Journey to the End of the Night
Chapter 102 - 102 102 The Fragrance of Flowers Has Faded The Past Has Gone

102: Chapter 102: The Fragrance of Flowers Has Faded, The Past Has Gone 102: Chapter 102: The Fragrance of Flowers Has Faded, The Past Has Gone Jin Sheng was taken aback by these words.

His right hand had long since lost the right to wield a sword, yet this seemingly redundant question carried implicit concern.

He was somewhat surprised, having assumed that after dispatching Meng Zifei, this little corpse demon would start preparing to dispatch him as well.

He had waited for half a day, never expecting to hear such a statement.

Jin Sheng had always been someone who couldn’t hold back his thoughts and immediately asked bluntly, “You’re not driving me away?”

Baili An slightly raised his eyelids, his brows lifting slightly as he chuckled, “You’re someone who owes me their life several times over.

Wouldn’t I be at a loss if you just walked away without a word?”

A twitch twitched at the corner of Jin Sheng’s mouth.

He had seen others act from a position of obligation, but never had he seen someone so unabashedly leveraging a debt of gratitude toward the Thirteenth Sword of Tianxi.

Just as he was about to say something, Baili An lowered his head nonchalantly and examined the black heart, saying in a light and indifferent tone, “I’ve observed your Spirit Root.

Indeed, with your right hand rendered useless, it is very difficult to achieve anything further in the Sword Dao.

Concerning your situation, I have done some research in the ancient records of the Divine Mansion Realm.

Although it will be difficult, it’s not without a solution.

If you have time, why not stay here for another month?

I should be able to find a resolution.

Well, if you trust me.”

A sudden concentration gathered in Jin Sheng’s brow, where the innate fierceness resided.

Baili An’s calm words seemed to carry a kind of magical, warming power, diluting that fierce energy by a few degrees.

He slowly looked down, eyes resting on his powerless, injured right hand.

Though it had been Baili An who had said, ‘if you trust me’, it was Jin Sheng himself who was truly being trusted.

He, who deeply understood the weight of this trust… unconsciously gripped the sword in his hands tightly.

He thought to himself.

Bai Tuo Mountain already had many powerful protectors, yet this mountain seemed to be in much need of his help…

He had practiced repeatedly throughout the entire night, and the ten blank wooden planks were now filled with scratches under the consumption of Baili An’s spiritual power.

Baili An’s spiritual power was not overwhelmingly strong, but under the mutual reinforcement of the Corpse Pearl and the Yin Yang Tao Fish in his Dantian.

As long as his spiritual power was not exhausted in an instant, it seemed that his power could be replenished within a certain period.

Yet after an entire night had passed, Baili An had been incessantly practicing the first stroke of the rune.

No matter how much he practiced, the length and depth of the first stroke of the rune were only infinitely close to that on the black heart.

Dawn swept away the darkness as Baili An set down the wooden planks and opened the Glazed Umbrella, intending to continue his practice in the shade deeper in the woods.

Through the cobblestone paths in the woods, the remnants of corpses and blood had long been cleaned.

The beings that had fled deep into the forest due to the calamity of just over a dozen days ago were also gradually emerging.

Though few in number, they fortified the vitality of the environment.

The faint morning light sprinkled through the leaves, casting fragmented, splintered halos on the cobblestones and amidst the trees, as if cut by a sharp blade.

Baili An suddenly halted, his gaze fixed on a thicket of brambles and vegetation.

Lin Guiyuan had changed out of his bloodstained golden robe, now in a simple black one with discernible gold threads on the collar.

He stood beneath the dappled morning light, his long, curly eyelashes cast down, half-covering his lifeless, ashen eyes.

And in front of him, carelessly tossed amongst the weeds, lay the corpse of Wen Zhendong.

The lifeless mountain ghost gazed quietly at the lifeless female body.

The mountain beasts and corpse demons had far less interest in corpses than in living beings.

After all, a woman whose soul had decayed from the inside like Wen Zhendong, even the most mindless of demons and creatures, couldn’t muster much desire to feed on her.

So her body remained relatively intact.

Lin Yuan, upon cleaning up the Merfolk’s bodies, had found her.

Thinking it unseemly to leave the body so close to the lake—even though she despised Wen Zhendong—Lin Yuan, true to her nature, couldn’t bring herself to desecrate the corpse.

She tossed it aside, leaving it to deteriorate naturally.

Baili An’s eyes shifted and suddenly noticed that Lin Guiyuan held a bunch of dried, disheveled flowers, the very ones he had once tenderly maintained in front of his treehouse.

They were dried because they had lost their moisture.

They were disheveled because they had been trampled.

Seeing Lin Guiyuan’s condition, could it be he intended to bury his former lover to rest?

Noticing Baili An’s gaze, Lin Guiyuan looked up quietly at him.

His pale face bore no expression.

He placed the bouquet on Wen Zhendong’s chest, giving Baili An a forced smile as his voice rasped, “I’m merely returning her belongings to her.”

Having been tested by life and death, he was no longer the naive, nervous youth when it came to matters of the heart.

He knew… what didn’t belong to him, even if it seemed beautiful, was but a mirage.

There was no need to cling.

No need to covet.

The hand that laid down the bouquet wiped itself lightly on his garment, as if trying to erase the false fragrance and the distasteful past from his palm.

Seeing such a Lin Guiyuan, Baili An smiled knowingly, aware that indeed he hadn’t let his father down; naive yet strong-hearted.

…

…

As morning light waxed, the sky was clear, and the scenery picturesque.

Soft willows swayed in the morning breeze, and the sound of carriage wheels creaking along the rocky mountain path echoed leisurely.

A luxurious Jade Chariot slowly made its way along the not-so-wide road.

The Jade Chariot was opulently and spaciously outfitted.

The wheels appeared to be made of ordinary wood, but upon closer inspection, the wood gleamed with a luster that any discerning person would recognize as incredibly valuable.

Atop the spacious carriage were paintings of Qingluan birds in dance.

Simple strokes crafted a vivid, lifelike portrayal of the Qingluan birds.

More startling, each effortless-looking stroke contained runes that Baili An had been unable to replicate in a whole night of study.

If a cultivator from a prestigious Immortal family beheld this sight, their first thought would undoubtedly be: This is a rich person!

The value of just one of those wheels—no, even a single spoke—was likely several times more than the treasure swords they wore at their sides.

Not to mention the painting of the Qingluan bird—a work surely done by a master of spiritual power.

The contained killing intent of the divine Qingluan bird meant that with but a thought from the one inside the carriage, it could slay a cultivator at the peak of the Open Source Realm in an instant.

Of course, these were all secondary.

What was truly astonishing was that such a Chariot, worth an entire Cultivation City, was not pulled by ordinary horses, but by nine pristine white Unicorns, each emanating a soft white glow.

From afar, they exuded sacredness and luxury beyond approach.

And there was no Coachman to drive them; the nine Unicorns proceeded slowly, as if spiritually attuned to their master’s desired destination.