly appeared across from him, Wu Yue felt a deep sense of helplessness. His spiritual sense was already spread wide, scanning like a super radar, yet this person could simply materialize in front of him, only discovered by his gaze.

"What realm are you, really?" Wu Yue sighed.

"Fate Severance. No hope for Life Profound now," Chen Shujian answered concisely.

"And what about Brother Jiang? What realm is he?" Wu Yue pressed on with this question, so out of place.

"Life Profound, or higher."

Above Spirit Conjunction is Transcendence, above Transcendence are the Fate Severance and Life Profound realms. It seemed a mere difference of three stages, but in reality, the gap was immeasurable. More crucial was that second half: or higher! To think his enemy might be so formidable—what a headache. Wu Yue suddenly felt a waning interest. So, in the eyes of others, he was merely an ant—or perhaps a slightly larger one? Was relying on Departure Mountain truly safe? Should he buy another insurance policy?

But thinking back, except for that day’s complex gaze, Jiang Ruhai had never seemed the sort with nefarious intentions. He always appeared approachable, amiable, and kind. He had brought Wu Yue all the way to Departure Mountain; after Wu Yue’s accidental transformation, he didn’t ask much, instead elevating Wu Yue’s seniority astonishingly... Yet no matter how reasonable it seemed, Wu Yue couldn’t shake a sense that Jiang Ruhai wasn’t a good person—a bizarre, terrifying, and utterly irrational intuition.

A gentle silence slowly arose. The two drank tea, wisps of fragrant steam swirling about, invigorating and clear, cool to the touch no matter how hot the water. Such was the nature of excellent tea leaves.

"Tell me, what do you want from me?" Wu Yue asked directly. He’d learned by now—this was not an era for verbal sparring.

"Master Jiang has just planted two rows of cabbages," Chen Shujian, after a long deliberation, spoke slowly.

Must it be like this? Such a slap in the face. Wu Yue had just thought this was not an era for verbal fencing... Can’t we just speak plainly?

Wu Yue’s reply was a bit fierce: "But I don’t like cabbage... Of all vegetables, I prefer spicy and sour shredded potatoes. That taste, that tang..." The flavor of home—one knows it only by eating it.

Wu Yue deliberately wore an expression of bliss; Chen Shujian’s face darkened.

Chen Shujian took a rare, agitated breath and said, "As long as you stay peacefully at Departure Mountain, within three hundred years, Life Profound is within reach."

Wu Yue smiled faintly. "Why are you helping me?" It was not a question, but a statement.

Chen Shujian paused, then continued, "Departure Mountain raised me for four hundred years. Such gratitude can only be repaid in death."

Wu Yue understood. Departure Mountain was, of course, the mountain beneath their feet, not the thousand-year-old sect. As for the entanglements and gratitude tied to Departure Mountain, Wu Yue neither wanted nor needed to get involved. He only wished to return to Earth, to gain true freedom. And right now, most of all, he wanted to return to the Primordial Realm, to "see" it again.

Departure Mountain, mastering it, was just a foundation stone for grand ambitions—merely the aspiration of its elders, which happened to coincide with Wu Yue’s own path. If possible, Wu Yue didn’t mind helping fulfill their wishes, but if it proved too arduous, he wouldn’t force himself. This wasn’t about duty; it was simply that being moved wasn’t enough to make Wu Yue devote himself entirely.

"Attend the Jade Bowl Banquet—whatever the outcome, it will do you more harm than good," Chen Shujian went on.

But whether out of restlessness or what have you, three hundred years was simply too long for Wu Yue. No one could guess what he’d say next; his brows furrowed, then suddenly relaxed as he broke into a wide smile: "Old Chen, not to criticize you, but the world is so vast—why not go out and see it? I’ve heard it said: three hundred years is too long, seize the day instead."

Old Chen, Chen Shujian, was momentarily stunned, half laughing, half crying.

"In truth, you’re all rather complicated: on the one hand, you trust Master Jiang, on the other, you seem to doubt him," Wu Yue spoke frankly, piercing the illusion.

Chen Shujian replied, "Follow the good and take it as your own."

It was a beautiful answer, though Wu Yue felt it was little more than empty words.

Still, Wu Yue nodded. Suit yourselves.

Departure Mountain’s revival depended on Wu Yue, yet no one knew how it might be accomplished. The affairs of the world are full of immeasurable variables. Until the end, no one can predict the outcome.

As for Wu Yue, he wished to see the world. He wanted to go home, to be free, to return to the Primordial Realm... Becoming stronger was merely a means to an end.