Night Run

Lin Langyao looked up, seeing Qiu Yan emerge from the inner room.

Qiu Yan’s gaze met his, assessing him as if seeing him anew.

“So you are that Lin Langyao?”

“Hearing about you is one thing, but seeing you is quite another; you’re not quite what I imagined.”

“What did you imagine me to be?”

“A heinous villain, overflowing with wickedness, committing every conceivable evil?”

Qiu Yan chuckled at his words.

He, too, was a handsome and imposing man, his smile as refreshing as a breeze sweeping over a mountain ridge.

His entire demeanor was upright and remarkably clear, and his starry eyes brimmed with interest.

“Your self-assessment is certainly quite extraordinary.”

“It’s not as if I’m unaware of how they secretly curse me behind my back,” Lin Langyao said, waving a hand dismissively.

There was even a period when he would deliberately sneak into the homes of those who disliked him, eavesdropping on their tirades.

After they had vented their frustrations to their heart’s content, he would suddenly kick through the roof, descending from the heavens to scare them half to death.

Watching those people scatter in terror was far more entertaining than simply beating them up.

“How utterly shameless,” Qi Zifeng couldn’t help but interject.

“Not only do you show no shame or remorse, but you also openly admit it, which is why it’s no wonder…”

Qiu Yan interjected, “Zifeng.”

“Oh, it’s fine, let him speak,” Lin Langyao said, his curiosity piqued.

“No wonder what?”

“No wonder your master was forced to personally intervene and cleanse his disciples,” Qi Zifeng declared, tilting his chin up and speaking with undisguised contempt.

“He must have felt too ashamed to face anyone after teaching a disciple like you.”

“How did you know it was my master…?” Lin Langyao mused, then quickly realized.

The Sect Master of the Wuling Sword Sect had also been present during that confrontation, so he must have informed his son upon returning.

What Lin Langyao didn’t know, however, was that the events at Chaotian Pavilion that day had already spread throughout the cultivation world.

The world had suffered under “Lin Langyao” for too long; the subjugation of this chaotic devil was a cause for immense celebration, something everyone wished to commemorate universally.

News of it had long since gone viral, but Lin Langyao had been preoccupied with rushing to the Northern Lands with Wen Chaoxuan, hence his ignorance.

“It’s truly a pity,” Qiu Yan said after a moment of silence, sighing softly.

“I had originally hoped that I might have the chance to cross swords with you.”

Coincidentally, Lin Langyao had harbored the same thought.

Finding an opponent of equal caliber was a rare feat, especially for sword cultivators, who were inherently combative.

Had they met earlier, they would undoubtedly have drawn their swords to test each other’s might.

If the fight proved exhilarating, they would surely have become sworn confidants.

Perceiving the regret in Qiu Yan’s eyes, Lin Langyao, with a carefree smile, instead offered comfort.

“What does it matter?” he asked.

“Just give me a few decades, and then you’ll see who commands the winds and rains in the cultivation world once more.”

Qi Zifeng, unable to stand his boastful words, scoffed coldly.

“What an audacious claim…”

Lin Langyao suddenly recalled something: this young man was the very person his master was seeking.

However, Wen Chaoxuan had yet to explicitly indicate his intentions, likely pondering how to find a suitable reason for contact.

Lin Langyao understood his master all too well; Wen Chaoxuan was meticulous and thorough in his actions, always deliberating repeatedly to ensure absolute infallibility.

Yet, waiting for him to finish his deliberations could take an eternity, so perhaps it would be better if Lin Langyao lent him a hand.

With this thought, Lin Langyao deftly changed the subject.

“That’s because you haven’t been taught by my master,” he stated.

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘A strict teacher produces exceptional disciples’?'”

Qi Zifeng was about to scoff, but then he remembered Lin Langyao’s notorious past, and his laughter died on his lips.

Lin Langyao simply crossed his legs and sat atop the wall, adopting a posture as if to enlighten the two.

“Do you two even know what the highest realm of a sword cultivator is?”

Qi Zifeng found the question absurdly obvious and answered without hesitation.

“Isn’t it just achieving the Great Dao?”

“Wrong,” Lin Langyao said, shaking his head and looking at him with an expression that implied he was beyond teaching.

“Achieving the Great Dao is the highest realm for cultivators of the Dao, but the highest realm for a sword cultivator is absolute sword pressure, where one sword strike commands ten thousand swords to bow in homage—”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a stunning image simultaneously flashed through Qi Zifeng’s and Qiu Yan’s minds: Wen Chaoxuan drawing his sword before them.

As fellow sword cultivators, they understood better than anyone the terrifying power and realm that represented.

A sword was the lifeblood of a sword cultivator; to command even others’ swords was tantamount to directly incapacitating an opponent during a confrontation.

Qiu Yan’s expression subtly shifted as he heard Lin Langyao continue:

“My master is the only sword cultivator in the world today who has attained the highest realm of the Sword Dao.”

Qiu Yan had a question, which he posed earnestly.

“May I inquire about your esteemed master’s name?”

“Such a powerful sword cultivator, yet I have never heard of them before.”

Uh, this was indeed a question that would naturally pique one’s curiosity.

As a child, Lin Langyao had often asked Wen Chaoxuan why they couldn’t descend the mountain and venture into the mortal world like other cultivators.

Wen Chaoxuan’s answers invariably revolved around the need to isolate themselves from worldly affairs to focus on sword cultivation, usually followed by a scolding for Lin Langyao’s constant desire to play instead of completing his studies.

While sword cultivation was a valid reason, Lin Langyao suspected the greater truth was that Wen Chaoxuan simply didn’t wish to emerge from seclusion and interact with others.

Upon reflection, it wasn’t just that he lacked a Dao companion or a sect; Lin Langyao had never even seen Wen Chaoxuan with any acquaintances or old friends.

It was as if, apart from Lin Langyao, his disciple, there were no indissoluble ties connecting him to the world; whether he came or went, he remained unburdened by attachments.

Lin Langyao’s thoughts momentarily drifted here, and it was a while before he continued.

“My master… he follows the path of solitary cultivation.”

“Moreover, he isn’t entirely without renown; do you know who subdued the Great Owl (TL Note: A mythical bird, often associated with ill omens and misfortune.) of the Eastern Sea back then?”

Qiu Yan exclaimed in surprise, “Could it be…?”

A century ago, a powerful, malevolent owl (TL Note: A mythical bird, often associated with ill omens and misfortune.) emerged on the shores of the Eastern Sea.

Wherever it passed, misfortune followed, tormenting mortal emperors and common folk alike for a long time.

Countless sect cultivators were invited to dissipate its malevolence, but it would always resurrect and return.

Just as despair set in, and it seemed humanity would once again face widespread devastation, an unknown grand master intervened and subdued the owl.

He left no name, and no one clearly saw his appearance.

During his struggle with the owl, the heavens and earth changed color, and the bright day turned dim.

It was only after the clouds dispersed and the world returned to clarity that only scattered owl feathers, burned to ash, remained falling upon the Eastern Sea.

“It wasn’t just the owl,” Lin Langyao said, counting on his fingers.

“The fox demon of Cloud Mountain, the Great Hui (TL Note: A mythical serpent-like creature.) of Bashu, the Scarlet Devil of Changyang… all were eradicated by my master’s hand.”

Although the world knew not his name, Wen Chaoxuan truly achieved the feat of pacifying the four seas with a single sword.

“What a shame,” Qi Zifeng suddenly interjected.

When Lin Langyao looked his way, he exaggeratedly sighed.

“Such an extraordinary sword cultivator, yet he took on a disciple like you.”

Lin Langyao, who could easily discern his petty thoughts, cast a pitying glance at him.

“You don’t need to be so envious,” he said.

“While your aptitude is decent, it’s miles behind mine; after all, innate sword cultivation talent like mine is one in ten thousand, something no sword cultivator could possibly overlook.”

“Otherwise, why would your martial uncle have pursued me so eagerly, wanting to take me as his disciple the moment we met?”

Qi Zifeng was practically fuming with rage, wanting to retort but lacking any confidence.

He truly understood now why the cultivation world called this fellow the Chaotic Devil.

Not only were his actions bizarre and outlandish, but his personality was utterly despicable.

Lin Langyao couldn’t help but gloat as he observed the young man’s frustrated expression.

However, gloating often leads to misfortune.

“But don’t think being my master’s disciple is all glamour,” he continued.

“My childhood wasn’t exactly easy; the hardships I endured were beyond what an ordinary person could bear.”

“Had my mind not been resolute and open, I would have gone astray long ago… So, even a heaven-blessed genius suffers no less on the path of sword cultivation than an ordinary person; you still have a long way to go.”

A familiar voice, cold and crisp, suddenly resounded behind him.

“Is that so?”

Lin Langyao: !!!

Wen Chaoxuan had appeared at some unknown moment.

In an instant, Lin Langyao’s thoughts raced, and he instinctively wished to leap over the wall and flee.

But Wen Chaoxuan was even quicker, effortlessly grabbing him by the back of his collar and lifting him back.

Qiu Yan and the other man watched as the previously arrogant Lin Langyao, now in Wen Chaoxuan’s grasp, lowered his head and eyes, feigning obedience and silence as if his scruff had been seized.

For a moment, they found themselves unable to tear their gaze away.

Wen Chaoxuan nodded at them.

“Forgive me,” he said.

“My rebellious disciple has made a spectacle of himself.”

“No matter…” Qiu Yan replied.

“Fellow Daoist Lin has a lively disposition; he’s quite interesting.”

Whether it was his imagination or not, Qiu Yan felt a hint of detachment in the white-robed sword cultivator’s gaze toward him.

Wen Chaoxuan turned to Qi Zifeng.

“Your root bone is quite good, and you’ve already reached the Golden Core stage at a young age,” he stated.

“However, I perceive a lack in your sword intent; do you perhaps encounter obstacles or bottlenecks on your cultivation path?”

“If you trust me, I can offer you some guidance.”

Qi Zifeng always felt unconsciously nervous when facing Wen Chaoxuan.

He glanced at Qiu Yan, then spoke.

“You… why would you suddenly want to guide me…?”

Wen Chaoxuan calmly replied, “Consider it an apology on behalf of my disciple.”

Qiu Yan pondered for a moment, then said, “Since the senior has spoken, you should go.”

Wen Chaoxuan added, “No rush, I’ll go over there.”

Releasing Lin Langyao, he immediately furrowed his brow and instructed him.

“I’ve left books, paper, and brushes on the table inside the room.”

“If you have nothing to do, start transcribing.”

“You are not permitted to wander outside again without my permission.”

“…”

Lin Langyao’s mood instantly turned bleak and miserable, like a stray dog drenched by a torrential downpour, utterly dejected.

He watched forlornly as Wen Chaoxuan mercilessly turned and walked out of the courtyard.

From beyond the wall, Qiu Yan, witnessing his utterly subdued demeanor, couldn’t help but chuckle again.

“Your master has given you instructions; aren’t you going?” Qiu Yan inquired.

“What’s the hurry?” Lin Langyao said, casting a glance at the adjacent courtyard.

“When it comes to copying books, it’s best to procrastinate for as long as possible.”

Qiu Yan shook his head in exasperation.

Lin Langyao watched as Wen Chaoxuan approached Qi Zifeng, speaking to him with a lowered head, and then asking him to draw his sword for inspection.

One was dignified, the other respectful; their interaction looked far more like that of a true master and disciple than Lin Langyao’s usual chaotic lessons with Wen Chaoxuan.

Lin Langyao couldn’t articulate the complex emotions stirring within him, but for a moment, he was suddenly overcome with a sense of melancholy, as if his master was about to be taken away from him.

Lin Langyao stood in the courtyard for a while.

Only when he saw Wen Chaoxuan and Qi Zifeng begin to move indoors, still conversing, without a single glance back at him, did he finally shift his feet and reluctantly return to his room.

Indeed, paper, brushes, and a copy of the “Tai Xuan Jing” (TL Note: A classic Daoist text, often translated as ‘Canon of Supreme Mystery’ or ‘Great Mystery Classic’.) were laid out on the room’s table.

However, Lin Langyao was certainly not in the mood for transcription.

Kicking off his shoes, he flopped onto the couch, propping his head on his arm as his thoughts began to wander idly.

He increasingly felt that Wen Chaoxuan’s return this time was rushed.

Wen Chaoxuan had said he was destined to face a tribulation, and if he didn’t overcome it, he would never achieve the Great Dao in this life.

Did that mean that once Wen Chaoxuan completed everything, he would ascend to become an immortal?

Becoming an immortal.

This was the ultimate pursuit of every cultivator, yet throughout history, those who truly ascended and became immortals were few and far between.

Lin Langyao didn’t think becoming an immortal was necessarily all that great.

With nothing but vast, thick clouds and white mist above, how could it compare to the bustling, vibrant, and colorful mortal world?

Should he perhaps talk to Wen Chaoxuan and tell him not to become an immortal?

But Wen Chaoxuan would never listen to him; he’d probably scold and lecture Lin Langyao, saying things like he was abandoning the Great Dao due to his attachment to the mortal world.

That’s right!

Wen Chaoxuan had said he would teach him from scratch.

Couldn’t he then deliberately procrastinate his cultivation, pretending not to grasp anything, and just drag it out for a hundred years or so?

At worst, he’d endure a few more beatings, but if he simply couldn’t learn, he couldn’t learn.

What could Wen Chaoxuan do to him then?

The more Lin Langyao pondered, the more feasible his plan seemed.

Sunlight filtered through the wooden window lattice, falling upon his youthful, spirited face.

And so, accompanied by the tranquil warmth of the afternoon sun, he drifted off to sleep, slumbering so deeply that he lost all sense of time, until nightfall.

Midway through, he had a dream: his younger self, after finishing his practice, dragged his Green Cloud Sword across the peak of Qintian Mountain, searching for his master.

The clear voice of the young man echoed into the empty, unresponsive mountain wind.

Lin Langyao turned past the thatched hut where master and disciple resided, and suddenly, in the open clearing, he saw an upright, unmarked tombstone and an earthen mound.

The shock made him break out in a cold sweat, and he abruptly opened his eyes, waking up.

“Master!”

Darkness enveloped him; his afternoon nap had extended into the night.

Wen Chaoxuan was leaning over the bed, looking down at him.

Unexpectedly, Lin Langyao had suddenly woken up, and Wen Chaoxuan instinctively reached out to grasp his struggling wrist, calming him.

Seeing that it was him, Lin Langyao exhaled in relief, slowly recovering from the lingering effects of the nightmare.

“Master…”

As Lin Langyao finished calling out, his entire body stiffened.

He had just remembered that he had been secretly napping until now, without copying a single character of the “Tai Xuan Jing” (TL Note: A classic Daoist text, often translated as ‘Canon of Supreme Mystery’ or ‘Great Mystery Classic’.).

Wen Chaoxuan still hadn’t decided how to punish him.

Just as guilt began to surface in his mind, Wen Chaoxuan, to his surprise, furrowed his brows and said with a grave expression, “Get up quickly! The Sect Master of the Heavenly Craft Pavilion is dead!”

What?!

Lin Langyao was utterly startled, abruptly sitting upright.