Chapter 241: Zhao, A Radiant and Brilliant Light
This novel is translated and hosted only on Bcatranslation
Master Qing Yan noticed that Fang Cheng Lang’s tone lacked defiance, and his mood improved. He posed a carefully prepared question.
Fang Cheng Lang froze for a moment before looking up.
“If I tell the truth, will you believe me, Master?”
“I will judge for myself.”
“Very well.”
A flicker of light passed through the gloom in Fang Cheng Lang’s eyes.
His master must have believed him to some extent to even ask. Even if Master only trusted thirty percent, it would be enough to hinder Ye Cong Xin’s smooth ascension this time around. The Cultivation World would not become her stepping stone, letting her plunder as she pleased.
Fang Cheng Lang recounted everything—how he encountered the Tablet of Fate and the subsequent dream. Not a single detail was omitted.
Master Qing Yan nodded subtly. Fang Cheng Lang’s account matched the fragmented memories Master Qing Yan had obtained from a foreign soul.
However, when Fang Cheng Lang mentioned Yu Zhao’s death, Master Qing Yan’s face darkened.
The memories Master Qing Yan had acquired ended abruptly after “Master Qing Yan” killed Yu Zhao. What transpired afterward was unknown, leaving him unable to verify Fang Cheng Lang’s words. Still, he found it hard to believe that the vast Cultivation World could be toyed with by Ye Cong Xin alone. The concept of Luck Value seemed preposterous.
“Fang Cheng Lang, answer me honestly: are you slandering Little Seven for Yu Zhao’s sake?”
The light in Fang Cheng Lang’s eyes dimmed at Master Qing Yan’s question. His master still didn’t trust him. With Master Qing Yan here, Fang Cheng Lang could never eliminate Ye Cong Xin. Thus, the ending would remain unchanged.
Slumping his shoulders, Fang Cheng Lang reverted to his lifeless demeanor. “This matter has nothing to do with Yu Zhao. Please forgive your disciple’s frankness.”
Master Qing Yan frowned, suppressing his anger. “Have you ever heard of the name Shui Qing Yue?”
“Shui Qing Yue?” Fang Cheng Lang shook his head in confusion but then looked quickly at Master Qing Yan as though recalling something.
“Speak,” Master Qing Yan demanded coldly.
After some thought, Fang Cheng Lang carefully replied, “In the dream, I seem to have heard this name once.”
“When?”
Master Qing Yan’s eyes brimmed with expectation.
Fang Cheng Lang said, word by word, “At Little Six’s funeral. You stared at Little Six’s burial mound and suddenly called out ‘Qing Yue,’ then coughed up blood and fainted.”
Yu Zhao’s funeral had taken place after Ye Cong Xin’s ascension. By then, everyone knew of Ye Cong Xin’s treachery and their misunderstanding of Yu Zhao. To atone, they held a joint funeral for Yu Zhao. However, when she died, no one had collected her remains. Later, even her bones could not be found. They placed Yu Zhao’s clothing in a grave as a symbolic gesture.
Master Qing Yan had exhibited abnormalities while they erected a monument for Yu Zhao.
“What happened after that? Did I ever mention my relationship with her?” Master Qing Yan pressed.
Fang Cheng Lang shook his head. “You never spoke of it.”
Ye Cong Xin had taken away the Cultivation World’s hope, and Master Qing Yan’s diminished strength made him a shadow of his former self. No one cared to pry into his affairs anymore.
Master Qing Yan sighed. The trail was cold again.
“Reflect on your actions.”
Without lifting Fang Cheng Lang’s confinement or sending him to the Black Prison, Master Qing Yan left him in his quarters for self-reflection. Fang Cheng Lang was his first disciple, and Master Qing Yan still harbored hope that he would not stray onto a destructive path.
As he turned to leave, Fang Cheng Lang’s voice stopped him.
“Master, do you remember why you named Yu Zhao ‘Zhao’?”
Zhao, meaning radiant, brilliant, and resplendent, conveyed beauty and blessing. Once, Master Qing Yan had eagerly awaited Yu Zhao’s arrival. Yet now, he cursed her bitterly, filled with hatred.
“Master, please spare Yu Zhao.”
Fang Cheng Lang knelt and bowed deeply.
Bang!
The door slammed shut.
In the darkened room, Fang Cheng Lang knelt, his expression merging with the surrounding gloom.
…
“Qing Yan, Master Qing Yan, what are you doing? Let’s talk this out!”
Master Wu Sang was deep in thought over a medicinal formula when Master Qing Yan barged in, snatching the Alchemy Compendium without a word.
Though bewildered, Master Wu Sang suppressed his anger, noting Master Qing Yan’s stormy expression.
As a compassionate alchemist, he decided not to argue with a “patient.” Especially not one he couldn’t defeat.
“Master Wu Sang, when I sought medicine for my condition years ago, I awoke at the Green Wood Sect. Do you know who brought me there?”
“Huh?” Master Wu Sang, still preoccupied with proportions, took a moment to process the question.
“No one brought you. You walked there yourself.”
Master Wu Sang elaborated with enthusiasm, “When you appeared outside the Green Wood Sect, the gatekeeping disciples were terrified and called for the elders. Elder Lotus and I escorted you in. At the time, your head condition had flared up. You didn’t recognize anyone, and your spiritual energy was erratic.”
He described how the Green Wood Sect and Hermit Bao Hua had coordinated to save Master Qing Yan.
Master Qing Yan had assumed someone else had rescued him and brought him to the Green Wood Sect. Now he knew he’d arrived there on his own.
A hypothesis formed in his mind: if he had crossed paths with Shui Qing Yue, it must have been during his medicine-seeking journey. His ailment might have caused him to forget both Shui Qing Yue and their shared history.
The realization left Master Qing Yan hollow. That lost memory might be inconsequential, but it was a part of him nonetheless.
“Master Wu Sang, can lost memories be recovered?”
“Unlikely.”
Master Qing Yan’s illness had always been puzzling, its onset and remission both peculiar. Master Wu Sang dared not make definitive claims.
Master Qing Yan’s cold gaze bore down on him. “Is there truly no way?”
Master Wu Sang hesitated. “If you undergo a strong enough stimulus, you might regain them. But the risks outweigh the benefits.”
Before he finished, Master Qing Yan vanished, leaving Master Wu Sang clutching the returned Alchemy Compendium with a sigh of relief.
The older Master Qing Yan grew, the odder his temperament became. Only the straightforward Sect Master Ji Yuan might tolerate his outbursts.
Master Wu Sang dismissed the matter with a chuckle and returned to his alchemical pursuits, convinced of his eventual renown.