"Qin Yan..." Fu Changling said in disbelief, "Which Yan?"
"Shui Chaozong is the descendant of Haimiao." The storyteller noticed the strange look on Fu Changling's face and asked in confusion, "Why, do you know him?"
Everyone looked at Fu Changling, and at that moment, bells rang nearby.
The sound of the bell seemed to come from far away, and everyone was a little surprised: "It's the Bahe Bell?"
The Bahe Bell is a magical instrument used by Hongmeng Tiangong to inform everyone of Yunze's affairs. When the Bahe Bell is rung, the decree can be heard from anywhere in Yunze. Therefore, the Bahe Bell is not activated casually. Since Ye Lan's death, it has only been used to announce matters during each succession of Hongmeng Tiangong Palace Masters.
"Something happened to Palace Master Jiang?"
These mortals in the remote area were unaware of the recent events. When they suddenly heard the Bahe Bell, they all panicked.
When Fu Changling heard the Bahe Bell, he raised his head and looked towards the direction of Hongmeng Heavenly Palace, and then he heard Qin Yan's voice coming from the sky.
"The laws of nature are constant, but life is unpredictable. As demonic cultivators enter the realm, war is about to begin. The soul of Hongmeng Palace Master Jiang Yebai has returned. To stabilize Yunze, I have specially appointed Hongmeng Palace's first disciple Qin Yan to temporarily succeed him as acting Palace Master, with the Taoist name Sui Yan. The Eight Combinations are witnesses, witnessed by heaven and earth. Gentlemen of Yunze, obey my order."
After he finished speaking, white flowers fell from the sky like snow, and mournful music came from afar.
After a brief moment of shock, everyone around stood up, raised their hands to their chests, and bowed.
In the Hongmeng Heavenly Palace, Qin Yan took his hand off the Bahe Bell, turned his head to look at the elders and the four sect masters who were accompanying him, and said respectfully: "Junior has completed the transmission."
"Then take a break," Yang Jun walked forward and said with a smile, "Once all the sect leaders arrive tomorrow, we can prepare for the Immortal Alliance's founding ceremony."
Upon hearing this, Sect Master Mengyang snorted coldly. Yang Jun looked at him with a half-smile, "Sect Master Mengyang, you're still not convinced. Do you want to scare this junior like this?"
"They are all going to be the current palace masters."
Sect Master Meng Yang mocked: "Will you still be frightened by this old man?"
"Indeed." Yang Jun put his whisk on his sleeve. "If you, the senior, were stronger than Palace Master Qin, he would have to be afraid. Unfortunately, Palace Master Qin is a genius. Now, like Sect Master Mengyang, they are both in the Spiritual Transformation Stage."
As he spoke, Yang Jun leaned close to Sect Master Meng Yang's face and said with a look of great joy, "A Spiritual Transformation Stage cultivator under the age of twenty."
"You speak as if you're better than him." Sect Master Mengyang sneered, "Sect Master Yang is over three hundred years old now. He's older but not more mature. Why would he compare himself to these little kids? Could it be that Sect Master Yang has undergone a tribulation?"
"I know I'm not as good as them, so I won't compete." Yang Jun said directly, "I don't know why an old man like you is competing so hard. You're old and weak, so take a break."
"you!!"
The Mengyang Sect Master raised his hand. Yang Jun dodged behind Sanggan Jun and shouted excitedly, "Sanggan, draw your sword and kill him!"
Sang Ganjun remained calm as he stood in front of Yang Jun, staring at Sect Master Mengyang quietly. He said calmly, "Sect Master Mengyang, our Sect Master is just this unreliable."
When Sect Master Mengyang heard this, his expression softened slightly, thinking that Sanggan-Jun was about to apologize. Then he heard Sanggan-Jun say, "You just need to get used to it."
Sect Master Meng Yang's blood boiled, and he felt that he could not stay here for a moment longer, so he flicked his sleeves and turned to leave.
After Sect Master Meng Yang left, everyone left one after another, leaving only Su Wenji standing there. Qin Yan turned around and looked at Su Wenji standing there, asking with some confusion, "Wenji?"
"You were busy the past few days, so I didn't come to bother you. Now that you're free, I want to go for a walk with you."
Qin Yan and Su Wenji walked down the stairs together. Su Wenji tapped the ground lightly with his bamboo stick. He asked slowly, "Has Fu Changling left?"
"I left before daybreak."
"He'll be fine." Su Wenji said calmly. Qin Yan paused for a long time before he said, "Wenji, can you answer a question for me?"
"That's a question I can't answer."
Su Wenji seemed to know what he was going to ask and said directly: "God gave me these eyes, not so that I can change my fate, but just so that I can see my fate, but I can't do anything about it."
"To change your fate, you have to pay a price."
Qin Yan stopped walking, but Su Wenji didn't. He walked forward, tapping his bamboo cane and saying, "I'll tell you everything I can, Ah Yan. You only need to remember one thing."
"No matter when," Su Wenji seemed to notice that he had stopped. He turned around, his eyes covered with white silk as if he could clearly see the person behind him. He looked up at Qin Yan and smiled, and red spider lilies bloomed on the corners of his clothes. "Don't give up. Just grit your teeth and persevere."
"One thousand years, two thousand years, three thousand years," Su Wenji turned his head and said in a distant voice, "You will always get what you want."
"Two stars shine in the sky, but you are the only one who shines as bright as ever."
Having said that, Su Wenji walked downstairs.
The wind blew the corner of Qin Yan's clothes, and Qin Yan raised his hand to touch his earrings.
He closed his eyes gently.
By the Samsara Bridge, white flowers fell like snow for a long time, echoing in the wilderness along with mournful music. After the white flowers and the mournful music disappeared, the teahouse remained silent for a long time. Finally, someone timidly spoke: "That person just now said, Qin Yan?"
"I was wondering why this name sounds so familiar!"
Someone got excited: "Isn't the eldest brother of Hongmeng Tiangong the one with the natural spiritual roots, Qin Yan?!"
"Is he the child you saw that year?"
Everyone looked at the storyteller, who also looked bewildered: "I... I don't know either. There are so many people with the same name in the world, and I've never seen this Taoist master, so how dare I say anything?"
Everyone started talking at once, discussing the possibility that Qin Yan was the child from that year. Fu Changling listened quietly. He felt it was a bit absurd, but deep down, he felt a little uneasy.
Seeing that everyone was discussing heatedly, he stood up and walked over to the middle-aged man who had initially offered to help build the blood pool. He sat down next to the middle-aged man, poured him a glass of wine, and said with a smile, "Uncle, can I ask you something?"
"Young man, I knew you had something to ask me."
The middle-aged man said with a hint of pride: "For the sake of your glass of wine, you can ask."
"Uncle, do you still remember what Yue Sinan asked you to carve under the blood pond when it was built?"
As Fu Changling spoke, he raised his hand and a brush appeared in his hand. Then he wiped his other hand on the table and a piece of paper appeared on the table.
Everyone was stunned, but they were still rational. After all, there were Yunze monks everywhere. But everyone couldn't help but have a little more respect for Fu Changling.
The middle-aged man became a little nervous and stammered, "I...I can't remember clearly."
After all, it happened fifteen years ago.
Fu Changling listened, smiled reassuringly, handed the paper and pen to the middle-aged man, and said gently: "Don't worry, come on, draw as much as you can remember, it's fine as long as you draw it."
The middle-aged man nodded, swallowed, took out a pen and paper, drew a big circle, and then drew several intersecting traces.
He really didn't remember much, and he finished the painting in just a few strokes. The middle-aged man was a little nervous, and turned to look at Fu Changling and said, "Immortal Lord, I really..."
Fu Changling looked at the paper, but couldn't make out anything. Finally, he asked, "Do you know where the blood-transforming pool is?"
"I know," the middle-aged man swallowed, "but the place is now deserted and full of monsters. Do you still want to go there, Immortal Lord?"
"Go ahead."
Fu Changling laughed and said, "I'll go and get rid of the demon for you."
"No need," everyone shook their heads. "Those monsters have been causing trouble for years. You'd better not go over there."
"It's okay." Fu Changling was full of confidence, "I have great magical powers."
Everyone was silent. Fu Changling glanced around, and everyone who met his gaze immediately retreated. Fu Changling raised an eyebrow: "You don't believe me."
"No, no."
"Why don't you tell me then?"
Everyone was silent. Fu Changling thrust his sword into the table and angrily shouted, "Still not telling me?!"
"Little brother," the storyteller said with some difficulty, "How can you change your mind so easily? You want the location of the blood-melting pool? Come, come, I'll draw it for you."
Upon hearing this, Fu Changling retracted his sword, placed the paper and pen in front of the storyteller, and said with a smile, "Thank you. You have a bright future ahead of you."
At that time, any mortal who survived was considered to have a future, and those who had no future had already died in the Yunze catastrophe.
But the storyteller was not happy to hear this. He kept silent for a long time and said, "You just said the same thing to the waiter. I am a scholar."
"Your future is your own, and the definitions are different."
The storyteller listened to Fu Changling's consolation and calmed down a little. After drawing a map for Fu Changling, he handed it to him and said, "My Lord, I see you are very young..."
Fu Changling didn't want to listen to them anymore, and disappeared from the house in a blink of an eye, taking away a plate of peanuts.
The waiter was the first to react. He hurriedly chased after him and shouted, "Daojun, give me money!"
As soon as he finished speaking, a spirit stone rolled to the feet of the waiter. The waiter bent down to pick up the spirit stone, examined its quality, and said with some regret, "How could such a generous guest die so young?"
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