My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 286 – Departure - Part 2

Yao Jue helped Li Yuan to his feet, her eyes wet.

Cui Huayin approached.

“My lady,” Yao Jue whispered.

“Just call me Huayin,” Cui Huayin said lightly. “We’re still sisters; nothing changes.”

She laid a slender hand on Li Yuan’s white hair, a trace of sorrow in her eyes; then she smiled with practiced grace. “Congratulations, Husband.”

Jing Shuixiang arrived, and Ping'an—still howling like a privileged child in mourning—trailed behind.

“We should go home,” Li Yuan said weakly.

Yet relief and happiness lit his features. “It’s a celebration. Let’s fry up a few more dishes.

“Ping'an, share a drink with your old man. You foolish boy, you give me no end of worry.”

“O-okay, Dad,” the crybaby prodigy sniffled.

“Enough tears. Think about how you’ll break my next move. You thought training was over? Your ultimate sword still isn’t finished, is it?”

“Soon...almost there.” Ping'an wiped his tears away; a steely resolve shone in his eyes.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

The practice chamber.

Harsh coughing filled the cramped room, but the hand that gripped the blade was rock‑steady, the stance straight as a lone cliff no one could climb.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Li Yuan slammed his own long blade against the floor, his white mane of hair shaking like that of a lion.

Across from him, Ping'an lay sprawled, beaten yet again.

“It’s not that I’m weak, Dad. You’re just...too strong,” Ping'an replied, exhausted. Even a prodigy like him had to admit it. His father was using nothing but seventh rank power, yet felt as unreachable as a peak in the clouds.

“Hah! Will you tell an enemy that?” Li Yuan roared. “Your foes won’t be so kind.”

He stepped forward, murderous intent pouring off him in waves. The blade in his hand vibrated at a terrifying pitch, bending the very light. In the shaft of sunlight from the skylight, he looked like a figure cut from shadow.

A shrill metallic scream, like some demonic blade spirit, ripped at the nerves of everyone who could hear.

This was the divine stroke of a seventh rank blade, a peak beyond peaks that stood above all others, unbreakable.

The slash came, ghostly and razor‑keen, aimed straight at Ping'an’s legs.

Ping'an felt it in his heart. The stroke truly meant to sever his legs. No bluff. But... to lose his legs here, to lose his future, he refused to allow it. Not even to his father!

Something in Ping'an snapped. The shadow blood surged through his veins, racing along a path that felt somehow innate, predestined. Every artificial shackle that had been laid on that power shattered with an audible crack!

Li Yuan’s eyes narrowed; his swing slowed by half a beat. Half a beat, yet still within the realm of perfection.

Whoosh! The blade fell—and missed.

Ping'an had vanished. He stood to one side, sword in hand, as though a revelation had just dawned.

“An ultimate move?” he murmured, then grinned savagely. “What use are moves? No form is the best form.”

The moment he spoke, every acquired chain on his body snapped. He’d realized some truth. He’d been too focused on letting the skills drive his shadow blood. Why not allow his innate shadow blood to flow freely and drive his skills.

The youth swayed like a willow in a gale... And a second Ping'an slid out of him. Another sway, and there were three.

The three bowing silhouettes faced the white‑haired patriarch. “Father, please instruct me.”

Shadow clone? He can split? Li Yuan blinked. What principle was this? Shadow blood truly held limitless wonder. His son’s embrace of no‑form surpasses form also allowed himself as a father to finally relax.

Now, time to finish the last task. Li Yuan threw back his head and laughed. “That’s more like it. Come!”

In the skylit chamber, four black shadows surged toward each other like converging torrents.

The demon‑scream of steel and the cascade of after‑images wove a tableau to stop the heart.

KLANG! At last, one crisp note rang out. A long blade spun through the air, flashing like a silver plate before clattering to the floor.

It was Li Yuan’s blade. He...had lost. Of course, the loss was deliberate.

A true martial artist must carry no inner demon. So Li Yuan had built himself into an invincible nightmare for his son, then let the boy shatter that nightmare with his own hands. He had led the child out of the greenhouse; the road ahead was now Ping'an’s own to walk.

Smiling, Li Yuan looked at the youth before him. “You’ve grown up.”

Ping'an rushed to steady him. “I’ll always be your son, Dad.”

“Tell me,” Li Yuan asked, “those after‑images, how did you manage it?”

Scratching his head, Ping'an said, “I don’t really know. I just forgot every trick I’d learned, folded it all back into what comes naturally, and...there it was.”

Li Yuan pondered. “So, that was your First Sword?”

Ping'an grinned. “Nah. That was an ancestral secret move, the Even More Bullshit Slash.”

Father and son burst out laughing.

A moment later, Ping'an said, “Dad, from now on you can stay home and enjoy life. Your son will look after you.”

Li Yuan beamed. “Done. It’s a promise.”

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Days slipped by, and early autumn arrived.

The green leaves turned yellow, yet still hung on the branches, not ready to fall.

Li Yuan, hair white as frost, sat alone in the courtyard. He never summoned Jing Shuixiang, Cui Huayin, or Yao Jue, yet the three women took turns keeping him company, each understanding his wish for quiet.

One day the first yellow leaf drifted down in a lazy spiral and landed at his feet.

Across the stone table Jing Shuixiang was brewing tea. Li Yuan looked up and said, “Shuixiang, I want to go away for a while.”

She paused, then nodded. “I’ve always known. You’ve wanted to leave for a long time.”

“But before I set out, there’s one last thing I have to do.”

“The Holy Tree Temple has no other weaponsmiths now,” she replied, “but the other four powers of the Five Elements Alliance still do. All I have to do is bring some blood gold with me and do a little travelling, or I can wait for one of Master Gong’s younger pupils. Someone will eventually rise to forge my weapon.”

Li Yuan snorted. “My wife using a weapon made by strangers? Unthinkable.”

She sighed. “But your health—”

“A man about to wander the world has already settled his heart. Forging a spirit artifact for you is my final wish. When it’s done, I’ll leave.”

Jing Shuixiang’s shoulders trembled. “So soon?”

“I’m an old man; my time is nearly up. The Holy Tree Temple hardly needs to keep a relic on the payroll.” He took a small booklet from his robe and passed it over. “Elder Jing, this is the weaponsmithing manual that Master Zhu left behind to me. Pass it onto the Holy Tree Temple for me. And smooth things over, will you?

“As for my own affairs, say nothing to Ping'an or Huayin for now. After I’m gone, there are two parcels I’d like you to hand them.”

She accepted the booklet in silence.