Chapter 62: Fishing for Fish, Catching an Old Lover—Turn Back, and a Hundred Years Have Passed

Yu Lou, seated on the flying chariot, gazed down at the land; the Gu Shen Sect had advanced to within three hundred li of Miaofeng Mountain, and he asked uneasily.

“Ancestor, the Gu Shen Sect has reached this far—why won’t Hong Deng Zhao intervene?”

When Gu Shen Sect disciples invaded Hong Deng Zhao’s territory and gnawed at Miaofeng Mountain’s sphere of influence, Hong Deng Zhao ought to have stepped in to block them.

It was like a territorial war in a Hong Kong film: Gu Shen Sect was essentially a new branch under the Great Serpent Sect’s domain, and now that they’d come right to their doorstep, Hong Deng Zhao should have stood up for Miaofeng Mountain.

“The situation is complicated. Miaofeng Mountain already has three Purple Palace cultivators—among Hong Deng Zhao’s vassal sects, it ranks among the top two in number of Purple Palace cultivators.

Their former Sect Master, Li Haiping, now seeks to ascend to Purple Palace, and within Hong Deng Zhao, numerous factions are secretly sabotaging him.

Otherwise, how could Miaofeng Mountain be in such dire straits?”

Yu Lou instantly understood: it was the classic dilemma of fearing both the hardship of being a vassal and the threat of a vassal growing too powerful.

Hong Deng Zhao, Hong Deng Zhao—this so-called Ten Sects was utterly black.

“If everyone’s secretly sabotaging them, why are we Wang Clan daring to aid Miaofeng Mountain?”

Yu An had truly grown up—he now understood the true undercurrents of cultivation-world politics, and he’d hit the crux of the matter.

“Precisely. We can’t help lightly, so the Clan Chief sent me to show a little strength, so we can later negotiate a higher price with Miaofeng Mountain.”

In ordinary power struggles between factions, only Foundation Establishment and below may intervene; Wang Xianzhou’s strength rivals Foundation Establishment, yet his cultivation base remains only Qi Refining.

Miaofeng Mountain’s resources are mostly spent sustaining Li Haiping’s attempt to open a Purple Palace; their Qi Refining disciples, knowing their sect’s Foundation Establishment opportunities will shrink drastically over the coming decades, have been defecting en masse.

Now, veteran Qi Refining powerhouses like Wang Xianzhou are precisely what Miaofeng Mountain needs most.

Wang Rong could take on twenty Tang Nianqiu at once, even after his magic weapon’s edge was worn down, he wouldn’t even breathe hard.

Wang Xianzhou could obliterate a fellow Qi Refining peak cultivator like Gao Jian with a single finger; dispatching twenty might just make him pause to catch his breath.

Thinking of this, Yu Lou gradually realized the Wang Clan wasn’t as precarious as he’d imagined.

The Clan Chief dared to offer so many tributes to Mang Xiang because he had real backing.

At that moment, Wang Xianzhou exclaimed.

“Bold indeed!”

He immediately abandoned the Mirror-Silver Lignum flying chariot, kicked off the ground, and soared into the air.

Yu Lou and Yu An, still seated on the chariot, plummeted with it—but they weren’t alarmed; their Ancestor was present, and the Hundred Li Soaring Talisman was with them—nothing to fear.

Yu Lou looked upward, swiftly scanning for the direction of the attack, but found nothing.

Yu An, face taut, gripped his brother’s robe and activated a Spirit Crane Lightness Talisman—this would ensure they wouldn’t die from the fall.

Above, Wang Xianzhou had already activated his technique; the former Immortal Alliance envoy held a long spear, mounted atop a peak Minor Demon beast red sparrow.

“Wang Xianzhou, you really deserve to die—I’ve followed you for nearly two hundred years, and now you’re making me fight Foundation Establishment? And not just one, but two? You really deserve to die!”

The red sparrow cursed as it flew swiftly; Wang Xianzhou, crouched low on its back, ignored the beast. He held his breath, then hurled the spear with all his might toward the empty air ahead.

Instantly, a black flying sword materialized and clashed with the spear.

“Boom!”

The spear exploded; the mid-grade spirit weapon flying sword was damaged and rendered useless in combat.

Qi Refining defeating Foundation Establishment—you think this is a joke?

Even a top-grade spirit weapon, Wang Xianzhou could still hold his own!

As Yu Lou and Yu An neared the ground, they stared dumbfounded at the white flying sword hovering midair, trembling—frozen in shock.

So this was Foundation Establishment.

So this was their Ancestor’s power.

While the two saw nothing, Wang Xianzhou had already spotted the enemy and sensed their attack.

He reacted instantly, with no concern for Yu Lou and Yu An’s safety.

First, there were no Qi Refining cultivators from Gu Shen Sect within ten li.

Second, the two attackers were both Foundation Establishment—if they still wanted to live, they wouldn’t dare touch Yu Lou or Yu An.

The Immortal Alliance decreed: any Foundation Establishment who acts recklessly must pay with their life!

Even attacking a Qi Refining cultivator carries the same penalty!

All under heaven’s grass are the property of Purple Palace elders and Golden Core True Persons—Foundation Establishment have no right to touch them!

Not even a single hair!

The white spirit weapon hovering before them was the clearest proof—Yu Lou felt once more the Immortal Alliance’s terror.

Yes, terror.

Under the Immortal Alliance’s pressure, how were Foundation Establishment different from pigs and dogs?

No difference—Qi Refining cultivators were merely more passive within their cage; Foundation Establishment had slightly more choice, but not much.

For instance, right now: two Foundation Establishment were secretly watching, yet Wang Xianzhou, mounted on the red sparrow, was already counting his victory.

“Ha, two ‘seniors,’ I’m just traveling peacefully—why are you attacking a lowly Qi Refining cultivator like me?

Have you forgotten Article Thirteen of the Immortal Alliance’s Code of Conduct? Shall I remind you?”

“I used to be an Immortal Alliance envoy—I know the code by heart.”

“Article Thirteen of the Immortal Alliance’s Code of Conduct...”

Just as Wang Xianzhou, smugly reciting his successful extortion chant, a soft, elegant, yet utterly astonished female voice spoke.

“Xianzhou Brother—is that you?”

As if time had paused, Yu Lou noticed his Ancestor’s expression froze, then widened in shock, finally settling into an eerie stillness.

For the first time, Yu Lou saw silence in a human’s face—he realized one of these two Foundation Establishment must be someone Wang Xianzhou knew.

The white flying sword darted like a fish back into the hand of the blue aura’s owner; behind her trailed a black aura.

As the two Foundation Establishment drew closer, Yu Lou saw their faces clearly.

She was a peerless beauty in blue robes, appearing no more than twenty, staring blankly at the aged Wang Xianzhou, speechless.

The black aura’s owner was a soft-featured, beardless man—he seemed her husband; his face was grim as he stared at the flying sword in his hand, then at Wang Xianzhou.

Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist.

But to Yu Lou’s astonishment, the blue-robed beauty instinctively stepped half a pace back, avoiding his touch.

Huh?

Fishing for fish and catching an old lover—Ancestor, isn’t this a bit awkward?

Yu Lou dared not look; elders’ affairs were for elders—descendants must have sense.

He casually pressed down on Yu An’s head; both lowered their eyes and began counting ants on the ground.

One, two—wait, why only two?

Oh—turns out we’re the ants.

Still, their ears were sharply perked up; gossiping meant knowing when to eat—but never too openly.

“Wang Xianzhou, isn’t that Xiao Qian? You two used to...”

The red sparrow had a mischievous nature; seeing the two Foundation Establishment silent and Wang Xianzhou silent too, it cleverly chose to break the silence.

Old friends reunited—Xianzhou, Red Sparrow here is helping you, absolutely not retaliating for your habit of dragging me into life-or-death fights.

Wang Xianzhou casually cast a spell, sealing the red sparrow’s mouth, preventing it from uttering the rest of its nonsense.

“You’re Wang Xianzhou?”

The husband ignored his wife’s instinctive half-step retreat—he spoke in surprise.

He noticed Wang Xianzhou’s aged skin, his white hair, and... his Qi Refining cultivation base.

“Hmm. Pay me twenty thousand spirit stones, and I’ll pretend nothing happened.

Otherwise, you know the consequences—Foundation Establishment violating Article Thirteen carries a minimum penalty: twenty years of service on the Western Sea demon-hunting front.”

Wang Xianzhou kept his head down, not looking at the two Foundation Establishment ‘seniors.’ He gathered the spear’s fragments as he stated his price.

He clearly valued the broken spear.

Indeed, this top-grade magic spear was forged from eighth-grade black steel, its tip refined with seventh-grade spirit material—mother-of-pearl pearls.

Originally fine material, further refined by secret methods, allowing it, as a top-grade magic weapon, to shatter a mid-grade spirit weapon flying sword.

The husband had a full name: he came from the Gu Shen family, a Purple Palace vassal clan of the Great Serpent Sect—Gu Shen Qingyuan.

“Twenty thousand? Wang Xianzhou, you’re practically dead—aren’t you afraid your greed will bring disaster upon the Wang Clan?”

Gu Shen Qingyuan hissed a threat.

He’d studied this old lover of his wife’s: Wang Xianzhou was at least 160 years old, with at most fifty years left to live.

Given his past injury that blocked his ascent to Foundation Establishment, whether he could even extend his life beyond three centuries was uncertain—he might not even reach 180.

Wang Xianzhou abandoned gathering the spear’s fragments, raised his head, and stared straight at Gu Shen Qingyuan.

Fishing for fish and catching an old lover—now, looking back, a hundred years had passed. He dared not look at Ning Qianqian, still youthful and beautiful beside Gu Shen Qingyuan.

As if releasing all his pent-up bitterness, Wang Xianzhou threatened:

“Gu Shen Qingyuan—do you want to die?”

A Qi Refining cultivator with a damaged Dao foundation stood before two Foundation Establishment and asked if they wanted to die.

Yu Lou silently cheered his Ancestor on, yet felt uneasy.

He thought his Ancestor shouldn’t act rashly—but also felt that holding back now was inappropriate, at least for now.

An old man’s youthful fury—Wang Xianzhou had devoted his life to the clan—should he, in old age, be bullied by peers who’d achieved Foundation Establishment?

No—he shouldn’t! Not at all!

Seeing Wang Xianzhou’s icy, murderous gaze, Gu Shen Qingyuan instinctively shrank his pupils, his hairs bristling.

“Xianzhou Daoist, here are your spirit stones. Apologies—we disturbed your journey.”

Ning Qianqian spoke, breaking the stare between them; she tossed a storage bag and turned away without looking back.

The aura of departure was even faster than when he had arrived.

Gu Shen Qingyuan glared at Wang Xianzhou with a dark, hostile stare; Wang Xianzhou glared back and pulled out a long halberd.

Gu Shen Qingyuan, if you dare strike, I dare kill!

Remembering Wang Xianzhou’s former reputation, Gu Shen Qingyuan dared not continue glaring; he let out a cold snort and chased after his wife.

The mission to demonstrate strength at Miaofeng Mountain succeeded; the extortion succeeded as well.

Wang Xianzhou not only completed the clan chief’s task but also made a substantial profit.

Yet on the way back, the atmosphere inside the flying carriage was unusually oppressive; Yulou and Yuan dared not speak.

Wang Xianzhou drove the carriage while continuing to piece together the halberd shattered in the battle.

Yet, for some reason, no matter how he tried, he could not put it back together properly.

It seemed he could not find the correct positions of the fragments, or perhaps one fragment was missing.

Suddenly, Wang Xianzhou awoke as from a dream.

He stopped his hands and retrieved all the halberd fragments into his storage pouch.

If it won’t come together, then let it not.

Even if he mended the halberd, how could he mend his own life, so shattered and scarred?