My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting
Chapter 241 – Burying Oneself in the Mountain, Awaiting the Harvest, Truth About the Emperor - Part 1

Chapter 241 – Burying Oneself in the Mountain, Awaiting the Harvest, Truth About the Emperor - Part 1

“Who would’ve thought Master Zhu would team up with the Black Lotus Cult.”

“It’s true. But don’t worry, Master Li—neither the Cui Clan nor Holy Tree Temple will hold you responsible for anything Master Zhu has done.”

In the courtyard, Li Yuan was talking to a member of the Cui Clan who had come bearing news. He listened with mixed feelings but had little to say in response.

He respected his father-in-law’s sense of loyalty. Even though the man carried a blood debt on his shoulders, he still honored his promise by training the next generation of the Cui Clan’s blacksmiths before defecting. Looking back, it now seemed clear he’d been waiting for a son-in-law capable of inheriting his skills—someone who could protect his daughter if he ever abandoned Holy Tree Temple.

Though many years had passed, his father-in-law had never once forgotten his grudge. When the time was right, he broke ties at once and joined forces with the elusive Black Lotus Cult. In hindsight, those months of anger before his departure likely sprang from his urgency to collaborate with the Black Lotus Cult, only to be delayed by Li Yuan’s repeated requests. And whoever had come on the sect’s behalf must have cooled their heels outside for months while waiting.

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A few weeks later.

Another Cui Clan member rushed in, calling out, “Master Li, something big has happened!”

Li Yuan, who happened to be home, recognized Cui Zhichang—Cui Huayin’s cousin—and greeted him politely. “What’s going on?”

Cui Zhichang, still panting, exclaimed, “Zhu Ban has secretly developed a new type of spirit artifact! He never gave it to anyone in Holy Tree Temple, but he forged it for one of the Black Lotus Cult’s top fighters instead!”

“A new spirit artifact?” Li Yuan was intrigued. Could this be a skill his father-in-law had never shown him?

Cui Zhichang pressed on anxiously, “Yes, a brand-new design! Normally, a spirit artifact just flies around to attack. But this new one can spread out to form a domain. The Black Lotus Cult fighter’s name is Peng Mi, and he’s an expert in poisons. With that weapon, he unleashed a poison field that instantly killed Guo Fanghai, the clan head of the Guo Clan.

“Guo Fanghai fired his flying sword, which was brimming with vital energy, and it did manage to carve out a small path through the poison. But it still couldn’t escape being swallowed up, dissolving everything. Meanwhile, the Guo Clan’s patriarch, Guo Guangdan, was supporting him from the sidelines. Before he realized what was happening, Peng Mi closed in and unleashed the domain again. He couldn’t even fight back before his flesh and bones melted away, leaving only black sludge.”

Li Yuan sighed inwardly. His father-in-law certainly knew how to make an impact. He himself had forged that flying sword for Guo Fanghai and thought it had turned out well. That strand of source blood serving as its core meant it could repair itself indefinitely, making the weapon nearly indestructible, and it also enhanced its wielder’s regenerative abilities.

But none of that mattered against a domain-based weapon. Li Yuan guessed that Master Zhu’s creation took partial inspiration from Heavensense, though it was surely not the complete skill—if it were, Peng Mi would be powerful enough to crush Guo Fanghai and Guo Guangdan single-handedly. Even so, a domain weapon demanded a peak fifth rank master. Without the domain, Peng Mi could still defeat them, but killing both in one stroke would be more difficult. With the domain unleashed, however, he left them no chance to escape.

It was a neat fit for his father-in-law’s vendetta as well. The old man despised anyone associated with the Jing Clan, and since the Guo Clan had thrown in with them, he presumably had Peng Mi wipe them out to make his point.

Noticing Cui Zhichang watching him carefully, Li Yuan let out a long sigh, then looked off into the distance as though filled with regret. “I can’t believe Father-in-law never taught me this domain skill. A domain weapon...how on earth did he manage that?”

With that, he started muttering to himself about obscure smithing terms, as if lost in a world of his own. Uncertain and uneasy, Cui Zhichang stood by, not daring to interrupt. Only after a long pause did he take his leave, hurrying off to report everything he’d witnessed to the clan head.

Cui Heng listened and nodded thoughtfully. “It seems Master Li truly is devoted to the forge.”

Off to the side, the Cui Clan patriarch, Cui Wuji, remarked, “Such a dedicated weaponsmith is exactly what we need.” Then he departed to make his own report to the Holy Tree Temple. Li Yuan’s stance was important, after all. He was Zhu Ban’s son-in-law, regardless of what had happened.

From Li Yuan’s perspective, though, it was all just background noise in his father-in-law’s quest for vengeance. He was much more focused on his own cultivation. Once he’d finished his routine forging tasks, he resumed his travels under his alias as the White-Robed Blade King, roaming from place to place, saving lives wherever he could. He felt the end of his chivalrous path lay just one final step away. He had, after all, rescued so many people by now.

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Time slipped by day after day.

A month later, Li Yuan was still one step away from fully grasping the path of the hero.

After two months, he remained just as far, maybe closer by a hair—or maybe not at all. He couldn’t tell, but he kept pressing on.

By half a year, spring turned to autumn, and in the blink of an eye, winter was upon them once more.

On the western front, Holy Tree Temple and the Black Lotus Cult were locked in a bitter struggle that had flared on and off for a year. Although the city stronghold of Holy Tree Temple had only a limited number of core disciples, the lesser powers under its banner were legion—vastly outnumbering the Black Lotus Cult. In a straight-up clash, the Black Lotus Cult would be routed.

But the cult thrived on bizarre tactics, aided by the elusive undying husks. Meanwhile, the real secondary battlefield lay between rival weaponsmiths—chiefly Zhu Ban versus Master Gong.

The Black Lotus Cult had another weaponsmith, but that individual was supporting a different region. A rogue weaponsmith was said to dwell somewhere in Silkfloss Province, but nobody could find him. In this world, spirit artifacts weren’t something you could just seize and use. Each was bound by blood. If you managed to steal someone’s weapon, it still belonged to them by right of source blood. That fact gave weaponsmiths immense prestige.

It also left Li Yuan baffled by the actions of the temple master of the Holy Tree Temple. He’d heard scraps of rumor from his own people suggesting that Master Gong and Zhu Ban had long been at odds—and that when Zhu Ban had officially been recognized, Master Gong was already quite famous. Perhaps the temple master’s strange choices had something to do with that rivalry.

But that still didn’t quite explain things. Li Yuan sensed something deeper was wrong.

Meanwhile, the extended war was turning into a boon for him. He was making a fortune off this chaos. Through shadowy channels, his high quality seventh rank weapons had soared to outrageous prices. In a world at war, seventh rank martial artists who could no longer advance pinned their hopes on superior arms.

Because of these under-the-table deals, the Windfall Group was rolling in wealth. The Ginger Tavern had merged with the Windfall Group on paper—publicly, it was just a tavern, while secretly operating under the group’s control. Yet in an even deeper layer of secrecy, the president, Ying Mei’er, still reported to the Ginger Tavern’s proprietress, Xue Ning.

Ying Mei’er’s assassin group, Shadow Garden, also grew rapidly. Though it lacked a sixth rank expert, its seventh rank assassins now seemed innumerable.

All that aside, Li Yuan remained stuck just short of achieving the path of the hero. He was so close, yet he couldn’t fully grasp that final truth.

He’d saved countless people—tens of thousands, directly or indirectly. Although the Windfall Group was making shady profits, at his command, they also used a portion of their gains for good works...such as setting up porridge stations to feed the hungry, providing shelter and blankets in winter. By establishing new inns and taverns in troubled areas, they hired local staff, stimulating growth and helping families survive.

Under his alias as the White-Robed Blade King—and from the shadows dismantling the Beggars Sect from within—he’d put a lid on much of the crime plaguing Silkfloss Province. Evil acts dwindled.

Yet that last step along the path of the hero eluded him. He couldn’t glean the true essence. It felt like hundreds of rivers converging on the ocean’s mouth but getting stuck there, never quite merging into the open sea.