Chapter 87: Chapter 87: Distance
The wide open courtyard of the Conferred Pagoda's inner sanctum was a masterpiece of architectural precision, designed to capture the maximum amount of spiritual essence from the surrounding mountain peaks.
However, as Shen Haoran sat under the intricate eaves of a sandalwood pavilion, he found no comfort in the setting.
He sat with his spine perfectly straight, the black silk of his robes absorbing the afternoon light.
He raised a delicate jade cup to his lips, took a single sip of the premium spirit tea, and then set it down with a click that sounded overly loud in the heavy silence.
Then, after a long while, he let out a long, weary sigh, his golden-blonde hair shimmering as he tilted his head back.
"The air here is truly too disgusting to breathe," Haoran murmured, his voice laced with a refined sort of revulsion. "It is thick with the dregs of ancient wars and the decay of unrefined spirits. Even the Eastern Region, for all its desolation, had a certain raw purity. This place... it feels like inhaling the smoke of a burning tire."
Qing'er, standing like a carved statue of obsidian behind his right shoulder, gave a slight, imperceptible nod.
For a peak Profound Saint, her senses were infinitely more attuned to the environment than any mortal in this realm.
To her, the air was a physical weight, a slurry of impurities and "dirty" Qi that gunked up the spiritual pores.
She found herself genuinely wondering how the inhabitants of this realm could endure living in such a world.
To them, this place might be the pinnacle of holy land, but to her, it was a suffocating tomb.
"Still," Haoran said, a small, playful smile playing on his lips as he looked at the stacks of parchment and jade slips piled on the stone table, "this world is rather interesting in its misery."
It had always been Haoran's habit to meticulously gather information about any local territory he visited.
After all, knowledge was not just power, but it was also the foundation of control.
Whether it was the high-court politics of the Imperial Capital or the backwater customs of a minor kingdom in the Eastern Region, he refused to be ignorant of the board he was playing on.
It didn't matter how backward or weak a place was; an unknown variable was a vulnerability he would not tolerate.
And from the intelligence he had sifted through since his arrival, he knew that the Saint Burial Realm was a fractured world divided into five main continents.
The continent where the Conferred Pagoda reigned was known as the Divine Continent—a bit of an overstatement in Haoran's opinion, though it was undeniably the strongest in this world.
These continents were separated by an endless, turbulent sea that spanned hundreds of light-years.
And to bridge this gap, the ancient powers had set up a rudimentary spatial transportation system of portals that connects the five continent.
According to the information, these portals were made from the remains, bones of ancient experts.
If Shen Haoran were to guess, then these bones were likely from ancient saints, after all, only experts of their level can actually play around with space.
Ofcurse, traveling by sea was possible, but it was a journey that can take hundreds of years, not to mention the sea was fraught with "Unknown" beasts—remnants of the Saint War that had mutated in the deep abyss.
Just as he was about to reach for a specific slip regarding the Conferred Pagoda history, he felt two presences approaching.
He didn't need to look up to know it was the two women who had piqued his interest when he first arrive in this realm.
They moved with a mix of practiced grace and obvious trepidation.
Once they stood just outside the shade of the pavilion, they stopped and cupped their hands in a gesture of deep respect, their heads bowed.
"Young Master, apologies for disturbing your rest," said Shangguan Mu'er.
Her bluish-silver hair was tied back, and her white robes were immaculate, yet she couldn't hide the slight tremor in her hands.
Shen Haoran smiled, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. It was a social lubricant, nothing more. "No worries. The afternoon was becoming a bit monotonous. Come, sit down."
The two women hesitated.
For a Nascent Soul expert like Mu'er and a rising star like Luochen, being invited to sit at the same table as a "God from the Upper Realm" was an honor that carried its own weight of pressure.
But still, after a few seconds of thought, they followed his words, sitting on the edge of the stone stools as if they expected the air to ignite.
"So? To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Haoran asked, picking up his cup again but not drinking.
Shangguan Mu'er shook her head quickly. "Young Master is joking. It is our absolute pleasure and duty to attend to you. We do not deserve the word 'pleasure' in your presence."
Haoran simply chuckled, leeting out a low, melodic sound that seemed to hum through the pavilion.
He didn't bother to correct her; the hierarchy was a reality that couldn't be changed no matter how polite he acted.
Seeing that he wasn't going to lead the conversation, Shangguan Mu'er turned serious, her Bluish-silver eyes locking onto his. "Young Master, my disciple here believes that she has information regarding the specific person you are searching for. The one named Jiang Chen."
"Oh?" Haoran turned his gaze toward Ling Luochen. The shift was subtle, but to Luochen, it felt like a spotlight of pure gold had been turned on her soul. "Is that so? Tell me what you know."
Ling Luochen took a deep breath, her blood-red eyes reflecting a mix of ambition and lingering spite. "Indeed, Young Master. My... former fiancé, his name is Jiang Chen. He lives in Fragrant Flower City, a small city located in a minor kingdom on the Southern Continent—the smallest and most resource-poor continent in this realm. He is a notorious wastrel, a man who is already twenty two years but someone who only managed to reach the 7th stage of the Body Refining realm by gorging himself on low-grade pills and herbs. He has no talent, no drive, and was a stain on his Clan's reputation."
"Oh?" Haoran's interest was officially piqued.
These details were almost too perfect. A "trash" young master in a backwater city on the smallest continent?
It was the classic setup for a reincarnation or a system-awakening, or even a regression!
There was no doubt in his mind now. This was the man.
Even if, by some astronomical chance, it wasn't his father, this "Jiang Chen" was clearly a Protagonist in the making, and Haoran made it a point to prune such weeds before they could grow to challenge his mother's garden.
"That is indeed very useful information, Miss Ling Luochen," Haoran said.
Ling Luochen blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She wondered for a fleeting second how he knew her name—she hadn't introduced herself yet—but she quickly dismissed it as the omniscience of a higher being.
Well, it wasn't really omniscience. But Haoran was quite a talented Seer, so if he wanted to, he can know her name if he just used his skills.
But that's not the reason why he knew her name, he just like to gather information.
"If it turns out to be true," Haoran continued, his voice dropping into a smooth, enticing tone, "then both you and your master... I can offer you a reward beyond spirit stones. I can directly bring you both to the Upper Realm when I depart. I will provide you with a place in my clan."
Shangguan Mu'er and Ling Luochen both visibly trembled.
It wasn't out of fear, but it was the raw, unadulterated electricity of excitement.
They had both spent their lives pursuing the peak of the Saint Burial Realm, knowing all along that they were just big fish in a very small, very shallow pond.
To be offered a path to the Upper Realm was like being offered a chance to become a true immortal.
"Alright then," Haoran said, standing up with a fluid motion, his black and gold robes billowed slightly, though there was no wind. "Ling Luochen, you will come with me and lead the way. You know the geography of this Southern Continent better than my charts. And you, Shangguan Mu'er, stay here. Inform the Pagoda Head that I am leaving to explore the world. I don't want any 'farewell' processions or guards following us. My presence is enough."
Shangguan Mu'er cupped her hands, bowing deeply. "As you wish, Young Master. The Pagoda will remain silent and await your triumphant return."
Shen Haoran gave a short nod to Qing'er before turning his golden eyes back to Ling Luochen.
The girl stood up, her red eyes burning with a new purpose, after all, at this moment, she was no longer just a disciple of the Pagoda, but was now the guide for a god.
"Let us go," Haoran said. "I wish to see this 'trash' for myself."
Qinq'er waved her hand, and instantly, under the stunned and shocked eyes of Shangguan Mu'er and Ling Luochen, a spatial tear appeared in front of them.
Without hesitation, Haoran entered first.
Qinq'er stared at Ling Luochen, her brow raised.
Ling Luochen immediately followed after him before Qinq'er nodded at Shangguan Mu'er and entered the tear in space, closing it after.
As they inside this spatial tear, the air around Haoran seemed to hum with anticipation.
The hunt had begun, and thousands of light years away, the "reincarnated" Jiang Chen had no idea that his son he had never even know existed was already closing the distance, guided by the very woman who had broken his heart.
Chapter 88: Chapter 88: Arrival
The sky over Fragrant Flower City was a stagnant tapestry of bruised purples and sickly greys, a characteristic of the Southern Region's decaying atmosphere.
Suddenly, the clouds rippled like water as a solidified spatial platform, shimmering with a dark, crystalline luster, emerged from the void.
Shen Haoran, Qinq'er, and Ling Luochen stepped into the spatial platform.
"So this is the place," Shen Haoran murmured, his voice cutting through the thin air with the sharpness of a cold blade.
He stood at the edge of the platform, his golden-blonde hair catching what little light filtered through the haze.
His black robes, embroidered with those restless golden dragons, fluttered slightly as he stared down at the sprawling, dusty city below.
Behind him, Qing'er stood like an unmoving shadow, her red eyes devoid of emotion as she maintained the structural integrity of the spatial platform.
A step further back, Ling Luochen felt stared at the platform in fear and awe.
She wondered just how powerful someone need to be to be able to manipulate space like this.
A legendary Spirit Ascension Realm? Or maybe... someone far above it?
As someone born from the lower realm, her knowledge of Cultivation stops at Spirit Ascension realm, the pinnacle of Cultivation where one can ascend to the upper realms.
Shen Haoran rubbed his chin in thought, his golden eyes scanning the architecture and the flow of people in the streets far below.
Fragrant Flower City... small, isolated, resource-poor, and filled with people whose horizons end at the city walls.
This place certainly matches a protagonist template perfectly. It is the ideal breeding ground for someone to rise from the ashes.
"Let's go down," Haoran commanded.
Without a word, Qing'er willed the platform to descend.
They didn't use a slow, graceful landing, and instead, they dropped straight into the heart of the city's central plaza like a descending star.
The impact of their arrival was instantaneous, as everyone immediately retreated and stared at them in fear.
In the Saint Burial Realm, flight was a luxury reserved for the absolute peak of experts, and even then, they required specialized spiritual tools or ancient techniques to sustain themselves in the air.
Seeing three figures descending from the heavens on a platform of solidified space caused the bustling marketplace to grind to a sudden, terrified halt.
People shrieked and scrambled backward, creating a wide, empty circle around the landing site.
As the spatial shimmer faded and the three figures stepped onto the cobblestones, the whispers began.
"Look! Isn't that the young miss of the Ling Clan?"
"It is! Ling Luochen! The number one genius!"
"The one who was taken as a disciple by the Conferred Pagoda elders... she's back!"
However, as Ling Luochen looked around, expecting the usual gazes of envy and worship, she found something else entirely.
The townspeople's gazes were weird—flickering with a mixture of pity, mockery, and a deep-seated, trembling fear.
Ling Luochen's blood-red eyes narrowed, and her brow furrowed in a deep frown as the tribal tattoo on her back seemed to pulse with her rising irritation.
She took a step forward, her aura as a Foundation Establishment cultivator flaring out, causing the nearby civilians to stumble.
She then pointed a slender finger at a middle-aged merchant who was trying to hide behind a crate of wilted spirit-grass.
"Hey, you," she barked, her voice echoing with the authority a superior. "Tell me what is happening in this city. Why are all of you looking at me like that? Where is the respect you owe your betters?"
Haoran stared at her and nodded to himself. This arrogance... this girl is surely a villain in Jiang Chen's story.
The merchant shrieked in fear, dropping to his knees, his teeth chattered so loudly they could be heard in the silence of the plaza.
He managed to stammer out his words, his eyes darting toward the towering figure of Haoran and then back to Luochen.
"Y-Young miss! P-Please, have mercy! I-It's because... it's because the Jiang Clan! Ever since you left, they... they produced a far more superior pill! A miracle medicine! They have completely suppressed the Ling Clan's market share! Right now, the Ling Clan's shops are empty, their debts are mounting, and they are already on the verge of bankruptcy! People say the Ling Clan's glory was just a fleeting dream!"
"What!?" Ling Luochen's eyes widened, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
How is that possible? Those pill recipes were created by the best alchemists in the Conferred Pagoda! They were gifts from the Divine Continent!
Her mind began to race. She knew the quality of the Pagoda's medicine, and not to mention the alchemists in this backwater Southern Continent, even alchemist in Divine Continent would struggle to identify the ingredients, let alone recreate or improve upon the recipes.
The idea that the Jiang Clan—a family led by a man with mediocre talent and a "trash" son—could produce anything better was an affront to logic.
Ling Luochen turned toward Shen Haoran, her face pale as the ambition that had been burning in her was suddenly tempered by a cold dread.
If her clan fell, her standing would be affected, and more importantly, she would look incompetent in front of the Young Master. "Young master... is it... is it possible for me to see my clan first? I need to understand what has happened."
Haoran, who had been listening to the merchant with a faint, amused smirk, nodded gracefully.
He adjusted his sleeves, his interest in this "Jiang Chen" growing by the second. "The fall of a local power is always an entertaining prologue. We'll follow you."
With that, the three of them walked hurriedly through the streets.
The crowd parted before them like the Red Sea, though the whispers followed them like a trail of smoke.
*
*
*
At this very moment, within the walls of the Ling Clan manor, the atmosphere was anything but celebratory.
Ling Hongchen, the Patriarch of the Ling Clan and father of Luochen, roared in fury as he slammed his fist down on his heavy mahogany desk, which disintegrated into a cloud of splinters and fine powder under the force of his Qi.
He stood there, chest heaving, staring at the three alchemists who stood before him, their heads hung low in shame.
"You can't make it!? You can't make it!?" Ling Hongchen screamed, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. "I gave you the examples! The recipes are all there! All you need to do is throw the ingredients in a cauldron and follow the instructions! A trained monkey could do it!"
One of the alchemists, an elderly man with a scorched beard, fearfully shook his head. "Sir, we tried! We have spent forty-eight hours straight at the furnaces! But it's impossible! The materials Jiang Chen is using... they are common weeds! They have little to no spirit Qi! The laws of alchemy dictate that such things cannot be refined into high-grade pills! They simply burn the instant they touch the heat of the cauldron! There is no essence to extract!"
"And yet, Jiang Chen, that trash, was able to make it!" Ling Hongchen bellowed, grabbing the alchemist by his collar and lifting him off the ground. "His Dragon-Tiger Blood Nourishing Pill is being sold for ten spirit stones and has the purity of a Heaven-grade medicine! He is making them by the hundreds! Why can't you!?"
The alchemist's voice trembled. "Sorry sir... but we're... we're not Jiang Chen. There is something... something fundamentally wrong with how he manipulates the fire. What he is doing is alchemically impossible!"
"So you are saying you are worse than trash!?" Ling Hongchen roared, flinging the man across the room.
The alchemist hit the wall with a dull thud and slumped to the floor.
The other two alchemists remained silent, staring at their boots.
They were the best the Ling Clan could hire, but in the face of the miracles coming out of the Jiang manor, they felt like children playing with mud.
"You bunch of useless trash! What am I paying you for!? The Jiangs have already seized our three largest medicine halls! Do you have any idea how much losses we have incurred today alone? If this continues for another week, we won't even be able to pay the servants!" Ling Hongchen exclaimed, his hands trembling with a mix of rage and impotence.
He rubbed his temple, before sitting back on his seat.
Just then, the heavy doors to the study burst open and a young servant rushed in, panting heavily, his face flushed with exertion.
Ling Hongchen spun around, his eyes blazing with murderous intent. "You! How dare you come in without permission!? Don't the senior servants teach you manners and etiquette anymore? I should have your head for this!"
"Apologies, Patriarch! Please, forgive me!" The servant exclaimed, dropping to his knees and gasping for air. "But... but the Young Miss! The Young Miss is back! She was seen landing in the plaza with two strangers! She is at the gates right now!"
The rage evaporated from Ling Hongchen's face, replaced by a surge of pure, ecstatic joy.
He stood up so quickly his chair tumbled backward. "Really!? Luochen is back? Ha! Heaven has not abandoned the Ling Clan!"
He turned glared at the servant, "What are you waiting for!? Go and prepare a welcoming ceremony! Call the elders! Open the main gates! My daughter has returned from the Pagoda!"
"Yes, Patriarch!" The servant bowed frantically before scurrying out to spread the word.
Ling Hongchen stared at the alchemists one last time, a cruel glint returning to his eyes. "You got lucky. Luochen is here, and she surely has the backing of the Elders. You better pray that Luochen has a solution to this Jiang Chen problem, otherwise..."
He didn't finish his threat as he swept out of the room, his long robes snapping behind him as he hurried toward the front courtyard.
The alchemist with the scorched beard waited until the Patriarch's footsteps had completely faded into the distance.
He let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"The Young Miss is back," one of the younger alchemists whispered. "But can even she stop someone who can turn grass into gold?"
The old alchemist looked at the charred remains of the cauldron in the corner. "I don't know. But if Jiang Chen has truly changed as the rumors say... then Fragrant Flower City is about to become a very dangerous place for the Lings."
Chapter 89: Chapter 89: 'Father' and 'Son'
The heavy mahogany doors of the Ling Clan's central reception hall swung open with a resounding thud, revealing the grandeur of a family that had, until very recently, held the city in its palm.
Ling Hongchen stepped through the threshold, his face instantly transforming from the mask of a harried, desperate businessman to that of a doting, proud father.
The sight of his daughter sitting within the hall acted like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.
"Luochen!" Ling Hongchen exclaimed, his voice booming with a mixture of relief and genuine joy as he hurried toward the seating area, his eyes bright. "I thought you were busy in the Pagoda's inner peaks. Your return is like a rainstorm in the middle of a drought!"
Ling Luochen stood up, her robe rustling as she looked at her father, yet her blood-red eyes, however, did not hold the same warmth; they were sharp with the realization of the crisis her family faced.
"Father, it is a good thing the heavens saw fit to bring me back at this exact moment. Otherwise, I fear that by the time I returned for the annual festival, I would have found the Ling name erased from the gates of Fragrant Flower City."
Ling Hongchen's smile faltered, replaced by a heavy, weary sigh as he slumped into the head chair, the weight of the past few days visibly crushing his shoulders.
"Indeed. I never knew that the trash Jiang Chen was actually a hidden genius of the alchemical arts. The rumors say he was secretly accepted as a disciple by a Rank 5 Alchemist who passed through the city by chance. To turn common weeds into pills that rival the Pagoda's supply... it is a nightmare I cannot wake up from."
Just then, a voice, calm and crystalline like the ringing of a silver bell, cut through the somber atmosphere.
"Patriarch Ling, can you show me the pills that the Jiang Clan has been producing?"
Ling Hongchen jumped slightly, his gaze snapping to the young man sitting beside his daughter.
He had been so focused on Luochen that he had only seen the guests as blurred shapes in the background.
Now, as he took in the golden-blonde hair, the black robes with the restless golden dragons, and the sheer, overwhelming presence of the youth, he felt a cold sweat prickle his neck.
"This guest is...?" Ling Hongchen asked, his voice wavering as he turned to his daughter for an explanation.
"A distinguished guest of the Pagoda, Father," Ling Luochen said, her tone carrying a warning of absolute reverence. "Do not ask questions beyond your station. Just show him the pills."
Ling Hongchen was startled into a momentary silence.
A "distinguished guest" of the Pagoda? In his mind, the Conferred Pagoda was the sovereign of the Saint Burial Realm.
For them to treat a youth as a "distinguished guest" implied a status so high it was beyond his comprehension.
Was he a prince of an ancient powerful empire?
A descendant of a Divine Sect?
He didn't dare speculate further; he was a small figure in a vast world, and he knew when to bow.
"O-Oh, alright. Of course," Ling Hongchen stammered.
He reached into his storage ring and pulled out two jade bottles, their surfaces etched with the sigil of the Jiang Clan.
He handed them to Luochen, who in turn presented them to Haoran with a slight bow.
"These are the pills that have paralyzed our markets, Young Master." Said Ling Hongchen.
Shen Haoran took the bottles and simply twirled them between his slender fingers, before flicking the cap open with his thumb.
Almost immediately, a faint, sharp aroma filled the hall—a scent of iron, crushed petals, and a very specific, high-frequency spiritual resonance.
He inhaled deeply and then let out a sharp, mocking smirk.
"These are the Dragon-Tiger Blood Nourishing Pill and the Silver Spirit Pill," Haoran said, his voice dripping with an amusement that chilled the room.
This confirmed it beyond a shadow of a doubt, this was truly the Jiang Chen he had crossed worlds to find.
After all, these two specific pill recipes were actually invented by a master alchemist of the Shen Clan centuries ago during his early training years.
Because they were "starter" recipes for a high-level clan, they used seemingly mundane materials to achieve maximum efficiency.
Aside from the inner circle of the Shen Clan, no one in the Prime Origin Realm, let alone this lower world, should know the precise ratios and fire-temperatures required to refine them.
That "Jiang Chen" had likely come across these pill recipes when he was still a husband candidate—or rather, a victim—staying within the Shen Clan domain in his previous life.
"Young Master Shen, you know these pills?" Ling Luochen asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
Before Haoran could answer, the peace of the hall was shattered.
The heavy doors were burst open by a servant who was so panicked he practically slid across the floor on his knees, his face white with terror.
Ling Hongchen's cheek twitched in pure, unadulterated annoyance. "You! This is the second time a servant has dared to intrude unannounced! Have you all forgotten the laws of this house!?"
"Apologies, Patriarch! Young Miss!" the servant shrieked, gasping for air. "But the Jiang Clan... they are at our gates! They have brought their entire martial force! They are shouting in the streets... they are demanding that we sell all our properties and pharmacies to them by sundown, or they will 'cleanse' the street!"
"What!? Those upstarts! Those vultures!" Ling Hongchen screamed, his Qi erupting in a violent, unstable flare that shattered a nearby vase. "The Jiang Clan truly thinks they can trample the Ling name just because they sold a few bottles of medicine!?"
Shen Haoran, however, didn't look angry at the interruption, and instead slowly stood up, the golden dragons on his robe seeming to ripple in the torchlight as a dark, amused smirk played on his lips as he looked toward the courtyard.
'Well, would you look at that,' Haoran thought, his eyes shimmering with a cold light. 'the rabbit has actually decided to jump directly into a lion's mouth. Well, this saves me the trouble of a hunt.'
"Let me see," Haoran said aloud.
He didn't wait for permission; he simply walked toward the exit, his steps light and silent.
Qing'er followed him like a shadow, her red eyes already scanning the perimeter for threats.
Ling Luochen and a fuming Ling Hongchen followed behind them, their faces set in grim masks of determination.
*
*
*
At the gates of Ling Clan.
Standing at the head of a hundred Jiang Clan members was a young man with a posture that was far too composed for a twenty-two-year-old wastrel.
It was Jiang Chen, and he stood there, his arms crossed, a smirk of absolute, arrogant confidence on his face, looking like a king inspecting a conquered village.
"What do you want, Jiang Clan!?" An elder of the Ling clan roared from the top of the stairs, his voice amplified by his Qi. "Don't think that just because you've filled your coffers with a bit of gold you can come here and demand the heritage of the Lings! You are overstepping your bounds!"
"That's right!" another Ling elder shouted from behind. "Our Young Miss is a disciple of the Conferred Pagoda! One word from her and your clan will be ash!"
Jiang Chen threw his head back and laughed—a boisterous, mocking sound that echoed off the surrounding buildings.
"Hahaha! Ling Clan, spare me the lecture! When the Jiangs were struggling under your price-gouging, did any of you think of 'sparing' us? You broke the engagement to climb a higher branch, and now you want to hide behind the Pagoda's skirt? If you've got any guts, call out your 'genius' daughter now and let her see what a real master looks like!"
"Truly arrogant!"
Ling Luochen stepped forward, her bluish-pink hair fluttering in the wind, her cold, blood-red glare focused on Jiang Chen with the intensity of a laser.
Behind her, Ling Hongchen, Shen Haoran and Qinq'er stood quietly.
"A trash who hasn't even broken through to the Qi Gathering Realm yet... how dare you make a fuss at my father's gate? Do you truly believe your parlor tricks with a cauldron make you an immortal?"
Jiang Chen stared at her, his eyes lacking any of the old infatuation she was used to, and instead, they were filled with a terrifying, indifferent boredom. "Hah! Just someone who relies on her master's name! Before the Pagoda took you in, wasn't your Ling Clan clinging to our thighs for scraps? You are a swallow who thinks she's a phoenix because she flew to a higher roof."
"You—!" Ling Luochen's Qi flared, her hand moving toward the hilt of her sword.
Just then, she felt a cool, steady hand pat her shoulder.
The touch was light, but it contained a pressure that instantly grounded her frantic Qi.
She looked up and saw Shen Haoran stepping past her.
"Young Master?" Luochen whispered, confused.
Shen Haoran walked towards the gates, his height towering over Jiang Chen who stood outside, making him look down at Jiang Chen.
"And who are you?" Jiang Chen smirked arrogantly, "Are you a pursuer of that bitch? Heh, go on. Enjoy my sloppy seconds."
"Bastard!" Ling Luochen gritted her teeth in anger. This trash was actually trying to ruin her reputation with the young master!
Shen Haoran remained silent.
He didn't look angry at all, in fact, he looked delighted, as if he had just found a particularly interesting insect in a jar.
He stared at the "young master" of the Jiang Clan and let out a soft, melodic laugh.
"An old monster, nearly a thousand years old, arguing with a child in the middle of a dusty street," Haoran said, his voice carrying a strange, haunting resonance that seemed to bypass the ears and strike the soul. "Tell me... how low have you fallen, Peerless Sword Venerable?"
The world seemed to stop.
The smirk on Jiang Chen's instantly faded, his body went rigid, and his pupils shrunk to pinpricks.
The air around him grew heavy, his Body Refining aura flickering as if a much larger, darker soul was trying to burst through the seams of his flesh.
That was his title in the Prime Origin Realm—a title that no one in this backwater realm should've known.
A title that should have been buried with his previous life.
Jiang Chen stared at the golden-blonde youth, his heart hammering with a sudden, icy dread. "You... who are you!? How do you know that name!?"
Haoran didn't answer, instead, he simply tilted his head, his golden eyes glowing with a predatory light.
"Who am I doesn't matter. What matters is that, you have to die."
Chapter 90: Chapter 90: Infinity and Void
The dusty street in front of the Ling Clan manor, which had moments ago been a stage for a petty regional rivalry, was suddenly plunged into a vacuum of absolute, suffocating terror.
The air itself seemed to curdle as Shen Haoran's gaze locked onto the man who had once been a legend in the Upper Realms.
Without wasting another second, before the sound of his own voice had even finished echoing against the stone walls, Haoran moved.
To the observers, he vanished and reappeared in a single frame of reality.
Then, he reached out with a hand that felt like cold iron, grabbed Jiang Chen's face with a grip that threatened to shatter his skull, and slammed him into the ground.
The impact was deafening.
The heavy cobblestones of Fragrant Flower City, reinforced by centuries of minor earth-qi, splintered like brittle glass.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward, reaching the feet of the horrified bystanders.
Then, with a chilling lack of emotion, Haoran raised his silk-booted foot and stepped directly onto Jiang Chen's face, pinning the "Peerless Sword Venerable" to the dirt like a common insect.
The whole sequence hadn't even lasted a second.
The Jiang Clan members, who had been standing tall and arrogant behind their young master, froze in a collective state of cognitive dissonance.
One moment their leader was like a king; the next, he was a rug.
"Y-Young Master!"
"Bastard! Let go of the Young Master!"
The spell of shock broke, then driven by a mix of clan loyalty and the desperate knowledge that their livelihood died with Jiang Chen, dozens of Jiang Clan warriors drew their weapons.
With a chorus of enraged roars, they rushed toward Haoran, their Qi flaring in a chaotic, multicolored mess of Body Refining and Qi Gathering techniques.
Shen Haoran didn't even turn his head to look at them, as a thin, cold smirk played on his lips.
He simply waved his hand casually, as if cutting through a bothersome curtain of silk.
Immediately, the world went silent.
The charging warriors stopped mid-stride.
And for a heartbeat, they looked like statues. Then, a thin, red line appeared across the midsections of every single man in the front three rows.
Their bodies began to slide, their upper and lower halves separating with sickening, wet sounds.
Blood erupted in a synchronized spray, geysering into the air with such pressure that it actually began to rain down upon the street in a warm, copper-scented deluge.
The Ling Clan members, watching from the safety of the stairs, took a collective step back, their faces drained of all color.
Ling Hongchen even fell to his knees, his breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps as he stared at the carnage.
Ling Luochen, meanwhile, simply stared at him fascination, completely unaffected by the blood and corpses.
After all, having cultivated the Asura Descent Technique, the souls of humans was a necessity for her to breakthrough.
She had already slaughtered an entire village and absorbed their souls, a requirement to start Cultivating this technique.
Right now, she was simply in awe at Shen Haoran's strength, and wondered when would she have that kind of power.
On the other hand, the bystanders, the commoners who had gathered for the "show," shrieked in a high-pitched discordant chorus.
Many turned and fled into the alleys, while others simply collapsed and puked on the spot, the scent of fresh entrails and ozone overwhelming their senses.
"Bastard! Just who are you!?" Jiang Chen's muffled roar came from beneath Haoran's boot as he clawed at his legs, yet his fingers couldn't even tickle Haoran. "How do you know that name! Why do you want to kill me!?"
"Like I said, you don't need to know that," Haoran replied, his voice a calm contrast to the screaming and the blood.
He reached into his storage ring, and with a ripple of black and violet light, he summoned his sword—Azathoth.
The blade was a sliver of concentrated darkness that seemed to drink the light of the sun.
"All you need to know is that your second chance at life was a mistake. And I am here to correct that."
At that moment, as if responding to the danger of the chosen one, the clear sky of the Saint Burial Realm began to churn as heavy, charcoal clouds swirled into a vortex directly above the city, and the low, guttural roar of thunder began to shake the earth.
"No! I will not die yet!" Jiang Chen roared, his voice cracking with the strain of a soul trying to force a weak body to perform miracles. "I have just returned! I still have to take revenge on those three witches! I will still stand above the heavens and make them pay for every drop of my blood!"
He struggled with a manic strength, his muscles bulging as he tried to shift Haoran's foot.
Yet, no matter what he did, he remained completely powerless. Not to mention getting up, he couldn't even move make Haoran move an inch.
"Stand above the heavens?" Haoran looked down, his eyes filled with a profound, clinical disdain. "Jiang Chen, you can't even stand before me. How dare you speak those words when you can't even move my foot from your face."
Haoran moved his foot from his face to his chest. He then raised Azathoth, the tip of the blade pointing directly at Jiang Chen's throat. "Die with your delusions."
He struck down.
"NOOOOO!" Jiang Chen let out a final, desperate scream as the dark blade descended.
But then, as if the heavens themselves were intervening to protect a favored child, his body erupted with a violent, dark purple light as a shockwave of pure, unadulterated Void-energy exploded outward.
Shen Haoran was forced to raise his arm to cover his face as he was blown back several meters.
He skidded across the broken cobblestones, his boots carving deep grooves into the street before he stabilized himself.
Then, he looked up, his golden eyes widening in genuine surprise.
"That is..." Haoran muttered, a sharp glint of interest returning to his gaze. "The Formless Void Divine Physique? This man actually possesses such a divine body in this decrepit world?"
As one of the supreme physiques born at the very dawn of creation, the Formless Void was a legend for its absolute defense and spatial manipulation.
It was a power that required immense talent and luck to cultivate.
But from what he had observed, Jiang Chen's current body was a disaster—diluted by excessive drugs, weakened by debauchery, and devoid of even a shred of proper foundation.
Not to mention Cultivating it, even awakening it would be even harder than what he went through when he was trying to awaken his own physique!
'...What the hell.'
It was at this moment that Shen Haoran finally realised just how utterly biased the heavens is towards these chosen ones, something he had completely ignored before.
On the verge of death, this Jiang Chen not only awakened his divine Physique, but also cultivated it to Minor Completion!
Just then, as the purple light died down, Jiang Chen stood up, and at this moment, he was no longer the weak young master anymore.
Now, he was wreathed in a flickering, ethereal purple aura that seemed to swallow the shadows around him.
He wiped the blood from his mouth and laughed, a cold, arrogant sound.
"Hahaha! I said it, didn't I? I will not die! My destiny is written in the stars! I will rise above others and become a supreme! Ruling over the heavens and earth!"
"Supreme?" Shen Haoran stared at him for a long moment, then slowly shook his head, his expression one of pity. "Jiang Chen, how low have you truly fallen? You dream of becoming a 'Supreme'? Since the dawn of time, there have been countless Supremes. They are born and they die in the blink of a celestial eye. To become a Supreme is merely to become one of many—to be a slightly larger fish in the same stagnant pond. For you to dream of something so... mediocre. It seems the rumors of your past glory were greatly exaggerated."
Jiang Chen snorted, his purple aura flared with his anger. "You are from the Upper Realm, right? Did the Shen Clan send a little dog like you to finish what they started? Hehe, those three bitches really are afraid of me, aren't they? They can't even sleep without worrying I'll come back to have my revenge and destroy them!"
"Who knows." Haoran smirked.
Jiang Chen gritted his teeth as he pointed a trembling finger at Haoran, his voice rising to a shriek. "You dog of the Shen Clan! You and your entire bloodline are an abomination! Sooner or later, you will be judged! You will suffer the wrath of the heavens for your evil deeds!"
Shen Haoran stared at him for a long while before he shrugged, his posture relaxing into a state of terrifying calm as he held Azathoth to the side, the dark blade humming. "The Heavens can judge me... when they prove that they are worthy to sit in my presence. Until then, they are just the roof over my head."
"You—!"
"Now, enough talk," Haoran said, his smirk returning, sharper than before as he felt the Infinity Dragon God Physique within his own body beginning to resonate, his blood boiling with the prospect of a true battle. "This is my first time facing another genuine Divine Physique in a life-or-death struggle. I find it... exhilarating. Let us see if your 'Void' can survive the 'Infinity'!"
Chapter 91: Chapter 91: Your Weapon
At this moment, the sky over Fragrant Flower City was no longer a natural canopy, but had transformed into a churning vortex of bruised purples and charcoal greys, lit by the loud, erratic pulsing of violet lightning.
The roar of the thunder that followed was not like a sound but a physical vibration that rattled the teeth of every living soul within the city walls.
"Heh. Hahaha!" Shen Haoran let out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut through the distance and moved like a streak of golden light, his blade Azathoth whistling through the air as he delivered a flurry of strikes against Jiang Chen.
The "Peerless Sword Venerable" could only cross his arms and endure the onslaught.
It was a pathetic sight, truly.
Jiang Chen, despite his ancient soul, was trapped in a body that was still only at the Body Refining Realm.
He possessed no Qi to manifest techniques, no spiritual essence to form shields, and no cultivation base to counter-attack, he was like a living, breathing, glorified punching bag.
However, the luck of an Anomaly was truly a terrifying thing, as although his Formless Void Divine Physique was only at Minor Completion—rendering him not yet immune to all laws—it acted as an absolute fortress of the flesh.
It amplified his physical durability to a monstrous degree, allowing his skin to become as hard as celestial ore as he took blow after blow that would have turned a normal cultivator into a red mist, enduring the spiritual force of a Golden Core expert with nothing but gritted teeth and bloodied lips.
"Jiang Chen! Where is that pride you spoke of earlier?" Haoran taunted, his voice amplified by the wind. "Where is the man who said he would stand above the heavens? Where is the genius who promised to become Supreme? What a joke! Look at you now! You are nothing but a sandbag for my amusement!"
Then, with a sudden, explosive movement, Shen Haoran delivered a mid-air kick directly to Jiang Chen's solar plexus.
The force was so great it sent Jiang Chen hurtling through the air like a cannonball, his body smashing through two stone buildings before he could even blink.
Before Jiang Chen could even settle in the debris, Shen Haoran appeared in the air above him, descending like a falling star and slammed his heel into Jiang Chen's chest, pinning him back into the cratered earth.
The ground groaned and buckled, a shockwave of dust and rubble erupting outward.
"Come on! Get up!" Haoran sneered, leaning down to stare into Jiang Chen's eyes. "Aren't you very arrogant just now? Was all that talk about standing above heavens just the barking of a dying dog?"
Jiang Chen spat out a mouthful of blood, his purple aura flickering but not fading as he stared up at Haoran with a gaze filled with venomous spite. "You... you coward! You can only rely on your superior Cultivation! If we were in the same realm, I would have already cut your head off! Suppress your level to the same level as mine and then we shall see who is the true superior!"
Shen Haoran's lips curled into a reflexive grin. "Very w—"
He stopped abruptly as the word died in his throat, and his grin vanished as if wiped away by an invisible hand.
A cold, logical clarity suddenly pierced through the adrenaline of the fight as he froze, his body going rigid.
'Was I about to agree just now?' he thought, his mind racing. 'No. That is completely illogical. Why would I ever give up my hard-earned advantage? Why would I lower my defenses against a man who wants to slaughter my entire clan, just because of a petty taunt?'
Could it be...?
It didn't take long for him to realized with a jolt of fury that his own mind had been subtly nudged, as if some external force had manipulated him.
And if he had to guess, it was done by the very Heavenly Dao that protected protagonists.
It was trying to force him into a classic trope of "fair play" that would allow the underdog to win.
His face twisted in raw, unadulterated anger as he raised his head toward the churning clouds, his golden eyes burning with a light that rivaled the lightning.
"You think this is funny!?" he roared at the sky. "How dare you mess with my mind!? How dare the Heavens try to dictate my actions!?"
He pointed Azathoth directly at the eye of the storm. "I walk the path of supremacy! I am the master of my own fate! Even the heavens cannot interfere with my will!"
He was done playing.
He was done testing the "protagonist template."
Without moments of hesitation, he reached into his storage ring and pulled out a small, unassuming jade knife.
It looked simple, but the air around it immediately warped and turned grey.
This was an artifact imbued with a sliver of sword intent from an ancient Supreme of the Shen Clan.
He glared at Jiang Chen. It didn't matter how powerful the Formless Void Divine Physique was; at Minor Completion, it was still just a mortal construct.
The sword intent of a Supreme—a being who could slice through dimensions—would instantly erase Jiang Chen from the annals of existence, soul and all.
"Let's see how you can survive this!"
As Shen Haoran was about to channel his Qi into the knife to activate the killing blow, the sky let out a roar that sounded like a scream of celestial outrage.
Then, a bolt of violet lightning, thicker and more concentrated than any before, descended with impossible speed, aiming directly for Haoran's head.
In that fraction of a second, Qing'er, who had been standing at the edge of the battlefield like a silent sentinel, reacted.
With speed that defies logic, she reached out her hand and bent the very fabric of space, creating a spatial fold that snatched Haoran from his position and brought him ten meters back to her side.
The lightning struck the spot where Haoran had been standing an instant before.
The explosion of energy was blinding, but surprisingly, the grounded Jiang Chen, who was beneath Haoran, was actually completely unharmed.
In fact, the wounds on his body began to knit together, and his energy surged, his power breaking through to the peak of Qi Gathering Realm!
Jiang Chen stared at his hands, then up at the sky, then finally at Shen Haoran before he let out a loud, hysterical laughter that echoed through the ruined street.
"Hahahaha! It seems even the heavens don't want me to die! The world itself is on my side, you Shen dog! You cannot kill what the universe has ordained to live!"
Shen Haoran watched the laughing man, and for the first time in his life, he felt a heat in his chest that wasn't the resonance of his physique.
It was pure, unbridled anger.
He felt insulted.
The fact that the heavens were so blatantly cheating to protect this man was a slap in the face to his status, his pride, and his path.
It was as if the universe was mocking his failure to kill a trash so much weaker than him, causing his blood to boil, and his heartbeat sounding like a war drum in his ears.
He walked the path of supremacy; he was meant to be the one who looked down upon the world. How could he stand this humiliation?
"Qing'er," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that was more terrifying than a shout.
"Young Master," Qing'er answered, stepping into his shadow, her red eyes reflecting the violet storm.
"Can I ask you for something? This might be dangerous. In fact, you might end up crippled or even die," he asked, his gaze never leaving Jiang Chen.
Qing'er looked surprised for a fleeting moment, but her expression quickly settled into one of absolute, unwavering devotion. "Young Master, I am your shadow. My weapons are the darkness, and your weapon is me. My life, my cultivation, and my existence belong to you. Therefore, Young Master, please do not hesitate. Use me as you see fit."
Shen Haoran nodded, his hand gripping the hilt of Azathoth so hard the leather groaned. "Whatever happens... block those lightnings. I don't care if the sky falls. Hold it back for me. I don't believe that trash can escape from me."
"Understood."
Without another word, Qing'er ignited her Saint-realm cultivation as she flew upward, her black bodysuit blending with the dark clouds as she stood guard in the sky.
She raised her hands, and a massive, semi-transparent dome of solidified shadow began to expand over the battlefield, creating a localized "Forbidden Zone" where the heavens were barred.
Shen Haoran turned his gaze back to Jiang Chen, who was slowly standing up, his confidence renewed. "You really are as resilient as a demonic cockroach, aren't you?"
Jiang Chen chuckled, dusting off his robes. "Not really. It's just because the heavens are in my favor. I am the chosen one of this era, Shen dog. And you are just a hurdle for me to jump over."
"Not for long."
Haoran moved.
At that exact moment, the sky roared again, and three massive bolts of lightning struck the shadow dome.
Qing'er gritted her teeth, her form flickering as she absorbed the celestial backlash, causing the dome to groan and crack, but the dome successfully held back the lightnings.
Shen Haoran appeared in front of Jiang Chen in the blink of an eye, and this time, he didn't coat his sword in the golden light of his Qi.
Instead, a grey, silent mist began to cling to the blade.
It was Sword Intent—the raw, conceptual power of "Cutting."
He grinned, a dark and ruthless expression that promised only oblivion appearing on his face. "Can your physique endure a my intent to cut, Jiang Chen? Why don't we find out together?"
As the blade descended, the purple aura around Jiang Chen flared in terror.
Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Change
At this moment, thousands of cracking, violet lightning bolts rained down from the heavens in a rhythmic, frantic bombardment, striking the shadow dome created by Qing'er with the force of falling mountains.
Each impact sent a shockwave of thunder that threatened to shatter the eardrums of every living soul for miles.
High above, Qing'er's face was a mask of agony as she coughed up a spray of crimson blood that stood out sharply against the black of her bodysuit.
Yet, her red eyes burned with a terrifying, singular resolve as she gritted her teeth so hard they began to crack, forcing her Saint-realm cultivation to its absolute limit to maintain the barrier.
To her, every bolt of lightning was a hammer blow against her soul, but she was the shield of the Young Master, and a shield will protect its user until it is broken.
Down in the cratered street, Jiang Chen felt the first cold touch of true, final oblivion.
The arrogance that had fueled his "Peerless Sword Venerable" soul was gone, replaced by the primal instinct of a cornered animal.
The Formless Void aura around him, though at Minor Completion, flickered like a candle in a hurricane.
He scrambled backward, his heels dragging through the rubble, his eyes fixed on the grey, conceptual mist clinging to Haoran's blade.
He Sword Intent, unlike traditional qi or dao, it does not follow the rules of the cultivation system, but it's own set of rules.
The only thing that mattered in that rule is how strong your intent to cut is.
Even if he has this divine physique, once the sword intent touched him, he would have to say goodbye with his second life.
"Die, Jiang Chen." Shen Haoran whispered.
Without wasting another breath, he thrust Azathoth forward, and the sword moved with a silent, inevitable trajectory, cutting through the air and the very laws of the Saint Burial Realm.
But at the exact moment the dark tip was set to pierce Jiang Chen's throat, a blinding flash of gold erupted between them as a golden rope, glowing with the brilliance of a thousand suns and etched with ancient immortal runes, spiraled out of the void.
It whipped around the blade of Azathoth, tightening with a metallic screech that resonated with the frequency of a higher world.
The momentum of Haoran's strike was halted instantly, the shockwave of the sudden stop cracking the ground beneath his feet.
"What!?" Haoran's eyes widened.
"Fellow daoist, can you give this old man face and let him go?"
The world seemed to freeze.
Even the relentless lightning striking Qing'er's dome paused for a heartbeat, as if the heavens themselves were curious about the intruder.
Everyone's gaze shifted to the sky, a few distance away from Qing'er, and there stood an old man who looked like he had stepped out of an ancient scroll.
He was bald, with a white beard so long it reached his waist, wearing a pristine white robe that emitted a faint, holy fragrance.
He held the end of the golden rope with a hand that looked like weathered wood but possessed the strength of a tectonic plate.
Shen Haoran's eyes narrowed, his golden pupils contracting.
He sensed a profound, troublesome aura from the newcomer—an aura that didn't belong to the "trash" cultivators of the Saint Burial Realm.
And if he guessed it right, this old man was a Heavenly Saint Realm expert.
He pulled back on his sword, but the golden rope held firm.
"...Who are you?" Haoran asked, his voice dripping with icy disdain. "How dare you interfere in the personal business of the Shen Clan? Do you find your life too long?"
The old man stroked his beard, his expression one of calm, detached wisdom. "This old daoist is an elder from the Golden Cloud Immortal Sect of the High Heavens, and this young man is destined for our sect. I hope the Young Master would give me face, acknowledge the ties between our Great Sects, and let me take this young man."
Golden Cloud Immortal Sect is one of the Four Immortal Sects in the Imperial Capital, each one of them having produced an Immortal and have an immortal legacy.
Shen Haoran clicked his tongue in pure, unadulterated disdain. "So it's you. A mere elder from an immortal sect. How dare a servant like you make demands of me? I want this man dead, and nothing can stop me. Not to mention you—even if your Sect Master himself came here to beg me on his knees, I would not hesitate to spit in his face and tell him to get lost. You are nothing in the eyes of the Shen bloodline."
The old man's calm mask fractured for a moment, a flash of annoyance crossing his eyes. "Young Master Shen, although young people should be arrogant to forge their Dao, they must also know the immensity of heaven and earth. Overreaching will only lead to a shattered foundation."
"That's my line," Haoran retorted, his Qi beginning to boil. "The Saint Burial Realm is a vassal world under the administration of the Shen Clan. An elder from an outside force actually dares to descend here and interfere with a purge? Did you get permission from my aunt to descend here? Or does your Golden Cloud Immortal Sect wish to officially declare war on my clan? Because I assure you, my mother would love an excuse to paint your 'Golden Clouds' red."
The old man flinched, after all the threat of Chu Xueyu's name carrying a weight that could crush kingdoms.
She was recognised as the strongest Saint in the empire.
"...We will give the Shen Clan a formal explanation and apology through the proper channels later," he said, his voice tightening. "But this young man, Jiang Chen, is fated with our sect's ancestral heritage. I am determined to have him."
"I see. Then we shall see if you have the strength to take him from me!"
Shen Haoran didn't hesitate. Even if he knew that the old man was a Heavenly Saint, far beyond his current Golden Core cultivation, he still didn't hesitate to attack.
Because he is a Shen.
He reached into his storage and took out the knife—the artifact imbued with the Supreme's Sword Intent, then without a word of warning, he slashed it downward toward the grounded Jiang Chen.
"Stop!" the old man's eyes widened in horror.
He realized the nature of the power Haoran had just unleashed, and knew that not to mention Jiang Chen, even he cannot be sure to survive this attack.
He moved in a blur of golden light, appearing directly in front of Jiang Chen, casting his own immortal body as a shield.
The light of the sword intent was too intense for the mortal eye to perceive, and for a single, terrifying instant, the entire Southern Continent was dyed a blinding, sterile white.
The laws of space screamed as they were torn asunder.
When the light finally dissipated, the scene was one of gore and ruin.
The old man was still standing, but he was a mangled wreck. He had lost his entire left arm; the skin on his chest and face had been vaporized, leaving the white bone of his skull and ribs completely exposed to the air.
Blood poured from his wounds, smoking as it hit the ground.
Behind him, Jiang Chen lay unconscious. His clothes were singed and his skin was blackened by the heat, but miraculously, he was alive.
The old man had taken 99% of the strike onto his own Heavenly Saint foundation.
However, the aftermath was far worse.
The sword intent was still lingering, refusing to dissipate as massive, expanding cracks remained open in the air, and a bottomless abyss now ran through the center of Fragrant Flower City, cutting the town and the entire continent in half.
This continent, despite being the smallest in the Saint Burial Realm, was still the size of several solar systems—and it had been cleaved like an apple by a mere fragment of a Supreme's will.
Shen Haoran stood amidst the wreckage, breathing heavily, a cold smirk on his face. "Good job taking that on. You are at the Heavenly Saint realm, aren't you? Impressive. But tell me, old man... what would you do about a second one?"
Haoran reached into his robe and pulled out a second jade knife.
The old man's exposed eye widened in pure, unadulterated terror, but before Haoran could strike, the heavens themselves let out a final, decisive roar.
A bolt of dark gold lightning ripped through the sky.
This wasn't an aimless strike, it was a targeted attack by the heavenly dao to protect its "favored" son.
The bolt shattered Qing'er's shadow dome as if it were glass and it struck her directly in the sky.
"AHHHHHH!" Qing'er's scream echoed across the city as she was engulfed in dark gold fire.
Her soul was being burned by the world's laws, and despite her will to endure, her eyes eventually rolled back, and she lost consciousness, her limp body beginning to fall from the sky like a broken bird.
Haoran flinched, his heart dropping as he looked up at the sky.
Then, seeing what happened to Qing'er , he simply didn't care about the old man or Jiang Chen in that moment and immediately tucked the knife away and leaped into the air, using his full speed to catch her before she hit the ground.
Taking this golden opportunity, the old man didn't say a word and just grabbed the unconscious Jiang Chen, blood spraying from his mangled side, and vanished into a spatial rift that closed instantly.
Haoran landed on the ground, cradling the unconscious and smoking Qing'er in his arms.
He looked toward the empty space where the old man had been and let out a vicious curse. "Damn it! You won't run far!"
But he didn't dwell on the escape. He looked down at Qing'er, his golden eyes filled with a rare, burning concern as the dark gold lightning was still flickering over her skin, eating at her Saint-level foundation.
He immediately took out several pills from his storage ring and feed it to her, letting the pill dissolve into her mouth.
He sighed, thinking that he seems to have changed a lot.
Before, he wouldn't have cared about Qing'er as long as he accomplished his mission.
But now...
He shook his head, 'Don't think about it for now. Qing'er is a priority.'