Chapter 69: The Supreme Path of Emotionlessness?
Hu Shang Ke drank heavily that night, spilling everything he knew about Chen Yan without reservation. Though none of it was particularly sensitive information, Assistant Yan still felt the trip was worthwhile.
After ensuring that the now-drunken Hu Shang Ke was safely escorted away, Assistant Yan remained composed—his seasoned resilience to alcohol far exceeded that of a mere youngster like Hu Shang Ke. He recalled every word spoken, then swiftly recorded it in a small notebook he always carried.
An hour later, President Fang sat in his office, listening as Assistant Yan reported while scanning the notes.
“…That’s the gist of it, Boss. According to Hu Shang Ke, Teacher Chen is quite an easygoing person.”
President Fang stroked his brow, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his lips.
“Fond of women? Loves money?”
“Yes.”
President Fang chuckled and shook his head. “That’s normal. Who the hell doesn’t like money? And as for men—tell me, which young man with fire in his blood doesn’t have an eye for beauty?”
With that, he took his pen and struck out the words lustful and greedy from the notes.
“That fool Hu doesn’t know a damn thing. Reading a few comics makes someone lustful? Watching a few risqué shows makes someone a pervert? With Teacher Chen’s capabilities, if he were truly lecherous, he would’ve long indulged in a life of extravagance and debauchery.”
Leaning back in his chair, President Fang continued, “And money? Everyone likes money. But Teacher Chen has his principles. Even when Luo Qing offered him half the settlement money, he refused. That’s not greed—it’s a sense of restraint.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Assistant Yan nodded immediately. “Besides that, Hu Shang Ke also mentioned that Teacher Chen values loyalty. Once he makes a promise to a friend, he never fails to fulfill it. That suggests he’s a man of principle.”
“That’s a good thing.” President Fang’s expression grew serious. “Men without principles can be bought, but if you can buy them, so can others. A man with principles, though—that is someone you can trust.”
After sending Assistant Yan away, President Fang remained seated, flipping through the notes once more.
“Hmm… Likes tall women with ample curves… Well, hell, so do I.” He sighed, rubbing his chin. “Too bad I don’t have a daughter or a sister with those features.”
Wait—no.
With his looks and physique, if he had a stunning daughter with that kind of body, it’d raise some very troubling questions about his lineage. If it were a sister, then it would be his father’s headwear color in question!
President Fang was pragmatic. With his wealth, acquiring a gorgeous, well-endowed woman and offering her to Teacher Chen was an easy feat. The problem was, men of true skill rarely accepted favors freely. If the relationship wasn’t solid enough, the gift might not even be accepted.
Besides—Teacher Chen already had an extraordinary beauty in his household.
Wait a second…
Now that he thought about it, when he visited Chen Yan’s home, wasn’t there already a tall, curvy young woman living there?
—
For three days, Chen Yan reclined at home—not entirely idle, but noticeably more relaxed.
Before, when he obtained the sect’s secret manual, he had been eager to train relentlessly, aiming to ascend as a grandmaster. But now? With his Primordial Spirit cultivation permanently sealed, the path to higher realms—Transcendence and Sainthood—was entirely out of reach. No matter how hard he trained, he would remain in the Mortal Cultivator stage.
This realization dampened his enthusiasm for training.
Yet, Chen Yan was not one to dwell on misfortune. After just three days of idleness, his fighting spirit rekindled.
A low ceiling had its benefits. If his limits were clear, then reaching them quickly meant he could relax sooner. The end goal was the same—so why rush?
And truthfully, staying in the Mortal Cultivator realm wasn’t so bad. The Domain Realm wasn’t exactly a paradise, and he had no burning desire to reach it. In fact, even if he had stayed in this world with the best opportunities, he wouldn’t have been able to break through to Heavenly Mortal—this world’s laws simply didn’t permit it.
So really, not much had changed.
Sure, his Primordial Spirit was weaker than that of top-tier Mortal Cultivators, but it wasn’t as if he were some treasure-hunting battle maniac. This world didn’t even have many powerful fighters. Take Chu Ke Qing, for example—she was in the Origin Stage, just like him, but clearly weaker. And yet, she had earned the title of Elder Zi, a renowned martial figure.
If he advanced just one level to Platform Ascension, wouldn’t he be able to dominate this world with ease?
With that in mind, Chen Yan resumed his training, focusing primarily on the Sword Finger Technique that Gu Qing Yi had taught him. It was simple, effective, and lethal—the perfect offensive method for him right now.
Of course, what he truly coveted was Formless Cataclysm-Slaying Slash—that awe-inspiring technique Gu Qing Yi had demonstrated.
He cautiously inquired about it, hoping for some guidance.
Gu Qing Yi fell silent for a moment before speaking. “I don’t mind teaching you, but you won’t be able to master it.”
“Why not?”
She met his gaze and explained, “I perfected this technique on the Hell-Suppressing Platform, using slaughter as my path to enlightenment. Only by nurturing one’s spirit with the intent to kill can it be achieved.”
Then she asked, “How many lives have you taken?”
Chen Yan hesitated. “Before my grandmother passed, I slaughtered two chickens in the countryside. Aside from that… just the Mountain Fiend the other day.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Gu Qing Yi said nothing more. She simply tilted her head, expression unreadable, then turned and walked away.
Chen Yan opened his mouth, then closed it.
[I just got looked down upon by this woman.]
—
“Tch, the Gu family’s Formless Cataclysm-Slaying Slash is barely considered a high-grade technique. Its power is sufficient, but the risks are immense. It’s not a supreme technique, no matter how highly that Gu girl regards it. Youth… always so limited in their vision.”
Across from Chen Yan’s villa, an old man lounged by the second-floor window, reclining lazily in his chair, legs crossed. His sharp ears had effortlessly eavesdropped on the conversation happening over a hundred meters away.
With his cultivation, such a distance was insignificant.
The elder straightened his back, lifted the teapot beside him, and took a slow sip. Only then did he recline once more, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.
“The young girl of the Gu Clan possesses impressive talent,” he mused, “but this Formless Cataclysm-Slaying Slash carries too much killing intent. The Gu Clan’s cultivation method has always strayed toward extremes.”
He sighed, tracing the path of her cultivation in his mind. “She treads the Dao through the intent to kill. A shortcut, but a treacherous one. If she continues down this path, in just a few years, the killing intent will coalesce into a Heart Demon—at best, she will lose her cultivation; at worst, she will lose her life.”
“Unless…” His gaze flickered with an unspoken possibility. “She cultivates the Supreme Path of Emotionlessness!”
With the art of severing emotions, she could cut down the Heart Demon and dissipate the bloodthirst. That was a road she could walk.
Yet…
“Only madmen practice the Supreme Path of Emotionlessness!” The elder shook his head. “What sane person would willingly forge themselves into an unfeeling, frigid stone?”
—
In her chamber, Lu Si Si sat at her desk, cradling a copy of No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu.
But she could not seem to read past the first few lines.
Once upon a time, she had adored this book. Not because she harbored any particular fondness for the Japanese writer, but because there was a time when her life had been shrouded in bleakness, bereft of hope. Dazai’s detached and indifferent prose had resonated with her soul, offering a strange sense of kinship.
A man who had attempted suicide multiple times and ultimately perished by his own hand—his self-destructive despair had once mirrored her own state of mind.
But now…
She closed the book with a sigh and returned it to the shelf. Reaching for her phone, she opened WeChat and glanced at her chat history.
Lately, she had exchanged the occasional idle conversation with Chen Yan—nothing of consequence, just meaningless chatter.
Yet, as she scrolled through the messages, a small smile played on her lips.
“The words themselves are mundane,” she thought. “But isn’t that what love is?”
Somewhere, she had read that falling in love meant wanting to share even the most trivial moments. Even something as absurd as watching two stray cats brawl on the street—it would suddenly seem worth recounting to the person in your heart.
Lost in thought, she was startled by the abrupt creak of her door swinging open.
Her father, Yang Jia Ming, stepped inside.
A man of Harbor City, his name carried the distinct cadence of that place. He had several brothers—Jia Jin, Jia Ye, Jia Wei…
Had she been entered into the family records, she would have borne the surname Yang as well. By the clan’s generational hierarchy, she belonged to the “Hui” character line—her name might have been Yang Hui Xin.
But she was content with her name as it was. She had no desire to change it.
“Si Si, doing your schoolwork?” Yang Jia Ming took a seat beside her. His tone was even, though not particularly warm.
“Reading a novel.” She shook her head. “It’s the holidays. No schoolwork.”
He nodded. “How were your grades this semester? Any subjects you failed and need to retake?”
“Not this time. I passed everything.” She answered cautiously.
He seemed surprised, pausing briefly before saying, “Good. That means you put in effort.”
(I have always put in effort…) she thought but did not voice it aloud. Instead, she exhaled lightly.
Her father, clearly lacking in things to say, reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pendant.
“Your mother and I took your younger brother on a trip recently. We visited a temple, and your mother prayed for this amulet—for your safety. Keep it with you.”
Lu Si Si accepted it with a quiet nod, fingers curling around the charm without putting it on.
Yang Jia Ming observed her in silence. The clear, delicate features of his daughter, the distance in her eyes—he sighed inwardly.
It was not that he had abandoned his love for his daughter after his son was born. No, when she had first come into the world, he had cherished her, cradled her as though she were a precious gem.
But…
She was beset with misfortune. More terrifying still, those close to her seemed to suffer as well.
Not only had his wife fallen ill multiple times, but he himself had been involved in two inexplicable car accidents—both times, Lu Si Si had been in the vehicle.
Then there was the fortune-teller in Harbor City, who had spoken of fate and calamity.
As the years passed, fear had crept into their hearts. Fear had become distance. And when their son was born, that fear had evolved into something colder. They dared not allow him too close to his sister, lest her ill fate taint him as well.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Yang Jia Ming said at last. “This Lunar New Year, we will be going to Harbor City.”
Lu Si Si nodded without hesitation. “I understand. I’ll stay home alone. I won’t cause any trouble.”
“…Good. You’re always the most well-behaved.” His hand lifted slightly, as though to pat her head, but it hovered in the air for a moment before he retracted it. His expression blank, he turned and left the room.
As the door closed behind him, Lu Si Si rested her head on the desk, silent.
She ought to feel sadness, but after all these years, she had grown numb to their estrangement.
Ever since she had come of age, each New Year had seen her parents and brother depart for Harbor City, leaving her alone.
In past years, such abandonment might have weighed upon her. But this time, she felt… different.
Quietly, she picked up her phone and typed out a message to Chen Yan.
[Will you be in Jin Ling Prefecture for the New Year?]
A moment later, his response came.
[I’ll be going back to my hometown in the countryside.]
Her fingers tightened slightly around her phone. An inexplicable sense of loss welled up within her. It was stronger than the disappointment of being left alone for the holiday.
But then, another message arrived.
[If you’re staying in Jin Ling Prefecture and find yourself bored, you could come with me. It’s lively in the countryside during New Year’s.]
Lu Si Si’s eyes lit up at once!
A surge of excitement coursed through her as she leapt to her feet, flinging open her wardrobe.
“I’ll meet his family there, won’t I? What should I wear?”
Her gaze darted from one outfit to another.
“This one’s too childish… This one’s too dull… Ah, this one is outdated…”
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation