The Ten Thousand Mountains,
Sheer cliffs and towering ancient trees.
At the peak of the mountain, shrouded in clouds, stood a lone Taoist temple.
In front of the temple, there were two figures—an old man and a young man.
"Lin Feng, ten years have passed. You are now invincible in the mortal world. It's time for you to descend the mountain."
The old man's voice was hoarse and weathered.
"If you want to hit me, just say it directly."
Lin Feng's eyes were filled with hatred as he looked at the old man.
The old man fell silent for a moment, then said, "Actually, when I hit you, it was for your own good!"
"Heh…"
Lin Feng let out a cold laugh at those words and remained silent.
"Lin Feng, do you hate me?"
The old man suddenly asked.
"I used to hate you a lot."
"And now?"
"Now, it doesn't matter anymore. Ten years have passed, and there's no point in talking about it."
"Yes, it's meaningless! How many ten years does one have in life…"
"Time cuts down even the greatest of talents like a knife."
"Even someone as strong as me couldn't cross that distant, unreachable shore."
The old man sighed deeply.
He struggled to lift his head, gazing at the distant sky.
At that moment, the sun was setting, the evening sky tinged with hues of yellow.
The dusk light mingled with the clouds, casting a beautiful glow upon the vast forests below.
"The sunset is endlessly beautiful, but it only signals the coming of dusk."
The old man sighed with emotion, then added,
"Lin Feng, could you call me 'Master' just once?"
Lin Feng lowered his head, his mouth still curled in that same cold, unchanging smile.
The old man seemed used to it and continued speaking to himself.
"Lin Feng, what do you think the Immortal Realm is like?"
"Lin Feng, I'd like some dumplings."
"Lin Feng, my tooth aches..."
Gradually, the atmosphere fell into silence.
The evening breeze whispered through, bringing with it a trace of chill.
After a long while, Lin Feng sensed something was wrong. He looked up at the old man, only to find that, at some point, the old man had closed his eyes and taken his final breath.
Seeing this, Lin Feng abruptly grabbed the old man's body, lifting it with a cold voice:
"You just wanted to trick me into descending the mountain so you'd have an excuse to beat me again. Did you really need to go so far as to pretend to be dead?"
But...
No matter how much Lin Feng spoke, the old man remained unresponsive.
His face had started turning pale and slightly purple, his body growing cold.
The once dignified figure, now frail and barely weighing eighty pounds, had lost all of the ethereal grace he once possessed.
...
Memories slowly surfaced in his mind.
Ten years ago, Lin Feng was only twenty-two, freshly graduated from university.
To fulfill a promise to his girlfriend, he had set off alone by car to Yun Chuan to meet her parents.
Unexpectedly, along the way, he encountered this mysterious old man.
The old man claimed that Lin Feng possessed a rare natural spiritual constitution, making him an ideal candidate for cultivation.
Ignoring Lin Feng's protests, the old man forcefully took him to this remote, desolate mountain.
And there he stayed, for ten whole years!
During these ten years, the old man subjected him to the most brutal training imaginable.
Each day, before dawn, he had to begin his cultivation.
At seven, he practiced fist techniques;
at ten, leg techniques;
at noon, swordsmanship;
at two, eye techniques;
at six in the evening, formation arts;
at nine, alchemy.
After midnight, he began his breathing exercises, absorbing spiritual energy.
Day after day, year after year.
Countless times over those ten years, he wanted to run away, to escape, to return home.
But every attempt ended with the old man easily catching him and giving him a savage beating!
The worst time, he almost lost his life.
Though cultivation was a tremendous opportunity, Lin Feng didn't care about it at all.
His girlfriend was waiting for him to propose, and his aging parents and young sister depended on him to support them.
How could he stay here?
But no matter how he pleaded, the old man remained unmoved.
Once, Lin Feng had even begged to send a message home, kneeling and imploring, but the old man only responded with another beating.
"To cultivate the Dao is to defy the heavens; you must sever all worldly attachments!" the old man had said, his voice cold as ice.
"Lin Feng, unless I die, you will never leave this mountain!"
From that moment, Lin Feng hated the old man with every fiber of his being!
He trained with relentless determination, hoping to one day surpass the old man and tear him limb from limb, to release the hatred festering in his heart.
And just like that, ten years slipped by.
He endured ten years of grueling cultivation, waiting not for the day he could surpass the old man, but for the scene he faced now.
At this moment, Lin Feng felt hollow inside.
There was no joy as he had imagined, nor the expected rage—only an unsettling calm.
Or perhaps numbness would be a more fitting description.
He simply felt that his decade-long perseverance was nothing but a ridiculous joke.
The evening wind picked up, growing colder.
The temperature in the mountains seemed to plummet suddenly to below freezing.
Without a word, Lin Feng silently buried the old man.
Then he stood up and turned, his melancholic eyes gazing at the distant, verdant mountain peaks.
No one could truly understand what he was feeling at this moment.
For a long, long time...
"I didn't expect that this time, you really are gone."
"Your body will slowly fade away, merging with eternity, like grains of sand in the desert. In some sense, perhaps this, too, is a form of immortality."
"With this farewell, we will never meet again!"
Lin Feng ultimately never managed to utter the word "Master."
Or rather, by now, what meaning would it have, even if he did?
He summoned his sword, his whole figure transforming into a beam of light, disappearing into the horizon.
If any cultivator had been present to witness it, they would have been utterly astonished—unbelievable that in this age of dwindling magic, someone could still fly by sword!
...
Half an hour later, Lin Feng finally returned to the place he remembered as home.
His hometown lay on the outskirts of Jinling City in Jiangnan Province.
The home he had longed for all these years was nothing more than a humble little cottage.
In front of the cottage was a small pond, its surface dotted with ripples, while willows swayed gently along the edge.
"So… nothing has changed after all!"
Looking at the familiar scene before him, Lin Feng's deep eyes finally grew moist.
After a decade away, he had returned to his homeland.
Even with his current state of mind, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow, a desire to shed tears.
In the mountains, how many countless nights had he dreamed of such a scene...
Dreamed of swimming in the pond as a child,
Dreamed of the warmth of human life,
Dreamed of the innocence of his youth… the people still the same.
"Ten years gone without a trace… My parents probably believe I'm dead by now, don't they?"
"And my sister… She was only nine when I left. I wonder if she's in college by now."
"The old man said that cultivation is a path to immortality, a path that requires severing all worldly ties. But if I cut off my bonds with those dearest to me, what, then, is the purpose of cultivating?"
Lin Feng exhaled a long breath, calming the turmoil within.
For so many years, hadn't he been waiting precisely for this moment?
Just then, a terrified cry came from inside the cottage:
"I was wrong! I don't want the relocation money! I was wrong, I know I was wrong!"
"Sob… No… please, no…"
"Smack! Stay quiet!"
...
Upon hearing this fearful voice, Lin Feng's expression changed abruptly.
"That's... Xiao Yao's voice?"
His sister—was someone trying to harm her?
"Damn it!!!"
Lin Feng's face turned ice-cold, an aura of fury radiating from him.
In a flash, his body moved almost as if teleporting, rushing toward the door of the cottage!
...