My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting
Chapter 279 – Beyond Ultimate Skills Lies the Divine; The Holy Tree Temple’s Defeat Is Overwhelming - Part 1

Chapter 279 – Beyond Ultimate Skills Lies the Divine; The Holy Tree Temple’s Defeat Is Overwhelming - Part 1

Within the Famous Toast, Li Yuan sat with his head slightly bowed, the streaks of white hair around his temples revealing his age. Beside him was a spirited young man, bursting with energy like a small leopard, taking deep gulps of wine between hearty laughs.

Because of Li Yuan’s presence, the place was frequented by all sorts of martial artists. Even more so since the Famous Toast happened to be under the control of the Black Cloaks.

To avoid any potential trouble after the arrival of Li Yuan and Ping'an, members of the Black Cloaks’ own martial ranks occupied nearby tables. Their job was to keep away any strangers who might stumble in, whether begging for weapons or spouting drunken nonsense that could bother Li Yuan.

After all, this was a tavern—a place to drown one’s sorrows in drink. Once a person got tipsy, they might challenge anyone, even the highest authority.

Only the leader of the Black Cloaks, Wang Heran, reported directly to Li Yuan, and his loyalty was ensured through the human-skin manacles. In turn, Wang Heran controlled the vice-leader through some sort of poison. Thanks to this, Li Yuan could operate his secret business of selling top-quality seventh-rank weapons through the Black Cloaks.

None of the rank-and-file members of the Black Cloaks knew Li Yuan was the true mastermind behind the scenes. However, it didn’t take a genius to notice how deferential Wang Heran was towards him. Even then, Li Yuan had cemented his status in the Holy Tree Temple’s city stronghold. He was practically untouchable. No one would be foolish enough to disrespect him these days.

Suddenly, Ping'an, so exhilarated by drink that he could hardly stay seated, leaped up from the long bench, one foot propped on it while he raised his wine jar in a sweeping toast to everyone around him. Then he pressed it to his lips and took several large, satisfying swigs.

Most of the patrons looked on, stunned. But then, the Black Cloaks members followed Ping'an’s lead. They raised their own cups and cheered.

“To Young Master Li!”

“Haha, Master Li sure has a lively son!”

“It’s good to be young and brash!”

Spurred on by the excitement and the knowledge of Li Yuan’s reputation, other scattered patrons also raised their cups, calling out, “Young Master Li, what a bold spirit!”

Buoyed by their response, Ping'an’s passion flared even higher. He lifted another cup, shouting, “This round’s on me! Drink up, everyone!”

The tavern fell silent for half a heartbeat before erupting into thunderous laughter and cheers.

“You’re too generous, Young Master Li!”

“Well, we won’t refuse such kindness. Many thanks!”

“Haha! That’s the spirit! Thank you, Young Master Li!”

Soon, everyone in the Famous Toast was drinking and laughing in a burst of shared revelry. The young man, brimming with ambition, tossed out gold ingots without a second thought and loudly urged the tavern-keeper to bring more wine.

Li Yuan merely observed with amused eyes. He knew very well that most of these patrons were there to shield Ping'an from potential trouble. Of course, they would play along with his son’s antics. Outside of this cozy bubble, in the real world, no one would offer him such ready respect. Yet watching the boy so wholeheartedly immersed in the dream of a grand world still brought a faint smile to his lips.

When the merry gathering finally wound down, a steady stream of martial artists came forward to bid farewell to the young man, speaking their thanks in respectful tones. Ping'an beamed at each of them, stars of anticipation shining in his eyes—this was the jianghu dream he had longed for.

A low voice broke through his daydreams. “Have you had enough fun?”

“Sure have, Dad!” Ping'an replied with an unabashed grin. “See how lively the world can be?”

Li Yuan ignored that remark. He placed an arm around his son’s shoulders and said, “Ping'an, you want to walk the path of the strong and stand at the summit of this world, right?”

“Yes!” Ping'an answered earnestly, voicing his deepest ambition.

“In that case,” Li Yuan continued, “I want you to beat your old man here first. I’ll only use seventh rank power and a seventh rank weapon against you. Sound fair?”

“Really?” Ping'an was momentarily taken aback, then laughed. “But I don’t want to hurt you!”

Li Yuan cast a glance at the numbers he could see above his son’s head—335~370. Blessed with innate shadow blood and a good work ethic, he had to admit his son was a real monster.

Of course, Li Yuan was an even bigger outlier. Back when he’d been at seventh rank, his power hovered around 505~905. Still, Ping'an was the strongest seventh rank he’d encountered so far.

He said calmly, “Son, you know I’m a cautious man, and I’ve always wanted you to be cautious too. But you have your own ideas, so prove yourself to me. Convince me with your sword. Do you understand?”

Ping'an paused a moment. “I do.”

With a light pat on his son’s shoulder, Li Yuan said, “Let’s head to the Jing Clan’s secret chamber. That place is big enough for the two of us to spar.”

“Sure! Whatever you say, Dad,” Ping'an answered, brimming with confidence. Then he added, “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you, just like when I spar with my juniors and seniors. I always have to hold back when sparring with them, too!” He burst out laughing at the thought.

Recalling how Cui Wuji had once joked that he and Ping'an were technically fellow disciples in the same generational rank, Li Yuan couldn’t help but smile as well. “Where’d you pick up all these junior and senior brothers and sisters anyway?”

“They’re all direct disciples of the Holy Tree Temple!” Ping'an boasted, his face alight. “Some are older than me, some younger. But none of them can beat me!”

Li Yuan merely smiled and said nothing.

Back at the Jing estate they were met by Gu Xuejian.

After hearing Li Yuan’s brief explanation, she nodded her consent. She never asked why the pair needed the secret chamber—father and son deserved their privacy.

Besides, as a peak fifth rank powerhouse who had long forged her own path with the sword, she had no need to watch Li Yuan’s martial arts.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Inside the secret chamber, Li Yuan chose an edgeless seventh rank blade and deliberately suppressed his strength to the seventh rank level.

Ping'an picked up an identical weapon, cupped his fists, and called out, “Old man, here I come!”

Li Yuan crooked a finger.

At first the boy only strolled, humming as though he were pacing a courtyard. Then, midway through the tune, his body twisted at an impossible angle. Man and sword fused into a single streak of light, a meteoric serpent riding the wind, fangs bared, radiance blazing.

“Good balance of stillness and motion,” Li Yuan praised, and then lifted his blade to meet the incoming strike.

BOOM! The shockwave from the clash blasted through the chamber, whipping up cyclones that cracked against the stone walls.

Ping'an was hurled away. Landing in a half‑crouch, left hand pressed to the floor, right hand on his sword, he grinned with eyes aflame. “That old blade of yours still has bite.”

Li Yuan beckoned again. “Keep going. Just a warm‑up.”

“Warm‑up?” Ping'an blinked. That counted as a warm‑up?

“Three strokes to limber you up,” Li Yuan said calmly. “That was the first. And don’t worry, I’m only using seventh rank power. Sixth rank blade skills change your temperament; I’m not tapping into that state.”

Ping'an drew a deep breath, then laughed. “I don’t need three strokes. I’m always in top form!”

With a mad cackle he sprang up, sword tip to the floor. Illusory after‑images unfolded around him, layering over one another until sight itself seemed to warp. “I’ve never used this strike on anyone before,” he said, mouth twisting into a devilish smirk. “It’s never easy when a son has to beat their father. Sorry, I gotta do this, but let’s see if this will convince you!”

Li Yuan recognized it at a glance—a fledgling ultimate skill, still half-finished but astonishing for a 14‑year‑old.

“Oh, showing-off, huh?” he chuckled.

“Eat this!” Ping'an cried.

He streaked forward. In the space of a dozen paces his body swayed like a wind‑blown willow; only the motion had been shoved onto fast‑forward, hundreds of times quicker.

“First Sword!”

A dazzling light chopped down from above—and stopped, midair, before dimming. The hurricane sword met an immovable mountain, stalling.

Two fingers of Li Yuan’s left hand pinched the sword; father and son hung there, frozen like statues.

Ping'an did not struggle. In his pupils a brief daze appeared, as though a roaring fire had just been doused with ice water.

Li Yuan flicked his wrist and sent him flying.

After looking through countless martial arts over the past decade and a half, Li Yuan’s insights outstripped anything the boy, no matter how gifted, could shake.

Ping'an landed on one knee and finally fell silent.

“So?” Li Yuan smiled. “Is your dream really that fragile?”

Ping'an’s head snapped up, smile gone. He gripped his sword and charged.

BOOM! He was blasted away.

BANG! He was sent tumbling onto the floor.

Again and again Ping'an flew, then lunged back like a maddened beast, each time more ferocious, more desperate. Yet Li Yuan swatted him aside with effortless ease. After a dozen rounds, the father even yawned, sheathed his blade, and scratched a circle on the floor.

“Tell you what, son. Make me step out of this circle and you win, all right? Wait... Actually, let’s shrink it a bit.”

He drew the line smaller, coaxing as though with a child.

“Arrrgh!” Ping'an roared, eyes blood‑red.