Chapter Ten: Preparing to Depart

Inside the thatched cottage, Zhao Ling had already taken her healing elixir and was now resting on the bed. She gazed through the worn window at the blue-robed Daoist practicing his palm technique outside, her expression a mixture of conflicting emotions.

Though a trace of resentment lingered in her heart, curiosity now far outweighed it. She had thought him a destitute rogue cultivator, yet overnight he had become a true Foundation Establishment adept. It was easy to underestimate the gap between the peak of Qi Refinement and Foundation Establishment, but even among disciples of the Eastern Mountain Sect, fewer than one in a hundred could succeed in breaking through.

To double one’s lifespan was to shed mortality itself. Within the sect, even disciples of average talent could enter the inner circle to cultivate. If one chose not to remain, a post as a steward on any mountain would be easily secured. With a stroke of luck, breaking through to late Foundation Establishment within a century was possible, and with time, there was even hope of becoming an elder of the sect—a future without limits.

Of course, Lin Ze’s breakthrough had at most taught Zhao Ling a lesson: keep your life, and remember to assess your opponent’s cultivation before drawing your sword next time.

What truly fascinated her was how, at their first encounter, he had sensed the aura of a young demon hound. His reaction then had been as though he knew the Golden Core Demon King was about to emerge, and had instantly devised a countermeasure. Piecing together all the clues, there was only one explanation: the middle-aged Daoist knew of the Demon King, and not only that, he understood its movements in detail, even down to its arrival at the Xiao family village.

A rogue cultivator in a remote village, yet acquainted with a Demon King—Zhao Ling felt a chill as she pondered this. Clearly, Su’s master was far from ordinary, no matter how simple he appeared.

At that moment, she noticed something from the Daoist’s movements, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Is that... the Four Seasons Cycle Palm?”

Lin Ze felt the gaze from behind, but paid it little mind. With the deed now in his possession, there was no need to explain his familiarity with the Eastern Mountain Sect’s techniques. Not to mention, this was merely a low-grade Daoist art; even if it were the mid-grade Eastern Mountain Breathing Technique, he would not have bothered to conceal it.

His fair, slender hand moved with spring’s gentle grace—measured and serene—already showing signs of mastery.

Noon arrived.

Su Bailu and Xiao Bao had set a table with simple dishes and helped Zhao Ling to a seat. The two of them waited respectfully by the door.

Lin Ze finished his practice and exhaled slowly. The palm technique itself was not difficult to learn, and with three months’ prior experience, he would master the “Spring Returns to the Earth” form within a few days, once body and mind fully harmonized.

“Let’s eat,” he said, ruffling Xiao Bao’s bald head before entering.

They took their seats.

Zhao Ling shrank back timidly, though she knew the Daoist’s kick had saved her life. The memory of his cold, impassive face still unsettled her, and recalling her earlier disrespect, she kept her head lowered, nerves taut.

Fortunately, Lin Ze bore her no grudge. Zhao Ling, relieved, cautiously ate her rice.

Suddenly, she heard Su Bailu’s surprised voice: “Master, are you returning to the sect with us?”

Lin Ze nodded.

At this, Su Bailu glanced at her little junior brother, who was dutifully serving their master, a hint of envy in her eyes. She and her senior brothers had made the journey to Eastern Mountain alone, but a decade ago, these surrounding mountains had not yet been taken by the Heavenly Demon Sect, nor were they called Demon Mountain. There were only wild beasts to trouble travelers then, and even ordinary hunters dared to venture alone. For a Qi Refinement cultivator, the journey had posed no threat.

But now, their master would personally escort her junior brother to the sect.

She spoke softly, “But Senior Sister Zhao has not yet recovered. We may need to stay in the village a few more days.”

Suddenly the topic turned to her. Zhao Ling quickly waved her hand. “Don’t mind me—everything is up to Senior.”

She dared not trouble this inscrutable Daoist any further, lest she incur his displeasure.

Su Bailu smiled wryly. Her senior sister’s change of attitude was remarkable.

She glanced at her master, who calmly picked up some wild greens with his chopsticks and replied, “It’s no matter.”

He, too, wanted a few more days here—to master the Four Seasons Cycle Palm, and perhaps to see if he could replicate that trace of sword intent. Though the matter with Black Cloud was resolved, Demon Mountain remained dangerous; vigilance was necessary.

Zhao Ling paused, gripping her chopsticks tightly. The last shred of resentment in her heart vanished.

Though her own master was famed as a prodigy within the sect, having reached mid-Foundation Establishment in his forties, his bearing could not compare to this Daoist’s. Recalling her previous mockery, she was overcome with a sense of shame.

She set down her bowl and murmured, “Thank you, Senior.”

Lin Ze glanced at her with mild surprise but said nothing more.

After the meal, he resumed his practice.

Soon, the village chief arrived outside the cottage in a rush, followed by a crowd bearing all kinds of rustic offerings. Upon entering, they knelt and called out, “Thank you, Master Lin, for saving our lives.”

Lin Ze touched his face with some resignation.

Despite his youthful appearance, they still called him “Old Master.” If all went well and he reached the Golden Core stage, this body would be even younger than in his previous life. For a cultivator with a five-hundred-year lifespan, he could maintain the appearance of a man in his twenties for at least three centuries.

Of course, most old monsters would not bother with such things.

But Lin Ze was different—he was only twenty-five. Why should he let himself appear aged?

Glancing at the crowd, he saw Xiao Bao’s parents among them, their offerings the most generous of all.

“Rise,” Lin Ze said with a wave of his hand.

He accepted their gratitude, though it was not for the recent Black Cloud incident, but for the demon beast he had dealt with three months prior.

“Master, I’m just a simple man,” Xiao Daniu said awkwardly, his wife retreating behind him in embarrassment.

“My wife spoke out of turn yesterday and offended you. I’ve already taught her a lesson. Please, be magnanimous and forgive her this once.”

Lin Ze cast him a helpless glance.

Given how timid you looked yesterday, who taught whom a lesson?

Still, as men, some things are best left unspoken—there was no need to be blunt.

“In a few days, I’ll be taking Xiao Bao to the Eastern Mountain Sect. You should spend some time with him while you can.”

At these words, the couple’s joy was mixed with sorrow. Xiao Daniu, face full of complicated emotions, held Xiao Bao’s hand, his rough cheeks twitching. He pressed his lips together, then laughed heartily and patted his son on the head. “You rascal, you’ll amount to more than your father ever did!”

“Take good care of Master Lin. Don’t worry about us.”

Xiao Bao’s mother wiped her eyes, wanting to say more, but a stern look from her husband silenced her.

The usually compliant man now showed the authority of the head of the household. She pouted and fell silent.

The couple gazed long and hard at Xiao Bao before turning to leave.

To seek immortality—one more word would only burden the child.

Lin Ze looked at the boy, who bit his lip, struggling to hold back his tears. With a helpless shake of his head, Lin Ze said, “Go on.”

Seeing Xiao Bao’s hesitation, he sighed and gave him a gentle push outside, scolding with a smile:

“We don’t stand on such ceremony here.”

Even a Daoist master wished to see his four disciples one last time—how much more so would mortal parents? What meaning would there be in pursuing immortality if one had to abandon one’s parents along the way?

Besides, with Xiao Bao’s talent, a few more days would make no difference at all.