Chapter 118: Leng Xuan

When he first crossed the ocean years ago, it took him several years; yet, the return journey took less than a month, even with intermittent stops for rest along the way.

One day, Fang Junmei’s gaze drifted involuntarily toward the northeast. He knew from maps that in that direction lay an island occupied by a formidable race of demon beasts known as the Zongheng Island. The beasts that ruled it were called Xuanwu Vultures. The "turtle-bird" he had captured years ago to provide him with water was, in fact, a juvenile Xuanwu Vulture. Reflecting on this, Fang Junmei felt a secret sense of relief that he hadn't killed that young vulture back then; otherwise, he might have met his end without ever knowing why. Though he felt a touch of nostalgia for those days, he was certainly not foolish enough to seek out that vulture for a chat.

...

He finally arrived. High in the clouds, he looked down at the familiar landscape. A thousand emotions stirred in his heart. In the time he had spent meditating within the Peach Blossom Immortal Mountain, one hundred and fifty years had passed in the mortal world. Surely, things had changed, and the people he once knew were long gone.

The cities and villages on the land below seemed largely unchanged. However, his sharp eyes could see that the flags flying over a certain city had been replaced. He did not know how many dynasties had risen and fallen in the interim, but in the end, it was always the common folk who suffered. With a soft sigh, he headed straight for Jiyun Mountain.

Still high above, he could see the dense cluster of black roofs from afar—the life's work of the Old Man Who Carries the Sword had been transformed. People moved among the buildings, though he could not make out who they were. Fang Junmei’s eyes flickered.

Finding a secluded spot at the foot of Jiyun Mountain, he descended. After some coaxing, he tucked Lightning into the Demon Sealing Plate and proceeded up the mountain alone. In the era of the Old Man Who Carries the Sword, Jiyun Mountain had developed into a mountain city. The area halfway up the slope was the core of the Jianbei Mountain City, restricted to commoners, while the lower levels served as residential quarters for the populace, resembling a small town. This structure seemed to have persisted.

He hadn't walked far before he found a familiar stone staircase leading upward. Many commoners were traveling along it, most carrying luggage and accompanied by their families. Fang Junmei blended into the crowd and made his way up. Because of his striking appearance, he drew more than a few glances, but otherwise, nothing happened.

Fang Junmei let his spiritual sense spread out, and he quickly gathered the information he sought. The kingdom he was in was no longer the Pan Kingdom, but the Jin Kingdom. This place was no longer Jianbei Mountain City, but the Angry Tiger Mountain City. The name alone told him that the original Jianbei Mountain City had vanished into the river of time; had it not been destroyed, there would have been no reason to change its name. Whether it had been razed by the imperial court or another sect, Fang Junmei felt no indignation. After all, the old Jianbei Mountain City had committed its share of evils, and its destruction was hardly an injustice. But if this Angry Tiger Mountain City was no better, that would be a different matter.

Along the way, Fang Junmei clearly sensed that when the passersby mentioned the power residing in the Angry Tiger Mountain City at the summit, they wore expressions of terror and dared not speak freely. Moreover, there were many eyes watching newcomers from the shadows, and as a stranger, he was under even closer scrutiny.

...

Following the crowd to the town center halfway up the mountain, he wandered for a while until he spotted a tavern named "Immortal’s Drunkenness." The corners of Fang Junmei’s mouth curled slightly as he walked inside.

The proprietor was a middle-aged man in a brocade robe. It was mid-afternoon, still quite a while before dusk, and the tavern was empty of other patrons; even the waiter was dozing off. The middle-aged man, appearing casual, decided to greet Fang Junmei himself.

"Sir, what should I call you, and where are you from?" The proprietor asked with a smile after serving a pot of aged wine. His eyes were sharp; based on Fang Junmei’s past experiences in the martial arts world, this man was undoubtedly one of the scouts planted by the mountain faction to monitor visitors. Seeing a man of such distinguished bearing, he naturally felt the need to probe.

"My surname is Fang. I’m just a wandering physician passing through, looking for a place to rest for the night before continuing my journey," Fang Junmei said casually as he took a gulp of wine.

The proprietor nodded. "The world is not very peaceful these days. I see your clothing is made of fine fabric, and you must be a man of some means. Did you not bring any servants on your travels?" He spoke with a feigned tone of concern, though his words carried a hidden edge.

"I did have a few, but as you say, the world is dangerous. They met with misfortune and died along the way," Fang Junmei said with a deliberate sigh.

"Then you must be quite skilled in martial arts, sir?" the proprietor asked, his reaction swift.

"Just passable. I’ve been lucky enough to keep my life, that’s all," Fang Junmei replied with a laugh, then drank deeply, signaling that he had no intention of continuing the conversation.

The proprietor knew when to stop. After a polite "Drink slowly, sir," he returned to the counter and began tallying accounts, not sparing another glance. He was clearly a veteran of the world. Soon, a few side dishes were brought out, and Fang Junmei ate on his own.

...

This tavern, "Immortal’s Drunkenness," had been one of his favorite haunts in the past. Many local folk had felt a heartfelt respect for him, the approachable "Second Young Master," and the old proprietor from back then, who had followed the Old Man Who Carries the Sword through thick and thin, had been especially fond of him.

Now, everything had changed. Although the tavern retained its original layout, it had clearly been renovated. He saw no trace of the old proprietor in the current owner's face, and he had no idea if they were even related. The owner’s probing manner stirred a sense of revulsion in Fang Junmei; he had no desire to reminisce with him.

While he ate and drank, his spiritual sense drifted toward the summit. Although his spiritual sense wasn't exceptionally strong, the mountain was only six hundred yards high, and since he was already halfway up, the view from his mind was perfectly clear. There were guards everywhere, both open and hidden—the security was extremely tight. The various halls had all been renamed.

His own room from years ago and the room of the Old Man Who Carries the Sword were long gone, replaced by new structures. Shu Chuchu’s small courtyard still stood, though traces of past battles remained, forgotten by time. As his spiritual sense swept through, he heard people talking, but no one mentioned the past.

Fang Junmei’s spiritual sense finally drifted toward the grave of the Old Man Who Carries the Sword. A few moments later, his eyes flashed with sharp intensity. The tombstone was still there!

However, it had been cleaved in two by a blade-like weapon. It lay scattered in the mud, in a state of utter disarray. Through the mud, he could clearly see the characters carved into the stone: *The Grave of My Benevolent Master, the Old Man Who Carries the Sword — Erected in Grief by His Unfilial Disciples Leng Qianqiu, Fang Junmei, and Shu Chuchu.*

Seeing those two lines of text, Fang Junmei was instantly overcome with grief. The resentment and hatred he had felt toward the Jianbei Mountain City dissolved into thin air.

Beyond the sorrow and desolation, a surge of fury rose in his heart. Was it the leader of this Angry Tiger Mountain City who had split the master’s tombstone? Who was he? Where was he? Fang Junmei’s spiritual sense shifted, searching everywhere.

...

There were many experts on the mountain, but none possessed the aura of a faction leader. Finally, he located the man in a dungeon. The dungeon was gloomy and dark; a dim oil lamp cast a weak light into a solitary cell.

One man sat while another was bound, with five or six burly guards standing on either side. The man sitting was in his forties, dressed in hempen clothing. He had a high nose and deep-set eyes, with prominent temples, and his dark, deep eyes shone with a cold, ruthless indifference. Though dressed simply, he radiated an air of absolute authority—the aura of a man who ruled alone. No one would doubt that he was the leader.

The man who was bound was tied to a wooden stake with chains. Though covered in wounds and blood, he still appeared to be a young man in his twenties. His frame was large, but there was little flesh left on his bones—or rather, little healthy flesh. He had been tortured cruelly, with several horrific burn marks from hot irons, and his skin had rotted to the point of being unrecognizable. He kept his head bowed. His features were angular, but it was impossible to tell if he was handsome or ugly due to the torture. His long hair hung down, his breathing was shallow, and he seemed to have little vitality left.

A heavy silence filled the cell.

...

"Tell me, where are the *Jianbei Heavenly Book* and the *Grand Freedom Sword Manual*? Or—recite the incantations for me!" The middle-aged man stared at the bound youth for a moment before speaking, his voice naturally authoritative.

Upon hearing this, Fang Junmei, watching from the shadows, felt his heart skip a beat. The *Jianbei Heavenly Book* and the *Grand Freedom Sword Manual* were the legendary techniques that had made the Old Man Who Carries the Sword famous. After his passing, only the three disciples knew them, and they had been coveted by countless masters of both the righteous and demonic paths. Who was this young man? Why did he seem to know of these two manuals?

The young man kept his head bowed, saying nothing. Perhaps he was already too weak from the torture to speak.

"Have you not suffered enough? As long as you hand over those two manuals, I guarantee you can leave!" the middle-aged man added.

"... Hahahaha..." After a moment, a hoarse, scornful laugh emerged from the young man’s throat.

"I, Leng Xuan... a man of true integrity... how could I sell out the ancestral techniques passed down to me... because of the interrogation of a butcher like you? Especially to someone with the heart of a wolf like you! Whatever other tricks you have, bring them on!"

His voice, initially faint and intermittent, became loud and clear by the end, filled with a roar of defiance and an unyielding spirit. The young man suddenly lifted his head, his gaze fierce!