Chapter 85: with translation of title

The red-clad youth had been gone for a long time, yet the ridge of the hall remained unusually quiet; everyone was still savoring the unprecedented battle that had just taken place.

I thought I had already overestimated the red-clad madman as much as possible, but I never expected to still underestimate him.

Facing one after another of those hidden peerless masters, he appeared remarkably at ease from start to finish.

He even took his already unparalleled swordsmanship and pushed it to a shocking, world‑astonishing level, effortlessly unleashing eight forms of 'Heaven‑Soaring Immortal' with every gesture.

A single move had already earned the White Cloud City Lord the reputation of an unrivaled swordsman; one can imagine how transcendent those eight forms are.

Yet he never displayed immortal power in human form to shock anyone; instead, it felt as if this madman had truly cultivated martial arts to immortality, soaring through the heavens, constantly shattering one's understanding of martial arts.

"Although I had mentally prepared myself, seeing this scene I still couldn't help but say:"

Lu Xiaofeng looked at Hua Manlou with a complex expression:

"Your younger brother isn't practicing martial arts at all; he's clearly cultivating immortality!"

"I only hope he doesn't end up cultivating a heartless, unfeeling nature that disregards kin." Hua Manlou gave a bitter laugh.

Xue Bing's pretty face broke into a smile:

"I don't think so; on the contrary, I feel he's quite humane—Ximen Chuixue isn't dead, and he showed mercy to that girl, proving he isn't some reckless, lawless lunatic."

"Don't hold a bias against him just because he saved your life." Lu Xiaofeng shook his head.

Xue Bing retorted:

"And don't hold a bias against him just because he chopped off one of your fingers."

Lu Xiaofeng was instantly speechless, not knowing what to say.

After the night of the full moon, not only did Wood Daoist and Ye Gucheng stare dumbfounded, feeling as if they hadn't slept, but before long the martial world had become utterly unfamiliar.

Yet none of that compared to the shock the red-clad madman brought—it was as if the entire martial world had been shaken three times over.

No one knows how many martial artists' views on martial arts were shattered; seeing someone train martial arts to such an unfathomable degree, virtually identical to sorcery, left them with nothing but reverence.

This admiration and respect come from the heart, unrelated to good or evil, indifferent to his temperament; they stem simply from fellow martial artists' yearning for the lofty peaks.

To look down on him would be to look down on oneself even more.

Moreover, the red-clad madman is listed by the martial world as the person most not to provoke, for if he ever decides to kill your whole family, he will surely succeed.

The three thousand lives lost in Yangcheng alone show how decisive his slaughter is; likewise, Huo Xiu, Huo Tianqing and others, as well as the deeply hidden Wood Daoist and his followers, all serve as warnings.

Jiangnan, a small pavilion in the Peach Courtyard.

The red-clad youth lounged lazily under a peach tree, yet saw Niuroutang summoning the Peach Courtyard servants to bring the prepared dishes to the hexagonal pavilion.

"Young Master Hua, the food is ready; please come eat."

"You've been cooking for over a month—aren't you tired?" The red-clad youth rose leisurely.

"I love cooking; how could I feel tired?" Niuroutang said with a beaming face.

She suddenly thought of something and asked:

"The leader of the Western Demon Sect is the most mysterious and terrifying person in the martial world; rumors say his origins are mysterious, his martial arts mysterious, and the sect he single‑handedly built has become dominant beyond the passes and has begun to infiltrate the interior."

"At the height of its power, you say the Western Demon Sect's leader, Yu Luocha, really died suddenly?"

Zhuang Buran sat down to eat, casually asking back: "If you're interested, why not go with Lu Xiaofeng and the others to have a look?"

"Just killing time for fun—I don't have the leisure to travel thousands of miles to monitor the life or death of someone insignificant."

Niuroutang ladled a bowl of beef soup for the red-clad youth, her face full of anticipation:

"Try it; I've simmered this soup for a long time, crafting it to your taste as my ultimate masterpiece."

"You should leave." The red-clad youth took a sip with his spoon and said:

"The favor of sparing your life—you've already repaid it these past days."

Niuroutang's eyes widened, her lovely face flashing an inexplicable hue:

"I suppose I should go, but I have a question I want to ask you."

"Speak."

"That day, why did you show mercy to my men?"

Niuroutang looked bewildered:

"The red-clad madman, who fears no taboo, would never hold back for no reason; the only one still alive, Ximen Chuixue, is merely someone you wanted to see how his swordsmanship would look after reaching perfection."

"You've spent over a month with him; why haven't you figured out his nature yet?"

Gongsun Lan entered the Peach Courtyard, walked straight into the hexagonal pavilion and sat down, smiling:

"Whether he kills or not depends entirely on his mood—just like when I'm in a bad mood, I like to sell sugar‑roasted chestnuts on the night of the full moon."

"Your nose is pretty sharp; you always show up at mealtime." Niuroutang raised her eyebrows slightly.

Gongsun Lan spoke slowly and deliberately:

"My maidservants lack your culinary skills, so all they can do is shamelessly mooch a meal."

"Could it be that with age, the thickness of one's face only increases?" Niuroutang feigned concern.

"You'd better stop running around east and west, or else the wrinkles on your face will only grow faster."

Gongsun Lan's smile grew wider:

"Probably a mistress skilled in the culinary arts is more prone to becoming a yellow‑faced old woman."

"Old woman, what are you saying?"

"Did the little girl hit a sore spot?"

"Hehe." A light chuckle from outside instantly drew the two women's attention.

"Carry on, pretend I'm not here." The red-clad youth said calmly.

"If you find the noise insufficiently satisfying, you can also have a good fight—after all, idle is idle."

The two women were instantly speechless, feeling that this was entirely in character for him.

After the meal.

Gongsun Lan watched Niuroutang's departing back, then looked at the red‑clothed youth lying back down under the peach tree, and couldn't help but say:

"Zhuang Buran, do you not have a heart?"

As soon as he spoke, Niuroutang's figure halted.

"What do you think people live for, exactly?" the red‑clothed youth muttered to himself:

"A life is like an ox that never rests; to rest is to sleep with the mountains. To me, life has no meaning; so‑called meaning is merely others' definition of oneself while one lives."

"In this world, I only wish to come and go with my enthusiasm spent; that is all."

He paused, then spoke slowly:

"Considering our acquaintance, I'll add one more thing: may you learn to treat yourselves kindly, pity yourselves, and forgive yourselves."

With those words, the red‑clothed youth beneath the peach tree vanished from the recliner; a shower of peach blossoms fell, and the clear sound within the courtyard echoed endlessly:

"Seeing off the guest."

The Peach Courtyard servant had no choice but to approach, looking at the two women with a helpless expression.

Half a year later, at the Peach Courtyard's small building.

"Little Eight, you wouldn't really want to lie like this for the rest of your life, would you?" Hua Manlou walked into the courtyard and found the red‑clothed youth still sleeping under the peach tree.

"Do you know that since ancient times, the weak's loneliness does not elicit pity, but the strong's loneliness is called seeking defeat?"

Accompanying Hua Manlou to the Peach Courtyard, Shi Xuexue's expression was inscrutable; it seemed she sensed someone becoming ever more awe‑inspiring and moving, right before her eyes yet giving an ethereal, otherworldly feeling, as if they might vanish at any moment.

"Your steps are light, your face bears spring, and your footsteps reveal an inner joy." Zhuang Buran's lips curled up:

"Are you preparing to get married?"

"Uh, you couldn't really have attained divine martial prowess, could you?" Hua Manlou stared, then continued with a smile:

"I came just to tell you I'm preparing to marry Xuexue; the date has been set, in half a month."

"Just a trivial little trick."

The red‑clothed youth said lazily:

"Everyone's footsteps vary in speed and lightness, changing with their mood, yet the underlying rhythm remains constant; thus one can both identify the approaching person and sense their emotional fluctuations."

He suddenly turned to face Shi Xuexue:

"I crippled your master, yet you still wish to bind yourself to Hua Qitong; that rather matches my impression of your sect."

Shi Xuexue, somewhat helpless, opened her mouth:

"You're just a merciless mouth; after my master stepped down as sect leader, his temperament is no longer as arrogant and fierce as before. Seeing you kill Huo Xiu and others afterward, it should be clear you actually saved his life."

"Otherwise, given his old nature, with others scheming against him, he would surely have met disaster."

Zhuang Buran chuckled, then said:

"All right, you may go back now; I need to think what gift to prepare."

(End of chapter)