Chapter Six: Farewell

He did not know how much time had passed before he slowly awoke. Even before opening his eyes, he felt a deep soreness throughout his body, as if he had been beaten. Frowning slightly, he slowly opened his eyes—and was stunned.

At this moment, he found himself lying in a simple bamboo hut, modestly furnished with only a set of bamboo table and chairs and a bamboo couch. On the table sat a teapot carved from bamboo and several delicate bamboo cups. His throat felt as though it was on fire, dry and parched, so he leapt from the couch, poured himself a bowl of cool tea, and drank it down in great gulps.

Light, shuffling footsteps approached. Lin Feng turned his head and beheld a face of delicate beauty smiling softly at him. Lin Feng smiled in return.

“You’re awake,” Caiyi greeted him. For some reason, a faint blush tinged her cheeks.

“Ah, is this Hidden Mist Valley?” Lin Feng was momentarily taken aback, lowering his head in embarrassment, and fumbled for something to say.

Caiyi shot him a playful glare. “You’ve been asleep for three days—sleeping better than a pig! Come, my uncle wants to speak with you.”

“Oh—ah! Oh no, the Purple Buddha Ganoderma…” Remembering that he had failed to complete his mission, Lin Feng’s heart filled with unease, certain he’d face reproach.

He stepped outside. A gentle breeze carried sweet fragrances, and the roar of the waterfall was as ceaseless as ever. He could not help but take a deep breath.

“Uncle!” On a boulder in the distance, the white-robed scholar sat cross-legged, his expression inscrutable. His hands moved in a flurry, conjuring one mysterious incantation after another, each shimmering with dazzling light.

Lin Feng stared wide-eyed at this seemingly otherworldly “Uncle Liang,” his heart in turmoil. Who was this man, truly?

“Xiao Feng.” A gentle voice drew Lin Feng from his thoughts.

The middle-aged scholar rose to his feet, a mysterious smile on his face. “The Purple Buddha Ganoderma has already been procured. There’s no need to worry.”

Lin Feng was startled. How could Uncle Liang have guessed his concerns? If he could retrieve the ganoderma himself, why set such a task for Lin Feng at all?

Uncle Liang smiled, leaping lightly from the boulder and speaking in an unhurried tone: “You’ve been away for some time. I imagine your sect elders are anxious for you. It would be best to return soon.”

Lin Feng paused. Was this a gentle dismissal? A faint sadness welled up in his heart. Who in the sect ever truly cared about the fate of a minor disciple like him?

Though disappointed, he had no wish to linger shamelessly. He nodded slightly. “Yes. Thank you, Unc—Uncle Liang. I’ll be on my way.”

Caiyi, listening nearby, grew vexed. This fool, she thought—so tactless! She stomped her foot and glared at Lin Feng.

“Um… may I trouble you, Miss Caiyi, to guide me out of the valley?” Lin Feng stammered awkwardly.

“Hmph!” Caiyi turned away, ignoring him.

Lin Feng, flustered, looked pleadingly at Uncle Liang.

But Uncle Liang said nothing, instead waving Lin Feng over to sit.

They sat by the great stream, the scent of earth thick in the air. Uncle Liang smiled. “Not long ago, when you and Caiyi were chased by the Moonhowl Sky Wolf and fell into the abyss, it was fortunate you were there—otherwise, Caiyi would have met disaster.”

“It was all luck. I should be thanking Miss Caiyi for saving me many times,” Lin Feng replied, scratching his head in embarrassment before this enigmatic master.

A shadow of softness appeared on Caiyi’s face, but she still turned aside, her feelings obscure.

Uncle Liang chuckled. “Heaven’s will. The Buddha Blossom you encountered in the abyss—one unseen in millennia—merged with your body. Have you noticed anything strange?”

Only then did Lin Feng recall the odd sensations from that time. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused inward.

With a jolt, his eyes flew open in disbelief. Above his shattered dantian, a swirling red light hovered silently, as if it had always belonged there.

“This, it…” Lin Feng gasped, lost for words.

Uncle Liang nodded knowingly. “I see your dantian has been shattered, likely from grave injury. But now this Manjusaka recognizes you as its master. Fortune has reversed itself—an enormous blessing! The mysteries within you must discover on your own. But remember: ‘A man’s wealth is his own undoing.’”

Lin Feng nodded earnestly. Uncle Liang sighed, conjuring an object from thin air, his tone growing somber. “I wished to aid you further, but circumstances are pressing. Take this and keep it safe for me. One day, we’ll meet again. Above all, speak of us to no one.”

The youth accepted the token—a lifelike stone tiger, fierce and proud.

As Lin Feng placed the tiger alongside his green jade slip, Uncle Liang waved his hand. “Caiyi, see Xiao Feng out of the valley. Today, we must also be on our way.”

Caiyi’s heart trembled; she responded faintly, her mind elsewhere.

After bidding Uncle Liang farewell, Lin Feng and Caiyi walked wordlessly from the valley, each lost in thought.

When they emerged from the endless mists, Caiyi turned and smiled, her fair face framed by a few strands of hair glinting in the sun. Lin Feng was transfixed by the sight.

“Hey, what are you staring at?” A faint blush colored Caiyi’s cheeks, and shyness flickered in her eyes as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I—ah—nothing…” Lin Feng’s heart raced, sweat beading on his brow as he stammered and hurriedly lowered his head.

“Heh… you silly thing. Come on, work hard when you return—at least be able to come and go freely, right?” Caiyi grabbed his arm, and together they soared into the sky, leaving the mountains behind in an instant.

At that moment, Lin Feng felt a sudden pang of sorrow. He turned to look back, but the rushing wind blinded him.

Mountains and rivers flashed by in a heartbeat. In his heart, he wished time would slow, but the moment of parting arrived nonetheless.

Beneath the great banyan in Serpent Vine Valley, the two stood in silence.

After a while, Lin Feng summoned his courage and asked awkwardly, “Are you… are you human or demon?”

Caiyi’s expression darkened at once. “Does it matter so much whether I’m human or demon?”

Lin Feng, head bowed, did not see her face and nodded to himself.

Caiyi’s anger flared. “Idiot! So what if I’m a demon? Remember this—I am a demon! Uncle is a demon too—a monster of ten thousand years! Are you afraid now?”

“I—I don’t believe it!” Lin Feng shouted, “Demons do evil, take lives—you, you’re not demons!”

Caiyi sneered, her gaze sharp as a blade. “Taking lives is evil? Do cultivators not kill? Do they not turn on each other?”

“I…” Lin Feng was struck speechless.

“In cruelty and savagery, nothing in this world rivals the cultivators. For fame and fortune, they’ll kill wives, children, teachers, and friends—worse than any beast. ‘Leave no root behind, better to kill wrongly than let one escape’—is that not their creed?”

“I…”

“Their divine weapons and sharp blades have slaughtered countless beings. Are any not forged by their own hands? Can you deny it?”

Faced with Caiyi’s relentless fury, Lin Feng felt as if struck by thunder, his mind reeling.

A voice echoed within him: She’s right, she’s right.

“Go…” Caiyi’s voice was calm but weary as she turned away.

Lin Feng trembled, staring at her pink-clad back, and replied hoarsely, “Very well.”

Suddenly, a wild wind swept up, sand and stones swirling, obscuring everything. When the wind died and the air cleared, there was nothing left but emptiness and the lingering hint of fragrance—a scent fading into memory.

Lin Feng stood lost for a long time, as if waking from a dream. Suddenly, something glimmering beneath the tree caught his eye.

A hairpin! Pure white as jade, topped with a dazzling gem.

He bent down, picked it up, examined it, then tucked it into his breast and walked out of the valley.

After hacking his way through the undergrowth, the sun was already high. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sat on a rock, chewing a hard, cold bun as patches of sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling his face.

“Caiyi, Uncle Liang—were you truly human or demon?” He could not let the question go, pondering it endlessly without finding an answer.

Taking out the hairpin, he gazed at it, recalling Caiyi’s parting words, sinking again into thought.

The line between human and demon, right and wrong, grew ever more tangled in his heart.

“No more thinking. Now, about that demon flower…” Remembering the strange events in the abyss, he shivered involuntarily.

His worries quickly gave way to excitement. Uncle Liang said the Manjusaka had not appeared in ten thousand years and must be a treasure of immense power. Now that it resided within him, he could not help but want to try it out.

Resolved, Lin Feng sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and focused on the red vortex. A fervent, familiar longing welled up within him, and memories flooded back—just like the first time he cultivated his qi ten years ago.

Delighted, he began to circulate his Longevity Art, clearing his mind, drawing in the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, guiding it through his palm’s meridians, through the lesser yang channels, the chest center, and finally to the dantian. He was intimately familiar with this route; for years, each attempt had ended in disappointment. But this time, the gathered energy surged irresistibly into the red vortex above his dantian. Instantly, the vortex spun wildly, devouring and refining the energy.

Sweat beaded on Lin Feng’s brow as a burning heat rose from his abdomen—tense yet expectant.

Boom! The spinning red vortex suddenly exploded, sending countless filaments of red energy through every meridian, flooding into every muscle.

In that instant, he felt his strength double!

He drew a deep breath and punched the tree behind him. The ancient elm shuddered, shedding leaves in a shower. On the bark, a shallow dent appeared!

“I did it!” Lin Feng wept with joy. Though this new “dantian” was peculiar, as long as he could gather and absorb spiritual energy, he counted it a victory.

Years of humiliation and disdain—all vanished with a single punch!

After sitting quietly for a while, he threw himself into cultivation. The “vortex dantian” transformed every wisp of white spiritual energy into red power, continually strengthening his meridians, muscles, and bones—quite different from normal dantian cultivation.

Ordinarily, the dantian absorbs and stores spiritual energy, transforming it into inner force, which can be wielded for defense, offense, or to empower magical weapons. Lin Feng still practiced the Longevity Art, but due to this strange dantian, his results were more substantial and immediate. Physical strength was a crucial measure for any cultivator.

Before he knew it, dusk had fallen; he had sat outside the valley for half a day.

“Time to go back. I wonder if Du Songsong has caught the crest-snake yet.” Lin Feng stood, feeling refreshed and full of strength. He picked up his bundle and strode toward the foot of Heaven’s Gate Peak.

In the twilight, the mountain loomed, its shadow deep and damp, with wisps of smoke curling up in the distance.

He walked alone along the mountain path, his solitary figure tinged with melancholy.

Passing Du Songsong’s door, he saw a sturdy lock on the wooden gate, while the dog’s tail grass at the step clustered together in silent greeting.

“Not much time left. I’ll prepare tonight—tomorrow, I have to catch the white-feathered golden-winged finch.” A glint of resolve shone in Lin Feng’s eyes as he hurried to his little hut, dropped his bundle, and immediately plunged into cultivation.

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