Chapter 320: Meeting In The Temple

Chapter 320: Meeting In The Temple

The evening wind swirled through the courtyard, causing leaves and grass to flutter around. The dim candlelight flickered unsteadily. In the courtyard sat a middle-aged woman, not particularly striking in appearance but exuding a sense of grace. She leaned against the stone table.

The servant below her bowed and kneeled, trembling as he said, "We asked the young master... He said the climate in Eastern Mount Yue is pleasant and he does not wish to return."

Lu Wanrong shook her head helplessly and sighed softly, saying gently, "I know what he's thinking... He's seeking shamanic spells in Eastern Mount Yue... trying to open his spiritual orifice. With his father still not returned, I cannot persuade him."

Li Xuanling had only one wife and never took concubines. She bore him two children, each with a different personality. The elder daughter, Li Qinghong, was bright and high-spirited and had reached the third heavenly layer of the Qi Cultivation Realm. In contrast, his younger son, Li Yuanyun, who lacked a spiritual orifice, was unremarkable and increasingly sullen.

Lu Wanrong had noticed the changes in Li Yuanyun with growing anxiety, and she had even mentioned it to Li Xuanling several times. Each time the subject of their son was raised, Li Xuanling would just say to let him be, as long as he did not harm anyone...

She had always been a perceptive woman and sensed an inexplicable guilt in her husband who was always lenient with Li Yuanyun, leaving her at a loss on what to do.

Even when she had carried Yuanyun up the mountain years ago, she had trembled, unable to lift her head in Li Tongya's imposing presence. However, the children of the Xuan generation—whether it was Li Xuanfeng or Li Xuanxuan—had always treated Li Yuanyun exceptionally well.

"Perhaps I am overthinking it," Lu Wanrong said as she shook her head to dispel the thought and asked solemnly, "Any news from the marketplace?"

"Yes, Madam... They said that there's still no word of the Third Master," the servant reported.

Lu Wanrong, now nearly forty, had limited talent, only reaching the third stage of the Embryonic Breathing Realm. Unable to match her husband's progress and constrained by her surname, she had always kept a low profile and refrained from asserting authority. However, with Li Xuanling missing for three months, her composure was beginning to wane.

She tightened her grip on the jade cup, her brow furrowed with worry, and said solemnly, "Three full months without any news... My husband has always been cautious; something must have happened... What is the response from the mountain?"

Li Xuanling called out twice but received no response. Feeling a bit uneasy, he hesitated before raising his hand to knock again. Just then, the gray-red door creaked open slowly.

It opened on its own, allowing the morning breeze, fresh with rain, to flow into the hall. Li Xuanling stood silently, staring blankly at the scene inside.

The drizzle dampened the courtyard, accompanied by the cries of white cranes. Inside, the hall was dark, illuminated only by dim candles, and a strange mixture of incense and the scent of blood filled the air.

Dark blood flowed on the floor, reflecting specks of golden light. The solemn clay statues stood watch, but below them lay scattered bones. An old Daoist priest's headless corpse kneeled at the front, his white hair scattered and gently scattering in the wind.

In the center, the meditation cushion was buried under a pile of Daoist corpses, all stacked in layers. The eyes of the dead were wide open, yet there was no trace of resentment—only an odd sense of peacefulness.

Atop the mountain of corpses sat a monk, shirtless, who had defined, blood-red muscles. With his hands clasped in meditation and eyes closed, a golden mark glowed on his forehead.

The floor was covered in dismembered limbs and blood, hiding the gilded runes. Blood dripped from the soaked Daoist cloth, a dripping sound echoing as each drop fell onto the monk's near-perfect muscles. However, he remained still, unaware.

"Fahui..."

This was the monk who had fought Li Xuanling in Zhao State's Duanchen Village ten days ago for no reason. Now, drenched in blood, his aura fluctuated as he sat cross-legged atop the corpse mountain.

Fahui's ears twitched, his determined face covered in dried blood. His eyelids fluttered before slowly opening, his pupils ablaze with a golden-red fire. He stared silently at Li Xuanling below.

"Vile serpent! I have waited long for you!"