Two years
Above the battlefield, the sky, stained by resentment and smoke, unexpectedly began to ripple with pure and gentle waves.
With a strange power that cleanses the soul and soothes the restlessness, it instantly dispelled the pervasive blood and resentment.
Everyone instinctively looked up.
At the center of the ripples, two figures slowly emerged.
The leader was a woman, dressed simply and plainly, in the style most common among hermits in the mountains, in a pale white and light blue fabric.
Her hair was simply tied up with an old wooden hairpin that gleamed with a warm luster, with a few strands of silver hair naturally interspersed among her black hair. Far from making her look old, it added a sense of composure and loftiness that came with the passage of time.
Her face was plain and unremarkable, except for her eyes, which were incredibly clear and deep. They were quietly, with a barely perceptible dark fluctuation, fixed on Xie Linyang, who was already dead in Jiang Cheng's arms below.
She emanated no imposing aura, yet her very presence was like a tranquil law, quietly calming all the restlessness of the surrounding spiritual energy, even softening the howling wind as it swept through the ruins.
She simply stood there, seemingly out of place in this bloody battlefield, detached from worldly affairs, and unfathomable.
Half a step to her side, a young man stood quietly by.
The boy was about twelve or thirteen years old, with a tall and straight figure like a newly sprouted bamboo. He wore an extremely clean white Taoist robe, with simple flowing cloud patterns embroidered on the hem and cuffs, spotless.
He was exceptionally handsome, with clear, bright eyes like distant mountains shrouded in mist. His pupils were particularly clear and bright, black and white distinct, reflecting the light and shadow of the sky and clouds, without a trace of impurity. His nose was straight, and his lips were a pale pink. His face still carried a hint of youthful innocence, but there was already a calm and serene air about him, like the clearest solitary moon in the night sky, or a gentle breeze quietly flowing across a mountain peak.
He simply stood quietly, head slightly bowed, his expression respectful and focused, as if the surrounding tragedy and the grief of the crowd could not disturb the natural tranquility and nobility surrounding him.
It was Xiao Xingchen, who was still young but already showed the potential to become a "bright moon and gentle breeze" in the future.
He was clearly aware of the situation below, and his gaze fell on Xie Linyang with concern, his eyes revealing a clear worry. However, he adhered to his duty as a disciple and stood quietly without saying a word until his master spoke.
"Who is she?" the crowd whispered among themselves.
"Judging from this situation, could it be..."
A magnificent name suddenly came to mind: who else could be the legendary immortal cultivator Baoshan Sanren who appeared when Xie Linyang was in danger?
Her appearance was like a thunderclap in the still night, resounding in everyone's minds.
Baoshan Sanren!
The legendary hermit master, Xie Linyang's teacher, has appeared in the world at this very moment!
Everyone, including the grief-stricken Jiang Cheng, instinctively stopped what they were doing and stared in astonishment at the sky.
Even Meng Yao, who was immersed in great shock and confusion, seemed to be attracted by this sudden and completely different aura. Her empty eyes moved and looked up at the simple yet lofty figure in the sky.
Baoshan Sanren's gaze had never left Xie Linyang since he appeared. His deep eyes, initially calm like an ancient, still pool, then slowly spread with a clear, heavy heartache, like ripples spreading from a pebble thrown into the center of the pool. The heartache wasn't intense, yet it seemed to carry all the longing for his disciple over the years and the present sorrow, serene and profound.
She ignored the various expressions on the faces of the crowd below, and didn't even glance at Wen Ruohan's corpse or the stunned Meng Yao. It was as if those people and events were of no concern to her at this moment. She simply raised her hand slightly and made a feint towards Xie Linyang's direction.
A gentle breeze, soft to the extreme yet imbued with undeniable power of law, arose out of nowhere, softly lifting Xie Linyang's cold body and slowly carrying her away from Jiang Cheng's almost stiff and broken embrace. She flew steadily into the air and finally hovered in front of Baoshan Sanren. The gesture was like guiding a fallen leaf back to its roots.
"senior!!!"
Jiang Cheng seemed to wake from a dream, and the immense panic and the sudden grasp at the last straw of hope caused him to burst into a shrill scream.
He practically tumbled forward, collapsing heavily to his knees in the direction of the figure in the air, his forehead slamming against the cold, blood-stained ground with a dull thud.
"Please! Please save her! Save Lin Yang!" His voice was hoarse, filled with boundless despair and a humble plea. "She did it to save me... no, she did it to save... she did it to..."
He was incoherent, overwhelmed with grief and confusion, unable to form coherent words. He could only kowtow repeatedly, his forehead quickly becoming a bloody mess. "As long as I can save her, I am willing to pay any price! My life, my cultivation, even my soul being scattered... anything is fine with me!"
He cried out, each word seeming to be torn from the depths of his heart; his love and fear, bordering on madness, broke the hearts of those who heard it.
Despite his injuries, Wei Wuxian said in a hoarse voice, "Senior Baoshan! Lin Yang's soul was damaged, and Wen Ruohan's last curse was extremely vicious..." His eyes were bloodshot, filled with earnestness and anxiety.
Although Lan Wangji remained silent, his usually composed face was now tense, his light-colored eyes fixed on Baoshan Sanren, revealing deep worry and a glimmer of hope. Lan Xichen, Jiang Fengmian, Yu Ziyuan, and the others also held their breath, all their hopes pinned on this suddenly appearing reclusive master.
Baoshan Sanren finally lowered his gaze, glanced at Jiang Cheng, and then lingered on Wei Wuxian for a moment. His gaze was calm and unwavering, showing neither pity for the sorrows of the mortals nor displeasure at his recklessness, but only a clear and insightful understanding that pierced through time and appearances.
She seemed to have foreseen some cause and effect, and saw the blazing fire in the heart of the boy kneeling and begging, a fire that was almost burning him up as well.
She did not respond to Jiang Cheng's tearful pleas, nor did she comment on Wei Wuxian's explanation.
He simply extended his thin yet exceptionally clean fingers, the tips of which held a gentle white light, as warm as the first rays of dawn at the beginning of chaos, and very lightly and slowly touched Xie Linyang's cold and ashen brow.
The white light disappeared.
Xie Lin Yang showed no reaction whatsoever, not even a tremor in his eyelashes, as if that glimmer of life had been cast into the deepest, most desolate abyss.
Baoshan Sanren let out a barely audible sigh, a sigh as light as the wind rustling through bamboo leaves, yet it made the hearts of everyone watching her sink.
The deep sorrow and heartache in her eyes seemed to deepen. Without further delay, she gently pulled Xie Linyang into her arms with an invisible, soft force, like a mother embracing a child who had fallen into eternal sleep.
The other pale hand gently grasped the wrist of Xiao Xingchen, the disciple standing quietly beside him.
Upon receiving his master's signal, Xiao Xingchen immediately suppressed all outward emotions and returned to his calm and respectful demeanor, though his gaze still lingered on his senior sister's pale face with concern.
Baoshan Sanren's figure began to become ethereal, like the brushstrokes in a traditional Chinese ink painting about to fade away, about to merge with the ripples in the air that had not yet completely subsided.
"Senior! Where are you taking her?! Don't take her away! Please!" Jiang Cheng was terrified when he saw this. He shouted hoarsely and struggled to get up from the ground and chase after her, but he was blocked by an invisible and flexible aura. No matter how hard he rushed forward, he could not get any closer and could only watch the figure gradually fade away.
Baoshan Sanren did not turn back, nor did she leave a single word. She simply held Xie Linyang and held Xiao Xingchen's hand, her figure rapidly fading and becoming transparent in the center of the ripples.
"Senior! At least... at least tell me... is there any hope for her? How long? How long do I have to wait?!" Jiang Cheng threw himself against the invisible wall of energy, his hands reaching out in vain, tears streaming down his face, his voice filled with despair yet unwilling to give up on the last glimmer of hope.
In mid-air, the figure of Baoshan Sanren, who was about to disappear completely, paused slightly.
Xiao Xingchen, who had been standing silently, turned his head slightly, following some tacit understanding or his master's silent signal. The boy's clear, moon-reflected gaze fell across the gradually blurring space on the grief-stricken, almost collapsing young man in purple below.
His eyes were clear and bright, carrying a compassion and understanding beyond his years, yet he adhered to certain boundaries.
He didn't speak, but instead, very slightly, shook his head and then nodded at Jiang Cheng. The shake of his head seemed to tell him not to be so desperate and frantic. The nod seemed like a heavy promise.
His lips moved almost imperceptibly, without uttering a sound, but a clear mouth shape, along with the calm strength in his eyes, was branded into Jiang Cheng's vision, which was almost submerged in tears—
"wait."
Immediately following, the second mouth shape:
"Two years."
Having done all this, Xiao Xingchen did not linger. He turned back and respectfully served beside his master's figure, which had completely faded away.
The ripples moved gently, eventually settling back into stillness, as if they had never existed.
The sky was a clear, deep blue, and the sunlight was bright and clear.
Baoshan Sanren, Xie Linyang, and Xiao Xingchen vanished without a trace, as if everything that had just happened was merely a collective illusion created by everyone's extreme grief.
Only Jiang Cheng remained frozen in place, still gazing upwards and reaching out.
His face was still wet with tears, mingled with blood and dust, making him look utterly disheveled. Unconsciously, he murmured the same message over and over again: "Two years...wait two years...two years..."
The voice was as soft as a dream, yet it carried all the hope that had struggled to emerge from the abyss of despair, fragile yet incredibly stubborn.
The wind seemed to have become gentler, sweeping over the ruins, brushing against the heavy, astonished faces of the crowd, and also passing over Meng Yao's empty eyes and his slightly trembling fingertips.
Meng Yao gazed at the sky where Xie Linyang had disappeared. It was empty, as if the scene of the master and disciple leaving together was just a dream in his chaotic consciousness.
The only lingering sensation in his arms was the touch of her pushing him away, her final, serene gaze, and the silent words, "Live well," which were both unreal and suffocatingly real.
Live well...
Following the guidance of that gentle, moonlit youth, should we wait for what may be an uncertain two years?
He lowered his head blankly, looking at his blood-stained hands, and for the first time felt the weight of everything he had built over the past decade—
Ambition, scheming, hatred, and twisted obsessions, under the weight of these successive and completely uncontrollable shocks, become so light and laughable, and so...empty and tedious.
The wind continued to blow, carrying away the smoke of battle, but it could not take away the deep sorrow, shock, and faint hope brought by those outside the world that permeated the hearts of the survivors.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com