Chapter Sixty-Five: An Incident Occurs

Song Yue had finally returned. Xiao Meng picked him up at the airport and drove him straight to the Master’s house.

“If there’s anything you need, wait until I get back from my master!” Song Yue said his goodbyes to Xiao Meng and went straight inside.

The door was opened by the mistress. When she saw him, her face broke into a smile.

“You’re back?”

“Yes, I’m back!” Song Yue felt a long-missed warmth well up inside him. This journey to the mysterious Western realm had brought him much, but also left him with many feelings.

Before, he didn’t understand what the martial world truly was. He hadn’t grasped the meaning behind the phrase, “Where there are people, there is Jianghu; where there is Jianghu, there is strife.” Now, after coming of age and venturing into both Kunlun and the Western secret realms, he finally understood.

Whether in the mundane world or among cultivators, it was all a network of smaller “martial worlds” forming a larger whole. This great Jianghu was, in fact, the world itself.

“Did Catherine help you?” the mistress asked with a knowing smile.

“You know her?” Song Yue was surprised. He’d never been in a relationship, but he’d heard enough to know you shouldn’t go telling your wife all about your ex-girlfriends. His master couldn’t be that foolish, could he?

“What’s that look on your face? As if I’m some fierce tigress!” Perhaps pleased to see him home, the mistress teased him.

“You’re not…” It was meant to be a question, but Song Yue realized halfway through and quickly recovered, turning his words into a compliment. “Of course not! There’s no woman under heaven gentler than you, Mistress.”

She pursed her lips, snorted, and said, “Go see your master. He’s waiting for you.”

“Heh, Mistress is the best!” Song Yue shot off another flattery, and then hurried to the study.

Upon seeing his master, Song Yue didn’t wait to be asked—he recounted the entire journey in detail.

When Song Yue spoke of being hunted, his master’s expression did not change much. He already knew the rough details from Catherine.

Having decided to push this fledgling eagle from the nest, whatever direction Song Yue took next would be up to him.

As a warrior, if he couldn’t survive this, it was better to extinguish that restless heart now. Find a stable job, marry, and live a quiet life—it would be safer.

The master could have given Song Yue talismans and treasures for protection. Even with his power sealed, he could still paint protective charms. Ensuring Song Yue’s safety in the mundane world would not be difficult.

But what then? In the cultivation world, on the battlefield, facing higher-level opponents—should one always rely on external aid?

If he still possessed his full strength, he’d have no qualms about being Song Yue’s guardian until he truly matured. He was not a pedantic man; years of mentorship had made Song Yue like a son to him.

But in his current state, he was reluctant even to recall his former glory, let alone speak of it. Though his mind was strong and unyielding, he couldn’t avoid a touch of melancholy. His greatest hope now was to nurture this rare martial prodigy into a towering tree.

So, he let Song Yue roam free. When Song Yue used to pick fights at the Cultivation Academy, he never interfered. Not because Song Yue was never wronged, but because even if he was, the master wouldn’t step in.

A gentle, docile child could never become a warrior.

From what he knew of Song Yue, he wasn’t the type to suffer losses quietly—he was clever, a true martial artist with courage but also the ability to assess situations in times of crisis.

The Ouyang family sending a high-level cultivator after Song Yue had surprised the master. But Song Yue, equipped with the Heavenly Sovereign Technique and the Jade Void Stele, had survived regardless.

He himself had faced similar trials at Song Yue’s age, and he knew that surviving them benefited one’s growth more than any other experience.

When Song Yue was later hunted by the Three-Headed Dragon Organization, the master did grow anxious, even seeking Catherine’s help and contemplating a trip West to retrieve Song Yue himself.

Fortunately, Catherine proved resourceful and rescued Song Yue at the crucial moment.

So, as Song Yue recounted his adventures, the master showed little emotion. It was all in the past—no need for fuss.

Even when Song Yue mentioned the “seafood” and dragon-striped leopard corpses stored in his stele, the master merely nodded in approval.

But when Song Yue spoke of the medicine garden, the master was truly moved.

“The Jade Cauldron Sect’s medicine garden is in that secret realm?”

He frowned slightly and sighed, “Former immortal abodes being occupied by major sects has become increasingly common. Still, I didn’t expect such a grand medicine garden to be hidden there.”

“Would you like to meet the bird demon and the old peony?” Song Yue offered.

The master considered and agreed, and the pair entered the Jade Void Stele.

Inside, a flash of red darted toward them. The red bird squawked, “Oh, I thought you’d forgotten a bird here that still needs meat! Did you finally get tired of playing fish in that river?”

It launched into its complaints, only to spot Song Yue’s master and recoil in shock. “Have you been kidnapped?”

The bird quickly covered its beak with a wing, peering nervously at the master through its feathers.

This calm-looking middle-aged man gave it an odd feeling—he didn’t seem powerful, yet radiated an air of immense danger.

The red bird instantly regretted blurting out and exposing its intelligence.

“Yes, he says he wants stir-fried bird,” Song Yue teased.

The bird flapped frantically, hiding behind the blue enchantress tree.

The master smiled and, under Song Yue’s guidance, went to meet the old peony, which was rooted in soil dug from the medicine garden.

He then surveyed the stele’s space, now transformed into a near-medicine garden, and felt a bit speechless. “Did you really dig up all these herbs from there?”

Song Yue nodded proudly, “What do you think, Master? Would any of these be helpful to you? If you need something higher-grade, I can sneak back and dig up the best ones!”

The master was at a loss, though touched by Song Yue’s filial heart beneath his cheeky exterior.

He smiled, “It’s the thought that counts. No need for all that trouble. The Jade Cauldron Sect may call itself a righteous sect, but if you take all their best herbs, they won’t let you go, even if the garden wasn’t theirs to begin with.”

Song Yue looked crestfallen. “So they’re useless?”

Each of these herbs could fetch a fortune outside. For ordinary people, even a root scrap would be life-changing.

A frugal person could live a lifetime on them.

But for Song Yue, if these herbs could help his master even a little, that made them worthwhile. If not, then their value meant little.

“How could they be useless? You have many high-level herbs here. They may not help me, but they’ll be invaluable for your cultivation,” the master said, smiling. “I thought you’d need much longer to reach Grandmaster, but with these, you’ll get there much sooner!”

“By the way, Master, Lin Huan from the Lin family on Skycross Star invited me over…” Song Yue recounted the discovery of the mysterious underground palace.

The master pondered and nodded. “Go. It’s good to broaden your horizons. Before you leave, I’ll give you something to take along.”

Going to Skycross Star was different from being on Earth; it was truly unfamiliar territory, light-years away. Even with the Lin family’s assurances, the master felt uneasy—he didn’t even fully trust the Lin family.

He’d heard of the family, but didn’t know them well.

That Song Yue had won the Jade Void Stele’s recognition meant his fortunes were profound. If he gained great opportunities in the underground palace, what if the Lin family coveted them?

Things should not be judged by words alone, but by intentions. The human heart was the hardest thing to fathom.

Song Yue nodded. “I understand, Master. I’ll be cautious.”

The red bird, eavesdropping from the blue enchantress tree, finally realized the middle-aged man was Song Yue’s master. It fluttered out again.

The master glanced at it and told Song Yue, “This is a Vermilion Bird—its spiritual sense is very keen.”

Song Yue waited for his master to elaborate, but instead he turned to the old peony, who had remained silent. “This friend here has cultivated for many years.”

The old peony finally spoke, “You are a true master!”

What about me? thought the red bird. Am I not worthy of being called a friend?

It had been waiting for the master to praise its many virtues, but all he said was “keen spiritual sense”? It felt slighted.

It flapped onto the old peony’s branch, staring intently at the master, silently demanding further praise.

The old peony shook its branches and sent the bird flying. “Off you go, little bird. I have things to discuss with this friend.”

Ouch!

The red bird bristled, its body swelling into a majestic, flaming giant. To be fair, its appearance was impressive—at least in terms of size and presence.

The master glanced at it and said, “It would make an excellent mount.”

Song Yue agreed wholeheartedly; now that’s a virtue! Who doesn’t have keen spiritual sense?

The red bird was speechless. It instantly shrank to hummingbird size and sulked in a corner.

The master chatted with the old peony for a while. The peony, pleased to find a kindred spirit, enjoyed talking to the scholarly master far more than Song Yue, who was still too young.

Seeing their rapport, Song Yue suggested, “Why don’t you stay at my master’s house for now?”

The old peony agreed readily. “I don’t mind, but it’s up to this friend here…”

The master considered and nodded; he was genuinely interested in a plant spirit that had lived so many years.

While the mistress was out, Song Yue leaned in and whispered, “Master, that Catherine lady…”

The master paused, then replied lightly, “She was once my subordinate. Don’t let your thoughts wander.”

So, no romantic tale after all. Song Yue was a little disappointed—he had hoped for some gossip.

The old peony came out of the stele space with him, while the red bird refused to leave, convinced that Song Yue’s master couldn’t be trusted, having called it a mount.

The mistress was surprised to see a walking peony, but soon composed herself. She took the old peony to the backyard and found it a comfortable spot with Song Yue’s special soil.

To a flower spirit capable of absorbing spiritual energy on its own, the habitat and soil mattered, but not overly so. If it wished, it could turn even saline wasteland into fertile ground.

The master selected some high-level herbs from the stele to refine pills for Song Yue.

Song Yue also brought out a pile of “seafood” and a large cut of dragon-striped leopard meat—more than the house could store.

He asked his master to pick out some herbs for the mistress, but the master declined, saying, “Your mistress walks a different path from yours.”

It had seemed a casual remark before, but now it felt almost perfunctory.

Even the mistress said she didn’t need them, which puzzled Song Yue.

He was a martial artist, and so was the mistress. Her combat style was that of a pure martial artist as well—so why was her path different?

Leaving the master’s house, Song Yue was still pondering this.

One thing was certain: his mistress was the best woman in the world.

To him, his mother was his blood, but his mistress, who had cared for him for so many years, was even more like a mother.

If only his mother could have been there for him like this.

But then he remembered that his mother and sister must be incredibly busy, and let go of the unrealistic fantasy.

After all, he was grown now.

Song Yue then visited the Bureau of Anomalous Affairs, where he only found Miss Zhu Jia—everyone else was out on assignments.

Zhu Jia was delighted to see him. “If you didn’t come back soon, Old Zhao was going to head West himself to fetch you.”

Whether or not that was true, Song Yue was touched. He’d only been with the Bureau a couple of days, but everyone treated him well.

“It’s enough that you’re safe—don’t overthink things. Once you join the Bureau, you’re family,” Zhu Jia said with a smile, munching on snacks.

By afternoon, the others still hadn’t returned. Zhu Jia told him he could leave for the day, so they left together and went their separate ways.

At home, he messaged Xiao Meng, Xiao Qi, Qian Qianxue, and Wen Rou, planning a dinner that evening.

As soon as the plans were set, Lin Huan called to ask if he was back. Song Yue, thinking quickly, asked her to bring Xiao Mo along—hoping to use the opportunity to introduce everyone.

And maybe help Qian overcome her social anxiety.

In fact, everyone except Wen Rou had already met during the Kunlun secret realm incident.

Still, Qian was surprised that Song Yue was friends with Lin Huan and Xiao Mo, both from Skycross Star.

If he hadn’t sought her out at the academy, Qian would never have agreed to dinner with so many people.

Lin Huan, though from a prominent family, was much more outgoing. But the truly smooth one was Xiao Qi, who didn’t seem like a tomb raider at all. To put it nicely, Xiao Qi was street-smart; less charitably, he was just a rascal, skilled in all manner of tricks.

Despite his youth, he could tell bawdy jokes and was quick to notice Qian’s discomfort, so he praised her effusively.

People always claim to be blunt and ask others not to mind, but who doesn’t mind? Everyone likes to hear compliments, and Qian was no exception.

After Xiao Qi’s flattery, she became noticeably more cheerful.

He knew when to stop, and shifted the topic to Song Yue.

Everyone then began to pepper Song Yue with questions about his Western adventure.

Wen Rou, especially, who had never even left the school gates, was intensely curious about his experiences.

She had once felt close to Song Yue, able to see him often. But since the Kunlun secret realm opened, he seemed to mature overnight and became busy.

Perhaps that was the trouble with growing up. Wen Rou had no desire to grow up—she’d rather hide in the alchemy room, playing with herbs.

If only Song Yue could be there with her, that would be happiness.

Song Yue shared what he could, putting a tragic spin on his tale.

“What did I gain? Xiao Qi knows—since entering, I was hunted by the Northern Sea demon clan and the Ouyang family. When I finally got out, the Ouyang family even accused me of murder! Pure nonsense!”

His innocent look easily fooled Wen Rou, and even Qian believed him.

Though Song Yue’s strength had soared after the Kunlun secret realm, it was hard to believe he could go head-to-head with the top cultivators.

Xiao Mo believed him too, sighing at why things always had to be this way—why couldn’t people just get along?

Wen Rou, sitting beside her, found a kindred spirit, and they quickly exchanged contact details, chatting quietly while listening to Song Yue’s “tragedies.”

A few, however, didn’t buy his story.

Meng Xudong thought Song Yue was overacting. He had almost blind confidence in Song Yue, believing that Song Yue’s luck would always see him through danger.

He believed in fate. Some people were just lucky all their lives, while others, no matter their skill, always lost.

Xiao Qi didn’t believe Song Yue either. Surviving the pursuit of so many experts without a scratch? He remembered the Ouyang elder clutching his head and screaming—either Song Yue had a supreme artifact, or he possessed mental powers rivaling ancient prodigies.

Xiao Qi preferred to believe the former—otherwise, it was just too monstrous.

As for Lin Huan, she didn’t believe a single word.

She’d been following the matter from the start and knew more than Xiao Qi. There were so many mysteries: how had Song Yue escaped such relentless pursuit? How had he incited the dragon-striped leopard to fight the others? Where did the missing bodies go?

The secret realm dwellers were being blamed, but Lin Huan wasn’t convinced.

She’d even tried to use her family’s influence to help when Song Yue was stranded in the West, but the Lin family’s power was mostly on Skycross Star and in the East on Earth.

Her family had advised her not to get involved—if Song Yue could survive repeated disasters, he was worth cooperating with; if not, he wasn’t worth worrying about.

The Lin family wasn’t just looking at Song Yue, anyway—they were seeking other partners, as were other families on Skycross Star, including the Ouyang family.

Though she didn’t believe his story, Lin Huan valued Song Yue even more, sensing he was cloaked in layers of mystery. Perhaps this time, her family would reap great rewards.

She even considered introducing some of her cousins to him—to bind him to the Lin family’s cause.

But upon meeting Qian Qianxue, Lin Huan abandoned the idea. She couldn’t see much from Qian, but sensed the girl was important to Song Yue.

So, during dinner, she often drew Qian into conversation, subtly making it clear she wasn’t aligned with Ouyang, Shen Zhuo, or Josies, and even teased Qian and Song Yue, saying they made a good pair.

Afterwards, Song Yue escorted Qian and Wen Rou back to school.

Wen Rou was still reluctant to part with Xiao Mo, having found a true friend.

With the others gone, Qian relaxed and softly warned Song Yue, “Be careful of Lin Huan. She’s very clever and knows how to read people.”

Song Yue nodded.

“She also mentioned inviting you to explore the underground palace on Skycross Star. Be vigilant,” Qian added.

Song Yue smiled, “You’re so concerned—why don’t you come with me?”

Qian tilted her head at him, “I’m not going. I wasn’t invited, anyway.”

Just as Song Yue was about to reply, his phone rang. Seeing it was Zhu Jia, he paused and answered, “What’s up? Why are you calling at this hour?”

On the other end, Zhu Jia’s usually spirited voice was shaky, almost in tears. “Forty miles west of the city—I’ve sent you the location. Get here, quick. Something’s happened!”