Being beaten

Lin Langyao forcefully pushed the other person away, pointing at his nose as he declared,

“Your master just died, and your entire sect is dead!”

The Daoist friend’s nose twisted in fury, and he flung his sleeve, storming off.

Lin Langyao scoffed, muttering, “Lunatic.”

He then turned to walk towards the cave dwelling he once shared with his master, only to find a desolate, nameless tomb standing alone on the peak of Qintian Peak, buffeted by the biting mountain winds.

Lin Langyao searched every nook and cranny inside and outside the cave dwelling, but his master was nowhere to be found.

He activated a sound transmission spell, yet still received no response from his master.

Unwilling to give up, Lin Langyao then used his sword to fly around, causing a chaotic stir on several nearby mountain peaks.

Daoist friends jumped up and down, exclaiming, “Your master is dead!

Sword Venerable Wen achieved nirvana in front of everyone, and we all helped seal his grave.

We know you’re sad, but for cultivators, life and death are natural.

No matter how grieved you are, you must accept reality!”

Lin Langyao still found it hard to believe what others were saying.

He returned to Qintian Peak, sitting by the solitary grave, gazing at the bare, unmarked stone tablet.

He asked with suspicion, “Truly dead?”

Lin Langyao was born stubborn; to put it bluntly, he was a bit single-minded.

Moreover, his master, Wen Chaoxuan, had instilled a profound sense of awe in him.

Lin Langyao was terrified that if he began celebrating his master’s death with unrestrained joy, finally free from all restrictions, Wen Chaoxuan would suddenly ‘return from the dead’ and whip him scrambling across the ground with his awe-inspiring Heaven-Bearing Sword.

Lin Langyao sat by the nameless tomb for an entire day and night.

Then, he made an utterly rebellious decision.

He drew his sword, dug open the fresh earth on the grave, opened the coffin lid, and pulled out a corpse.

The corpse’s skin was ashen gray, its eyes tightly shut, with finely arched brows, a straight nose, and thin lips—an uncommonly handsome visage, unmistakably resembling Lin Langyao’s master, Wen Chaoxuan.

Lin Langyao meticulously examined the body, checking its pulse, probing for its primordial soul.

He sat by the corpse, which looked exactly like his master, for several more days.

As the body began to show signs of decay, and he squashed one insect after another drawn by the putrid scent, Lin Langyao finally realized and truly believed one thing: his master, Sword Venerable Wen Chaoxuan—who could flatten the four seas with a single sword, powerful and omnipotent—had truly died so inexplicably.

****

So, who was this person now?

It was the same face: finely arched brows, a straight nose, and thin lips, handsome beyond compare.

There was no one else in the world, apart from Wen Chaoxuan, who could wield the Heaven-Bearing Sword with its inherent imposing aura and chase Lin Langyao into such a frantic, disheveled state.

“What is this pavilion?” Wen Chaoxuan asked, casting a cold glance at him.

Lin Langyao, once the illustrious Demon King of Chaos in the cultivation world, now sat on the ground, hair disheveled, outer robes torn and haphazardly draped over him, breathless and utterly lacking in composure.

Opposite him sat Wen Chaoxuan, calm and composed, enjoying Lin Langyao’s private stash of fine tea, occupying the seat of the Pavilion Master of the Heaven-Facing Pavilion, which was exclusively Lin Langyao’s.

The first thing Wen Chaoxuan did upon his return was to chase his sole disciple around Qintian Peak with his sword, whipping him several times under everyone’s watchful eyes.

No matter how much Lin Langyao pleaded for mercy, it was futile.

After their chase, Lin Langyao was a picture of disarray, appearing almost deranged, yet Wen Chaoxuan’s hair remained barely ruffled.

Even dressed in commoner’s cloth robes, seated in a high position, he maintained the dignified bearing of an immortal.

Inside the grand, opulent pavilion, a deathly silence now reigned.

The cultivation world’s powerful figures had already fled in a panic when Wen Chaoxuan, like a beacon of justice, descended to discipline Lin Langyao.

Now, only the master and disciple remained, seated opposite each other in the pavilion.

Upon hearing his master’s question, Lin Langyao immediately scratched his neck, a tell-tale sign of guilt.

The land where the Heaven-Facing Pavilion stood had, a century prior—before Wen Chaoxuan’s ‘demise’—been the cave dwelling shared by the master and disciple.

Wen Chaoxuan’s path of cultivation followed the principles of pure-heartedness, freedom from desires, and alignment with the natural order of non-action.

He did not engage with the mundane world, join sects, or befriend fellow cultivators.

Consequently, his life was quite austere.

Since Lin Langyao could remember, he had followed his master in cultivation, growing up in the dilapidated thatched hut Wen Chaoxuan had casually built.

In winter, it leaked wind; in summer, it leaked rain.

It was truly heartbreaking that a half-grown child, barely able to walk steadily, learned to patch holes in the house with thatch.

Thus, a deep-seated wish had been ingrained in Lin Langyao’s heart since childhood: to build a grand, sturdy, and imposing house, as lavish as possible, once he achieved success.

However, he dared not utter these words to Wen Chaoxuan.

“Speak,” Wen Chaoxuan said, raising an eyebrow.

Lin Langyao instinctively cowered, quickly replying, “This… this is what I built myself!”

Wen Chaoxuan’s expression remained serene.

“When did you build it?”

Lin Langyao cautiously glanced at his master’s face, stammering, “It was… it was after you ‘left’.”

Wen Chaoxuan pressed on, “What about the original thatched hut?”

Lin Langyao honestly confessed, “I tore it down…”

Wen Chaoxuan raised his hand and whipped his sword at Lin Langyao again, a vein throbbing on his forehead in anger.

“—You disgrace!”

Lin Langyao cried out, “Ouch!” and quickly rolled away.

Fortunately, he was thick-skinned enough, and having grown up being whipped by Wen Chaoxuan’s sword for so many years, he had long become accustomed to it.

He patted himself down and got back up.

“Is this how you treat the foundation of our sect when it’s passed into your hands!” Wen Chaoxuan couldn’t contain his fury.

“I thought you would have matured somewhat over these past hundred years, but you’re still so incorrigible!”

It was no wonder Wen Chaoxuan was so vexed and angry.

Any master, upon learning that their disciple had swiftly dismantled their old residence shortly after their death, would be furious enough to resurrect.

What’s more, Wen Chaoxuan had genuinely returned to life.

Lin Langyao felt a touch of indignation, muttering softly, “…But this foundation was just a broken thatched hut.”

Wen Chaoxuan said coldly, “If you have something to say, speak it loudly.”

Lin Langyao instantly cowered again, shaking his head like a quail.

“Nothing, nothing…”

Wen Chaoxuan narrowed his eyes.

“I told you to speak.”

Seeing Lin Langyao remain silent, Wen Chaoxuan strode over and lifted him from the ground.

In a sudden burst of desperation, Lin Langyao, finding courage from who knew where, shouted, “But, but you were dead!—”

Wen Chaoxuan’s movements froze, and the air suddenly became deathly still.

‘It’s over,’ Lin Langyao thought with a sense of despair.

Wen Chaoxuan remained silent for a moment, then suddenly furrowed his brow.

He said, “What do you mean by that?

Are you blaming me?”

Blaming Wen Chaoxuan?

Lin Langyao certainly didn’t have the guts for that.

He was just… well, there truly was a subtle undercurrent of dissatisfaction hidden deep within his heart.

Lin Langyao had been raised by Wen Chaoxuan since childhood, living with his master on Qintian Peak since he could remember.

He didn’t know his mundane origins, only hearing Wen Chaoxuan say that he had been picked up from a pigsty.

His personality was mischievous, with a natural propensity for causing trouble from a young age.

It was only Wen Chaoxuan’s constant suppression that prevented him from stirring up major incidents.

However, this was enough to make him unpopular; the disciples of nearby cultivators disliked associating with him, leaving him with few friends.

When Wen Chaoxuan died, Lin Langyao was left utterly alone in the world, living solitarily on the mountain, bored all day, staring blankly at his master’s lonely grave.

Though cultivators were supposed to endure solitude, and time was the most inconsequential thing to them, Lin Langyao’s Dao heart had not yet reached that level.

Few could truly achieve transcendence from worldly concerns.

One day, after more than a decade of guarding the lonely grave, Lin Langyao, while patching the thatched roof, suddenly thought: ‘Why don’t I find something to do?’

Thus, he began to tear down the old hut and erect a new pavilion.

He began challenging and provoking various immortal sects one by one.

He began grandly organizing immortal conferences for the cultivation world, finding various ways to wreak havoc upon it.

This continued until Wen Chaoxuan suddenly returned.

Lin Langyao felt his collar loosen as he was set down on the ground.

“The incident back then was sudden,” Wen Chaoxuan said, his hands behind his back, after a moment of contemplation.

“The window to enter the Heavenly Vein Reincarnation was fleeting, and I had to achieve nirvana immediately.

Therefore, I did not send you a message.

I originally thought that after experiencing worldly travels, you would have matured greatly, even in my absence…”

“Wait a moment,” Lin Langyao boldly interrupted him, his face filled with bewilderment.

“What is Heavenly Vein Reincarnation?

What does ‘achieve nirvana immediately’ mean?”

For the past hundred years, Lin Langyao had always been puzzled by Wen Chaoxuan’s ‘cause of death.’

Cultivators, if not afflicted by major illnesses or calamities, could live for four or five hundred years without issue.

Wen Chaoxuan was only a little over two hundred years old at the time, still in his prime.

His cultivation path had always been stable, and he had no inner demons.

Although Lin Langyao feared and respected this master, he knew deep down that Wen Chaoxuan had reached the pinnacle of the sword Dao; it would be difficult for anyone under heaven to be called his equal.

Wen Chaoxuan absolutely could not have been ambushed by others.

So, how could such a powerful cultivator, at the peak of his strength, have suddenly and without warning, passed away?

Wen Chaoxuan glanced at him, then lightly revealed the truth.

“Back then, I dispersed my cultivation and died by soul extraction.”

Lin Langyao was momentarily stunned by this unexpected answer.

A century ago, on Qintian Peak, the very ground they stood upon, Wen Chaoxuan had calculated the heavenly secrets and perceived an abnormal spiritual energy fluctuation during the Heavenly Vein’s operation.

He knew that a Heavenly Vein rift, a phenomenon occurring only once every hundred years, was opening.

Without time for further thought, he immediately set up a Soul-Severing Grand Formation on the spot, dispersed his Tribulation Transcension stage cultivation, and used his sword to draw down profound lightning from the clouds to infuse the formation.

Cultivators in the vicinity of Qintian Peak that day only saw the sky and earth change color in the blink of an eye, and the Qintian Peak, shrouded in dark clouds, suddenly burst into brilliant light.

When everyone arrived, they found that the revered Sword Venerable Wen had already achieved nirvana on the spot, but they did not know that his soul, upon the formation’s completion, had been extracted from his body and absorbed into the Heavenly Vein to enter reincarnation.

Wen Chaoxuan said, “You want to know why I died?

There’s something I never told you, but there’s no harm in telling you now—I was born with a life tribulation.

Without resolving this tribulation, I am destined to never achieve the Grand Dao in this life.

The method to resolve my tribulation is connected to a specific person.

I have been searching for this person for a hundred years.

Each lifetime offers limited opportunities.

If I miss the limited opportunities in this life, I must enter reincarnation and start searching anew.

In my previous life, I exhausted all opportunities yet still failed to find that person.

Therefore, out of helplessness, I could only choose to enter reincarnation by leveraging the power of the Heavenly Vein.”

There are two ways for souls to reincarnate in the world: one is for the soul to return to the Earth Vein, and the other is for the soul to return to the Heavenly Vein.

The Earth Vein cleanses impurities, causing one to completely forget past lives, so after reincarnation, there is no longer any connection to the previous life.

The Heavenly Vein purifies the spiritual marrow; after reincarnation, appearance and innate talent remain unchanged, and past cultivation is sealed within the body, with memories gradually resurfacing as one cultivates back to their former strength.

Most lives in the world, such as humans, birds, beasts, flowers, and insects, regardless of their status, enter the Earth Vein for reincarnation after death.

Only a select few immortals, demigods, and innate spiritual beasts are qualified to enter the Heavenly Vein after their demise.

The majesty of the Heavenly Dao is such that even for immensely powerful cultivators, entering the Heavenly Vein is an unattainable luxury, a distant dream.

Only with cultivation nearing that of a demigod, coupled with a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity, is it possible to attempt entry into the Heavenly Vein.

Just like Wen Chaoxuan.

Lin Langyao had accompanied Wen Chaoxuan for decades, yet only today did he learn for the first time about this life tribulation his master carried.

Even entering the Heavenly Vein, something almost impossible for others, he had accomplished.

This implied that, in fact, Wen Chaoxuan had been alive throughout the past hundred years.

Perhaps he had no memories when he first reincarnated, but as he cultivated, they gradually resurfaced, yet he still didn’t return to Qintian Peak to find him.

Well, Lin Langyao could actually understand.

Wen Chaoxuan had always been extremely dissatisfied with this disciple of his, finding fault with him everywhere: not diligent in cultivation, too lazy in his actions, too flamboyant in personality, constantly causing trouble.

From childhood to adulthood, Lin Langyao was most often scolded for being mischievous and good-for-nothing.

Even a cultivator with as firm a Dao heart as Wen Chaoxuan would be provoked to anger by him at every turn.

It was truly benevolent of him to have endured so many years without expelling this wayward disciple from the sect.

Lin Langyao’s heart was filled with an unspeakable mix of emotions, yet he feigned composure as he asked, “Master, have you found that person?”

Wen Chaoxuan’s expression was inscrutable.

Upon hearing the question, he suddenly smiled.

He rarely smiled in his daily life; when he did, all his usual sternness vanished, and he shone like the bright sun and moon, dazzling and impossible to look at directly, yet inexplicably, a shiver ran down Lin Langyao’s spine.

“You’ll have to ask yourself that,” Wen Chaoxuan said.

Lin Langyao didn’t understand his meaning, instinctively sensing danger, and subconsciously looked for an escape route.

He chuckled nervously, “…Why do you say that?”

As if he hadn’t noticed Lin Langyao’s small movements, Wen Chaoxuan stood tall with his hands behind his back and said, “I only entered the human world after my seclusion ended, originally eager to find the person tied to my tribulation.

During my search, however, I heard many rumors, and only then did I learn that, during the decades of my seclusion, a ‘Demon King of Chaos’ had actually emerged in the cultivation world.

How rare!

Even rarer is that the name of this ‘Demon King of Chaos’ sounded somewhat familiar to me—Disciple, I ask you, do you have any clue about this matter?”

Upon hearing this, Lin Langyao knew that disaster was imminent.

He made an immediate decision, turned, and fled frantically.

But while he was fast, Wen Chaoxuan was faster.

In front of Wen Chaoxuan, Lin Langyao had no chance of successfully resisting.

Lin Langyao only felt a heavy impact on his back, struck by a powerful gust of wind that sent him flying uncontrollably.

“Pfft—” Lin Langyao was slammed flat against the wall in a wide-spread posture, spitting out a mouthful of old blood from his throat.

A strong hand lifted him.

“Why aren’t you running anymore?” Wen Chaoxuan said, a cold sneer in his voice, right beside his ear.

Lin Langyao weakly raised a hand and waved it dismissively.