Chapter 52 Farewell
The night was as dark as ink, and in the ruined temple among the mountains, the campfire flickered.
Li Hanzhou and Han Yu curled up on a pile of dry grass, already fast asleep. After a day of fear and half a day of trekking across mountains, even their breathing carried the weight of exhaustion.
Only Chen Chang'an and Ling Zhanxue remained before the fire.
Chen Chang'an leaned against a mottled pillar of the temple, raising his wine pouch from time to time to take a swig.
Even though his clone's cultivation had fallen to the Object Control Realm, a cultivator's body was not easily intoxicated. Yet the taste of this "Drunken Thousand Autumns" drew him in—the faint dizziness, the flavor so close to the wine of his homeland, always stirring indescribable feelings.
"What wine is that?" Ling Zhanxue suddenly asked, his voice cold as frost.
"Drunken Thousand Autumns." Chen Chang'an shook the pouch. "Brought it for a friend. Prepared plenty, but I only saw that fellow drink it once."
A faint smile touched Ling Zhanxue's lips. "Then he must be a good friend."
"Not really. A friend I met only twice." Chen Chang'an shook his head, then asked, "Want a sip?"
Ling Zhanxue nodded with reserved composure.
Chen Chang'an casually tossed the pouch over.
The white-robed youth caught it with ease, but frowned when he saw the mouth of the pouch.
He disdainfully wiped the opening with his sleeve, hesitated a moment, then refrained from drinking directly. Instead, he drew a delicate silver cup from his robes, poured the wine into it, and only then took a small sip.
"Fussy." Chen Chang'an sneered.
Ling Zhanxue ignored him, carefully savoring the wine. Only after a pause did he say, "It truly is good wine."
The fire crackled, its glow dancing across their faces.
Chen Chang'an gazed into the flames. Suddenly, he asked, "Why are you heading south?"
"To find someone." Ling Zhanxue replied faintly, the silver cup turning lightly between his fingers.
"And have you found them?"
Ling Zhanxue was silent for a long while before finally nodding. "I have."
Chen Chang'an only smiled, saying nothing.
…
For the next two days, the four traveled together.
By day, Ling Zhanxue was always the picture of elegance—white robes brighter than snow, graceful in word and bearing. But when night fell, and only he and Chen Chang'an remained by the fire, this seemingly carefree youth always revealed his fastidiousness. He would never drink directly from Chen Chang'an's pouch, insisting on using his silver cup.
"You, acting so lofty by day, but at night you turn picky." Chen Chang'an scoffed, tilting back another mouthful of Drunken Thousand Autumns.
Ling Zhanxue slowly wiped the rim of his cup. "Just a quirk of cleanliness."
"Cleanliness?" Chen Chang'an raised a brow. "Yet you've followed us all this way, sleeping in broken temples and eating dry rations. Why don't you find that filthy?"
"…." Ling Zhanxue glanced at him but said nothing, only poured more wine into his cup and took a small sip.
Chen Chang'an laughed heartily.
—This exchange repeated itself almost every night.
Until the final evening, when the outline of the distant valley came into view. Chen Chang'an stopped and looked at the white-robed youth beside him. "We're almost there."
Ling Zhanxue nodded slightly, as though he had long expected this moment.
The mountain wind stirred, lifting the jade band that tied his hair, making him appear all the more ethereal.
"Thank you." Chen Chang'an's voice turned serious. "That day at the city gates—had you not secretly aided us, we might not have escaped safely."
Ling Zhanxue's eyes flickered. After a pause, he admitted, "So you recognized me."
Chen Chang'an merely glanced at the pouch at his waist.
Ling Zhanxue immediately understood, let out a soft laugh, and even patted his waist lightly. "Trust it to be you, always meddling."
For a moment, there was even a hint of playfulness in his tone, which left Chen Chang'an faintly uneasy.
This guy… could he be that way…?
But the next instant, Ling Zhanxue's expression turned solemn. "Brother Chen, are you not curious about my identity?"
"Of course I am curious," Chen Chang'an replied bluntly.
Ling Zhanxue nodded, finally speaking frankly. "In truth… I am the Inspector of Qingzhou."
"The annihilation of the Eight Elephant Sect overnight was suspected to be the work of the Wang clan, yet there was no solid proof. Still, their conduct clearly showed they were searching for something."
His voice was calm, yet every word was clear. "Afterward, I learned Han Yu and Li Hanzhou were the only two disciples to escape the Eight Elephant Sect. I then surmised that what the Wang clan sought was most likely with them."
Chen Chang'an was not surprised. He only asked, "Why did you not act?"
"Opportunities are guided by fate; forcing them is meaningless." Ling Zhanxue glanced at the two youths in the distance admiring the scenery, and in his eyes appeared a rare trace of gentleness. "All I wished for in traveling with them was to judge their character. I only hope such fortune does not fall into wicked hands."
"And what do you think of the two of them?"
Ling Zhanxue smiled faintly, yet gave no answer.
But Chen Chang'an understood—such silence was itself an answer.
"One last question." Chen Chang'an raised a finger. "Since you are certain of their character, why have you followed us all the way here?"
"Why, to protect you, of course." Ling Zhanxue laughed with ease. "As Qingzhou's appointed official, it is my duty to safeguard the people. Now that we have traveled this far without encountering the Wang clan's cultivators, it should be safe. So it is also time for me to say farewell."
He turned to Chen Chang'an, lips curving slightly. "Drunken Thousand Autumns is truly fine wine."
Chen Chang'an could not help but smile as well.
…
The mountain wind rose, dusk settling in.
Ling Zhanxue stood on the stone path, his white robes tinged gold and red by the evening glow. He turned to face the three, the jade band at his hair fluttering in the wind, the sword at his waist gleaming coldly in the fading light.
"This is as far as I'll send you." His voice was clear and smooth, like water striking stone.
Han Yu and Li Hanzhou exchanged a glance. Youths could not hide their hearts; their eyes brimmed with reluctance.
In these past two days together, this seemingly aloof youth had in truth looked after them constantly—silently draping a cloak over them during night watch, quietly taking the outermost path when they passed dangerous roads.
"Senior Ling…" Han Yu clasped his fists, his throat tightening.
Ling Zhanxue lifted a hand to stop him, drawing two jade talismans from his sleeve. "These are Heart-Clearing Talismans. Worn close, they ward off miasma."
Li Hanzhou accepted one. His fingertips brushed lingering warmth upon it, and he suddenly bowed deeply. "Many thanks."
Chen Chang'an stood with arms crossed, lips curled in amusement. "The Inspector is generous indeed."
Ling Zhanxue ignored his teasing, unfastened a plain white pouch from his waist, and tossed it over. "For you."
Chen Chang'an caught it. It was heavy in his hand. Opening it, he saw a pouch full of spirit tea, its leaves fresh and green as though just plucked, carrying a faint chill of frost.
"Use it sparingly." Ling Zhanxue said lightly. "Consider it a parting gift."
Even before his words had faded, the sound of brittle leaves snapping echoed from the distance.
All four changed expression at once. Ling Zhanxue's right hand was already on his sword hilt—yet only a mountain sparrow burst from the treetops in a flurry.
The tension eased in an instant, but Ling Zhanxue's brows furrowed.
Because—
"The Eight Elephant Sect truly had survivors after all!"
A sinister voice hissed into their ears like a venomous serpent.
"No wonder this old man followed in person!"
From the shadows of the forest, a gaunt figure stepped forth. His gray robes fluttered, eyes radiating murderous intent—
It was the Wang clan's patriarch, Wang Songzhou!
At his side stood a middle-aged man—the very one who had once been seen beside the master of the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion.
…
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