Chapter Twenty-Three: Lonely Splendor

Shen Lian could hardly bear to keep watching; the man in the green robe was too fierce, and it seemed Ling Chongxiao was about to lose.

But at that critical moment, Ling Chongxiao’s lower abdomen suddenly collapsed inward, without warning, as thin as a sheet of paper.

For a master such as the man in green, every gesture and movement was measured, each moment of victory or defeat calculated precisely. Yet no matter how skilled he was, he never expected that after Ling Chongxiao had already been struck by the "God-Extinguishing Sword," even with his high martial prowess, he could not possibly react in time to this sudden "snatching chestnuts from the fire."

The palm force cut through the air, but the hand never actually touched Ling Chongxiao’s body.

That cunning and venomous energy dissipated, vanishing like mud sinking silently into the sea.

Suddenly, Shen Lian caught a whiff of a unique fragrance, subtly sweet, refreshing his mind.

Ling Chongxiao’s blue eyebrows turned blood-red, forming dense droplets of blood.

The fragrance emanated from these blood beads, a result of his vital essence suddenly condensing and bursting forth so fiercely that even the "White Tiger Submission" realm could not contain his energy completely.

It was clear how great the power Ling Chongxiao was about to unleash.

Ling Chongxiao’s other hand transformed from a palm into a fist, resembling the shaft of a great spear, trembling straight in the wind.

The change was so swift that Shen Lian was caught completely unprepared, never imagining that the two who had seemed so evenly matched would suddenly determine victory and defeat in such an unexpected way.

The man in green robe fell outside the great hall like a paper kite, into the rain.

Just as he had killed others countless times before, this time, he too would not survive.

His eyes brimmed with blood, his expression unchanged—still the self-assured air from before his final move, a trace of satisfaction mingling with arrogance.

But none of this could alter the fact: he had lost, utterly and completely.

A wisp of green smoke rose from his body, floating in the rain, tinged with blood. Even the torrential downpour could not wash it away.

A wooden fish sounded, like a bell at dawn or drum at dusk, stirring the soul.

The clear, resonant sound surpassed metal and stone, dispersing the green smoke, which finally returned to the man’s body, leaving no further trace.

Shen Lian did not sigh or sympathize; he simply felt something indescribable.

He wondered, if life could be lived again, would the man in green robe still choose the same path?

To treat human life as insignificant is not only to disregard others, but also one’s own. Such disregard cannot sustain longevity.

A warm current flowed through Shen Lian’s body; he felt his limbs and bones heat up as the warmth rushed through him. Before he realized it, he was already able to stand.

Ling Chongxiao’s blue eyebrows had become blood-red, but this did not make him seem fierce. Rather, he appeared as a master calmly seeking enlightenment amid a sea of blood.

Like a bodhisattva dwelling among demons, tranquil and compassionate.

Especially since Ling Chongxiao was bald, he looked even more like a venerable monk.

Shen Lian could not help but smile.

His gaze fell upon Ling Chongxiao’s bare head; naturally, Ling Chongxiao noticed.

He patted Shen Lian’s forehead and softly sang, “Bald head, bald head, never worries about rain. Others have umbrellas, I have my bald head. Child, you mustn’t be rude to your elders.”

“Uh, I’m not a child, and your singing is really terrible,” Shen Lian replied earnestly.

“Children never like to admit they’re children,” Ling Chongxiao smiled.

Shen Lian never expected Ling Chongxiao to have such a mischievous side. But when he observed Ling Chongxiao’s gaze, still fixed on the rain and the body of the man in green robe, he realized it was merely a way to vent his emotions.

After all, the man in green was his junior, with whom he had trained for many years.

The man in green was merciless; Ling Chongxiao was not. Shen Lian suddenly understood the difference between them.

The man in green robe believed “outside the Way, nothing matters,” making himself ruthless and estranged from all kin, too extreme.

Ling Chongxiao, however, still regarded himself as human, with joy and sorrow, love and hatred.

It’s hard to say whose character better suited the pursuit of the Way. Ling Chongxiao, though alive, was not enlightened, but he was certainly much more approachable.

*****

News of the man in green robe’s disappearance quickly reached the old master of the Shen family. The saying goes, “If you don't kill the snake, it will bite you”—no one understood this better than he.

So as soon as he received the news, the Shen family immediately entered a state of alert.

What unsettled the old man even more was that, as the authorities sent word of the incident, they also casually inquired about Shen Lian.

He found this strange. Being meticulous in everything, he sensed there was more to it.

He never imagined that Shen Lian had shaken off the people he assigned to watch him, and then, through the prefect, sought out the man in green robe.

The prefect sent someone to deliver a message, merely to test whether the old master was aware of the situation. In any case, Shen Lian’s disappearance from the prison with the man in green robe was something he would never admit.

As for whether Shen Lian was alive or dead, the prefect did not know. His only hope was that Shen Lian, having entered the prison through him, would not let word reach the Shen family.

This matter worried the prefect for some time, until, a day later, he heard the news that Shen Lian had returned safely to the Shen family.

Only then did the prefect relax, but he still wondered about the fate of the man in green robe. He knew Shen Lian held the answer, but had no chance to ask.

Three days later, the prefect finally found an opportunity.

The old master of the Shen family suddenly entrusted the largest inn in the city—Tongfu Inn—to Shen Lian’s management.

The message was clear: the old master intended to groom Shen Lian as the Shen family’s heir.

This decision traced back to that day when the entire Shen family was in lockdown. By evening, Shen Lian, who had gone out to pay respects to his mother, returned safely, easing the worries of Shen Qingshan and the old master.

Along with Shen Lian, several Shen family guards who had been secretly monitoring him also returned.

They had trailed Shen Lian, but lost him, fearing harsh punishment. One split off to report back, while the others searched for Shen Lian at Jialan Monastery.

They did indeed find him on the mountain, soaked to the bone.

He was walking with a monk, whose face was fair, and who led Shen Lian along the mountain path.

When they approached, the monk paid them no heed, drifting away like mist.

On that rainy day, the mountain paths were slippery, but the monk seemed unaffected, moving as if on level ground, quickly vanishing from sight.

Some guards asked Shen Lian about the monk’s origins.

Shen Lian only smiled, saying nothing, and returned home with them.

Upon returning, Shen Lian declared with certainty that the man in green robe was dead, and would say no more, not even to the old master.

Shen Lian himself requested to manage an inn; the old master was generous, and since Shen Lian wished to venture into business, it suited his wishes.

Thus, the largest and oldest inn in the city, Tongfu Inn, was given to Shen Lian to oversee.

PS: Thanks to the rewards from Painted Thousand Peaks (1888), sky_headshot (588), 1973 (200), and Dedicated to Screwing Teammates, Emptiness Watches Longing, Maybe Many, Sword Singing Nine Heavens.

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