Eternal Tale

“Moo~~”

“Brother Ox, this doesn’t look friendly,” Xiao Chi muttered, narrowing his eyes and hiding under Brother Ox’s belly. “Brother Xun, they’re not here to arrest us, are they?”

“If that’s the case, their vision is sorely limited. Don’t overthink it,” Chen Xun replied calmly, one hand clasped behind his back as he let his tough-guy disguise drop, revealing his true face. He called out, “Fellow Daoists, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

His powerful voice echoed across the sky, resonating with the very essence of heaven and earth, sending a wave of awe through the iron-clad cultivators aboard the warships. They exchanged uneasy glances—what an imposing presence!

But when they saw the sight of the black mountain before them, even the most battle-hardened among them felt a chill creep down their spines. At the mountain’s base, a lake of blood stretched as far as the eye could see, filled with the lifeless bodies of corrupted beings, all seemingly felled in a single, devastating blow.

All eyes turned to Bai Li Zhonghu. They knew well that it would take someone of his stature to handle such a figure.

The ten massive warships came to a halt in the sky, anchored in place as a towering man stepped out from the lead vessel and walked across the air to stand before Chen Xun.

“Daoist, I am Bai Li Zhonghu, the current War Marshal of the War Realm Camp. I have come specifically to make your acquaintance,” he introduced himself. Clad in black battle armor, each step he took made the very air tremble with his formidable aura. “I hope, Daoist, that you will not take offense.”

Chen Xun raised his brow, recognizing the name. This was the very person the abbot had mentioned—a man with an impressive lineage and reputation, the leader of the legendary Bai Li Clan.

His gaze drifted to the black armor Bai Li Zhonghu wore. It exuded an ancient and rugged aura, telling tales of countless battles fought. Faint traces of bloodstains could still be seen, and Chen Xun estimated that it was a mid-tier earth-grade defensive artifact, capable of withstanding even the blows of a Deity Transformation cultivator.

Acknowledging the formidable presence before him, Chen Xun nodded with a hint of respect. Bai Li Zhonghu was indeed the most imposing cultivator he had encountered—someone who held the power to command the lives of thousands with a single word.

“I am Chen Xun,” he replied with a polite bow, entirely unfazed by the overwhelming aura surrounding him. “I have waited here for the War Realm Camp’s response, though I did not expect the War Marshal himself to come.”

Hovering midair, Bai Li Zhonghu observed Chen Xun in silence. Neither used divine sense to inspect the other; instead, they gauged one another through their natural aura.

Bai Li Zhonghu’s eyes sharpened as he glanced down at the field of corpses below. Each and every corpse belonged to a corrupted being, and the spine of the mountain was composed of none other than the skeletal remains of Deity Transformation corrupted beings.

Yet, as Bai Li Zhonghu continued to examine Chen Xun, he found not the slightest trace of hostility in him. It was as if he’d cultivated some technique that warded off both malice and the icy aura that permeated the War Realm, an extraordinary feat that piqued the marshal’s curiosity. And, perhaps most striking of all, Chen Xun’s eyes had a depth that seemed to hold the vastness of the stars themselves—calm, profound, and entirely unfathomable.

“There’s something peculiar about this man,” Bai Li Zhonghu thought, his heart jolting as he locked eyes with Chen Xun. It was as if he were staring into the gaze of an ancient beast. “When did Da Li produce such an enigmatic figure?”

After a moment of contemplation, Bai Li Zhonghu broke the silence with a stern expression. “Daoist Chen, might I join you on the mountain for a conversation?”

Chen Xun nodded. “Of course, Marshal, please do.”

At that, Brother Ox promptly brought out a table and chairs fashioned from the Crane Spirit Tree. Chen Xun and Bai Li Zhonghu sat facing each other atop the mountain of corpses, completely undisturbed by the macabre scene below.

Those observing from the ships swallowed hard. Any ordinary cultivator standing atop that mountain would have long since lost their wits in terror, yet here these two sat, coolly discussing matters as if they were seated in a tea garden.

After Bai Li Zhonghu took his seat, he gave Brother Ox and Xiao Chi a brief nod. Recognizing them as Da Li’s own spirit beasts, he seemed to regard them with a certain fondness.

“Moo moo~~”

“Woof! Woof, woof!” Brother Ox and Xiao Chi awkwardly bowed, then squatted on either side of Chen Xun, like loyal sentries.

Xiao Chi’s eyes darted around nervously, not daring to look directly at the marshal, his heart racing as he found comfort in Brother Xun’s presence. Brother Ox, on the other hand, fixed a steady gaze on Bai Li Zhonghu, his usual honest, dependable expression masking his inner thoughts: If things go south, we’ll teleport out immediately, no problem. ℞ΑNÒβĚṧ

The air grew silent as Chen Xun took out a pot of herbal tea, the steam rising gently. “Marshal, to be frank, we’ve been clearing out these corrupted beings precisely in order to meet you. I didn’t expect that you’d turn out to be Bai Li Zhonghu himself.”

“Oh?” Bai Li Zhonghu replied, a glint of intrigue in his eye.

Chen Xun met his gaze. “I wonder if you know of Bai Li Fengyao.”

At the mention of this name, Bai Li Zhonghu’s expression shifted, his intense gaze sharpening further, as if memories had come rushing back. His voice grew serious. “Fengyao is my ninth brother. With his talent and vision, he should have been the next War Marshal.”

Though he maintained his composure, he was curious. Fengyao was notoriously selective about who he associated with. For him to ask someone to deliver a message… Bai Li Zhonghu was eager to hear more.

Chen Xun and his companions, meanwhile, were taken aback. The ninth brother of the War Marshal himself? Chen Xun’s expression, however, remained calm, as if he had known all along.

“His message to you, Marshal, was simply this: ‘The old monk has broken his promise,’” Chen Xun said, pressing his palms together and bowing in a monk-like gesture that mirrored the abbot’s.

Silence.

The wind stilled, and even the faintest breath was muted as Bai Li Zhonghu stared at the table, his fists clenching subtly. A faint crease formed on his brow, and Chen Xun saw the words had hit home.

Those words carried a meaning only he and Fengyao understood. A memory from the past—a private exchange with his ninth brother—echoed in his mind, confirming that Chen Xun had indeed met Fengyao.

His gaze shifted back to Chen Xun, his impression of him growing. Fengyao clearly thought highly of this man. Beneath the surface of that simple message lay a deeper request: that Bai Li Zhonghu look after Chen Xun in the War Realm.

“It seems my ninth brother still can’t let go of his past regrets,” Bai Li Zhonghu said quietly, the hint of a sigh in his voice.

“Yes, the abbot faced defeat in the Ten Provinces Dao Debate,” Chen Xun acknowledged with a nod.

Bai Li Zhonghu clenched his fists. “Fengyao overthinks things. I advised him to focus on his cultivation, destroy all the Buddhist sects in Da Li, and reopen that path. Let him take the lead across the Ten Provinces!”

Chen Xun chuckled softly. “Perhaps that is precisely why he is Bai Li Fengyao. Such a path could bring ruin to the Bai Li Clan’s reputation, embroiling it in endless conflict.”

Bai Li Zhonghu’s gaze softened, a wistful expression in his eyes. This was what he admired most in Fengyao—his ninth brother wanted to reshape the hearts and minds of people, not cut off their future paths.

Curious about the man who seemed so close to his brother, Bai Li Zhonghu studied Chen Xun, sensing a familiarity that suggested an almost timeless bond between them.

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