Chapter 55#

The little cat immediately made a decision to keep this matter sealed forever in its heart.

In its mind, it made a silent vow to treat its host even better from now on!

Such a wonderful host absolutely couldn’t be stolen by anyone else.

Seeing its strange expression, Xue Jingci asked: “What were you secretly discussing with 6B?”

The little cat concealed its nervousness, saying steadily: “Oh, we were discussing how to seal the passage. It said it would think of a solution and come find us tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

Xue Jingci hadn’t expected to leave this world so quickly. For a moment, he stood dazed.

After thinking, he decided to tell Pei Huang about leaving immediately.

Pei Huang didn’t hesitate, nodding in agreement: “It’s good to return early. The time flow between the two worlds isn’t the same.”

They’d only been here three months, but in the other world, ten years had already passed.

Ten years—time enough for vast changes. No one knew what transformations the people and affairs there would undergo.

Xue Jingci felt little sentiment about it.

He sat cross-legged, closing his eyes to meditate and cultivate, carefully sensing his spiritual energy gradually filling his body.

His external wounds had mostly healed, but the cultivation destroyed by the diamond pestle could only be slowly rebuilt.

Pei Huang, seeing him close his eyes, finally allowed his restrained gaze to fall openly upon him.

That day, Jinchi had sensed Pei Huang’s attention and, through unknown means, thoroughly examined Xue Jingci’s body.

Fearing it would affect Pei Huang’s mind, she only told him one thing after he fully awakened his bloodline power:

Xue Jingci had suffered severe injuries from the magical weapon. Later, forcing spiritual energy circulation had damaged his foundation. In this lifetime, his cultivation could only stop at the Golden Core stage.

The firelight reflected Xue Jingci’s pale face. Pei Huang’s heart felt blocked.

Initially, choosing to save Xue Jingci, he’d told himself that once this person healed, they would part ways.

But could this really be considered healed?

Pei Huang clenched his fists, realizing that deep in his heart, he actually wanted to leave together with Xue Jingci.

But the place he would go was filled with filth and blood—the demonic realm, forever despised by righteous cultivators.

Xue Jingci was pure and flawless, radiating righteous aura. How could he be tainted by the filth on his hands?

Pei Huang silently withdrew his gaze. After a long time, he quietly said: “Since we leave tomorrow, why not return to the village now and bid everyone farewell?”

Xue Jingci opened his eyes, momentarily stunned.

Farewell?

His nature was cold. These years, traveling everywhere, he’d always left on a whim, never specifically saying goodbye to anyone.

Hearing Pei Huang say this, he suddenly realized that leaving a place—or leaving a person—required a proper farewell.

Xue Jingci agreed, and the two returned to the village, first visiting village chief Tawa’s home.

Seeing Xue Jingci and Pei Huang, Tawa’s expression became excited.

That day when Pei Huang awakened his bloodline power, Tawa had witnessed it. He now viewed this person as the snow mountain’s deity.

Recalling his previous discourtesy, Tawa felt both guilty and afraid. Instinctively, he began to kneel, but Pei Huang stopped him.

“We’re leaving. We came to bid everyone farewell.”

With that, Pei Huang retrieved the bow and arrows Tawa had lent him. They’d been re-coated with tung oil and the bowstring re-tightened.

Bayar hugged a small lamb, hiding by the door while secretly wiping tears.

Seeing Xue Jingci look over, she quickly wiped her face with her sleeve and came to pour barley tea for them.

“Actually, years ago, another stranger like you visited our home,” Tawa said, his eyes betraying the melancholy of parting. He raised his hand, producing a box containing a painting.

Carefully unrolling the scroll, he reminisced: “I was Bayar’s age then. My sister painted this. She’s gone now, but the happiness from that time remains in my memory.”

Xue Jingci looked, and surprise quickly appeared in his eyes.

In the center of the painting was a snow mountain with undulating layers. At its base lay an extraordinary scene of a hundred flowers blooming.

Several nomads in beast fur robes were meditating cross-legged. The central figure’s dress differed from the others—a fighting outfit with a long sword on his back…

It was unmistakably Yan Xing, whom he’d seen in the ghost pearl illusion!

Pei Huang’s eyes also showed surprise.

Jinchi had once mentioned that someone surnamed Yan came here with a sword sheath, and they learned of the space-time passage to other worlds…

So that person was Yan Xing.

Xue Jingci’s eyes flashed with sudden comprehension, feeling the strange sentiment of encountering an old friend in a distant land.

Learning that the two were leaving, others hurried over. At the village entrance, they lit a bonfire and roasted freshly slaughtered beef.

The meat was fat and thick, its surface seasoned with salt and green onions, quickly releasing an enticing aroma.

Initially, those arriving came to bid farewell. Some came to apologize—like the hunter who’d bound them with rope.

But soon, increasingly more people were simply drawn by the firelight and aroma. They carried bags of fermented mare’s milk or buckets of barley tea, sitting down casually.

When half the cow had been butchered, numerous unfamiliar faces had joined the circle.

These people didn’t know the bonfire was for farewell. On the grassland, wherever there’s commotion, people gather. Joining in laughter seemed to need no reason.

“Come, drink! Eat meat!”

The grassland’s grass was fine, yet it blocked the biting cold wind. The bonfire burned fiercely, swaying in the gusts.

Drunken nomads casually picked up yellowed grass, tossing it on the fire, instantly making it flare.

Wine bags circulated among everyone’s hands, quickly emptying. By the time it reached one hunter, not a drop remained.

Unbothered, he staggered off with the bag to a stream, filled it with fresh water, then happily refilled everyone’s cups.

Everyone laughed. Even Xue Jingci seemed infected by the festiveness, a slight smile appearing.

This farewell seemed different from what he’d imagined.

At midnight, most people lay drunk on the ground. Xue Jingci, having drunk watered-down wine, felt somewhat dazed.

Pei Huang helped him up, worried the cold wind would make him uncomfortable. Together they walked toward the felt tent.

Xue Jingci fell asleep the moment he touched the bedding.

Pei Huang rarely saw him so exhausted. Upon reflection, he suddenly remembered—Xue Jingci had guarded him by the lake for seven days.

He picked up a wool felt and covered Xue Jingci, then stood and organized the tent’s contents.

With his bloodline power awakened, he could freely access his storage ring.

Pei Huang carefully packed the small pot they’d used, the honey jar with some remaining, the fire torches now dry.

Then he sat beside Xue Jingci, quietly watching him and waiting for dawn’s arrival.

Xue Jingci woke early, the sky still gray.

Pei Huang had already prepared honey sweet porridge in the small pot, placing it in a bowl by the bed, keeping it warm with magic.

Xue Jingci took a sip. The lingering alcohol instantly disappeared.

He pushed open the tent, drawing in a breath of cold wind carrying grass scent and ice particles. In the distance, he saw Pei Huang approaching from outside the village, carrying a bundle of firewood.

Seeing Xue Jingci, Pei Huang quickened his pace. Upon reaching him, he untied a cloak from the wall and offered it: “It’s near the snow mountain there. You should wear more.”

Hearing this, Xue Jingci remembered his task. They would leave today.

He looked at the sky: “Shall we go now?”

Pei Huang nodded: “Wait for me a moment.”

He climbed atop the tent, carefully rolling up the outer wool felt, then dismantled the wooden supports, bundling each piece.

Since they’d borrowed this tent from Saihan’s family, they should return it properly.

Xue Jingci wanted to help, but Pei Huang moved too swiftly. Xue Jingci couldn’t find an opportunity to assist.

“Let’s go.”

Pei Huang bound the disassembled tent bundle with rope, dragging it toward Saihan’s home. At the door, they happened to meet Wutuyau.

Wutuyau, pregnant, hadn’t joined the previous feasting. Now, seeing them, she hurried inside to fetch many dried meats for their journey.

After exchanging a few words, Pei Huang and Xue Jingci headed toward the village’s edge.

Xue Jingci looked back at the village, suddenly realizing that the felt tent where they’d lived for three months had vanished. The ground lay empty.

He looked at Pei Huang: “Are goodbyes complete with everyone?”

Pei Huang’s steps paused. He fixed his gaze on Xue Jingci.

In his mind, he thought: not yet. There’s still one person.

But ultimately saying nothing, he pointed ahead: “Let’s visit the tree house.”

Arriving there, they found the roof somewhat damaged—from when Pei Huang and Xue Jingci had inspected it before.

Pei Huang lifted prepared wooden boards, quickly repairing the roof.

His turbulent emotions seemed to settle, as if nailed down with each driven nail.

Pei Huang descended the tree house and looked at Xue Jingci, suddenly asking: “After we return, will you still plan to take disciples?”

Xue Jingci nodded: “Yes.”

Pei Huang stared at him steadily. Emotions Xue Jingci couldn’t decipher churned in his eyes, like the sudden whirlpools that had appeared in Bihu Lake that day.

After a long moment, he sighed softly.

“If you’re to take disciples in the future, remember to find one who listens well. Ideally, start training from childhood so they’ll depend on you more.”

“Shape their character entirely yourself. Even when grown, they won’t stray.”

Xue Jingci listened seriously, his expression remaining unchanged.

Pei Huang, seeing his expressionless face, felt both relieved he remained oblivious and an indescribable sourness.

Xue Jingci looked at the repaired roof, suddenly speaking: “I thought you’d forgotten about this.”

Pei Huang shook his head: “I wouldn’t forget. You taught me before.”

Broken things must be repaired.

Xue Jingci was startled, recalling the divine tablet with a hole dug by Pei Huang in East Village.

Later, they’d dismantled the wood together, carved it into artwork, and sold it to repay the villagers.

Pei Huang studied Xue Jingci carefully. After dancing on the precipice of death, even three months of careful care couldn’t fully conceal his pallor and weakness.

Where others couldn’t see, Xue Jingci had been continuously betrayed by two disciples, suffering such injuries.

Beyond physical wounds, scars marked his heart.

That day, he’d even questioned if it was his fault.

Pei Huang clenched his teeth, suppressing the pain threatening to overflow from his heart. He looked at Xue Jingci and said: “So you’re an excellent master. Their decisions aren’t your responsibility.”

“That I’ve come this far is because you once taught me, enabling me to accomplish much.”

Xue Jingci asked, confused: “What did I teach you?”

“Swordplay and calligraphy…”

Pei Huang managed a slight smile: “And some… things you don’t know about.”

Wind whispered through the trees.

He spoke seriously, his expression tender. Xue Jingci suddenly found it hard to look away and didn’t want to part with him.

Since the system’s objectives proved unreliable, why couldn’t he find a disciple himself?

“The person you describe, I can only think of one.”

Xue Jingci’s eyes, always still as calm water, suddenly brightened. He fixed his gaze on Pei Huang, his look growing increasingly intense: “Would you be willing to become my disciple?”