Chapter 163

“What? The Northern Gaoyuan? And there are only three days left until New Year’s Day?”

“Yes.”

“Well, now.”

The old man fell silent. Before him, the three leaders and more than two hundred of their men knelt respectfully, hanging on his every word.

“Is that really true?”

“W-We’re certain.”

“How could we possibly dare lie to your face?”

“…I see.”

The old man’s expression darkened at their desperate excuses.

He knew what they were saying was true. He had only wanted to deny it, if only a little—the fact that he was growing old.

So I was out of it for seven days and nights. Seven days and nights… It’s getting longer.

It was because of the infirmities of old age.

He had first noticed the strange symptoms more than twenty years ago. While cultivating, he had felt his essence, qi, and spirit falling out of alignment and realized that time had finally caught up with him.

He was already nearing a hundred. He did not fear death, but he had no desire to be remembered as a senile old man.

Even after all that effort…

He had reached his limit. The curse of time could not be held back even by two jiazi of internal energy or the Force of a Supreme Peak master.

He had managed to stave off the infirmities of old age for twenty years. He should be satisfied with that alone. The old man forced himself to cast aside his bitterness.

“Pour me a drink.”

“Um, the wine has gone cold, so we’re preparing a fresh batch.”

At Black Sand’s cautious reply, the old man clicked his tongue.

“How long will that take? Never mind. Bring me the cold wine.”

“Yes.”

Who would dare argue with him? At a glance from Black Sand, two burly mounted bandits hauled over a wine jar, grunting with effort.

The enormous jar, tall enough to reach a man’s chest, sloshed with half-cooled mare’s-milk wine.

“Tsk, tsk. Young men these days are so weak. Don’t you feed your men?”

“H-How could we not?”

“Then why are they struggling so much? Good grief. I can’t stand watching this.”

The old man sprang to his feet and snatched the jar away. Weighing several hundred catties at the very least, it rose effortlessly in one hand.

It was almost impossible to believe such strength could come from a body reduced to little more than skin and bones. Black Sand wanted to gouge out his own eyes.

I must have been insane. I thought a monster like that was nothing more than a senile old man.

At least he had watched his words. The Human Butcher had swung his sword around while calling the man an old geezer, and look how horribly he had died.

Black Sand had no desire to meet the same end, bleeding from all seven orifices.

“Elder! I’ll do it!”

“Don’t call me elder. Sit down and stop talking nonsense.”

“No, no. Mare’s-milk wine tastes best when it’s piping hot. I’ll heat it myself…”

“Piping hot, you say?”

Black Sand fell speechless.

The next moment, tremendous heat burst from the wine jar.

It came from the old man’s hand gripping the jar.

White flames that made them feel suffocated and sent goose bumps crawling over their skin at the mere sight instantly heated the jar and warmed the mare’s-milk wine.

“T-That’s…”

“S-Samadhi True Fire?”

Temur, Chinggen, and the more than two hundred underlings were stunned by the sight before them.

The three leaders were particularly shocked.

What the hell?

He’s using Samadhi True Fire on a wine jar that size?

That’s an unbelievable amount of internal energy. Who is this old man?

Samadhi True Fire was a flame produced by burning internal energy. Any Peak master with sufficiently profound internal energy could use it without much difficulty.

However, the flames were weak compared to the enormous amount of internal energy they consumed, making them hopelessly inefficient in actual combat.

“Bring me a bowl. A big one.”

But this old man was different.

The heat they had felt, though momentary, had been tremendous. If he wished, he seemed capable not only of harming people but of melting steel.

His martial arts and internal energy have already reached a transcendent realm.

It isn’t only the Samadhi True Fire. His internal energy itself is overwhelmingly powerful Scorching Yang Qi.

Keep your mouth shut. One wrong word and… you’re dead.

The three men swallowed hard and hurried about like waiters attending an honored guest.

“Allow me to pour you a drink.”

“Bring meat! Meat!”

“Just tear off the legs!”

Black Sand, the Squad Leader of the Black Sand Band—known across the steppe as a harbinger of death—poured the mare’s-milk wine. The two tribal chieftains, descendants of the Great Khan and commanders of hundreds of mounted warriors, circled the table, tearing off only the tender leg meat and presenting it to the old man.

It was a sight even gold could not buy.

“Mm. This is why rude bastards need a good beating. They only learn manners after someone teaches them a lesson.”

“You’re absolutely right, elder.”

The old man, who had been washing down carefully stripped meat with mare’s-milk wine, paused.

“Elder?”

“Y-Yes. Did I make some kind of mistake?”

“You’re making me sound old. Like some old man who could drop dead at any moment.”

Yes. You really do look like you’re about to drop dead.

Black Sand barely swallowed the words before they escaped. His opponent was a peerless master whose realm he could not even begin to fathom. He had to stay on the old man’s good side somehow.

“Then, big brother…”

“Do I look like a pushover?”

“I-I’m sorry!”

Bam!

Without another word, Black Sand slammed his forehead against the floor. He wanted to die. The man hated “elder” because it made him sound old, but apparently “big brother” made him sound like a pushover. What the hell was Black Sand supposed to call him?

The old man gave the prostrated Black Sand a light kick.

“Get up.”

“Yes, sir!”

“You two with the scraped foreheads as well.”

Whoosh!

Temur and Chinggen, who had been diligently stripping meat from the bones, rushed over at the speed of light and knelt.

Only after taking a long drink of mare’s-milk wine did the old man finally speak.

“So, what kind of bastards are you?”

Mounted bandits. And nomads who were little different from mounted bandits.

They had no idea what would happen if they told the truth to an old man who was clearly a senior master of the orthodox faction.

Just as the three desperately exchanged glances—

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Ghk!”

“Gasp!”

“Argh!”

The old man struck each of them on the head with a knuckle at a speed too fast to see, then glared.

“You goddamn bastards. An adult asks you a question, and all you do is roll your eyes at each other?”

“I-I’m sorry, elder.”

“I told you not to call me elder. Are you performing some ritual to pray for my death? Huh?”

Smack!

Black Sand answered and got hit again for his trouble. He felt tears welling up. He was over fifty, and all his subordinates were watching him…

“Oldest one first. Answer me.”

Black Sand gazed at the old man with watery eyes and opened his mouth.

“I, that is… I roam the steppe with like-minded brothers, with our horses as companions…”

“So you’re a worthless mounted bandit. You loot, murder, and set fires every chance you get.”

“…”

The old man regarded Black Sand with utter contempt before turning away. Temur and Chinggen flinched and lowered their heads.

“You two call yourselves nomads, but you’re no different. Am I wrong?”

“N-No, sir.”

“You are absolutely right.”

“The only way you’re better than mounted bandits is that, although you loot and kill, at least you aren’t arsonists setting fire to everything in sight. Bastards who burn down other people’s homes deserve to be beaten to death!”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Wasn’t murder normally considered the gravest crime?

The three men tilted their heads at this strange distinction, only to be struck by another hail of blows.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Anyway, I have a general idea what sort of holes you crawled out of. What I want to know is how much influence you have around here.”

“Ow… What do you mean by influence?”

“Exactly what I said. Do you have any clout?”

Rubbing the tops of their heads, the three men answered carefully.

“If we join forces, there aren’t many who could stand against us.”

“Most of our people are spread across separate branch families, but if all our relatives gathered, we could easily make up dozens of tribes and still have people left over.”

“We share every piece of news from across the steppe.”

The old man’s eyes flashed at Chinggen’s final answer.

“Oh? That’s useful.”

Quick to read the situation, Chinggen realized the old man wanted information and immediately answered.

“If you need information, we’ll tell you anything you wish to know.”

“I’m looking for someone. I don’t know exactly where he is, but… he probably isn’t too far away. Can you find him?”

“Yes. If you could describe his appearance or any distinguishing features, it would be even easier.”

“Wait here.”

The old man pulled a crumpled sheet of xuan paper from his robes. A fairly skilled artist appeared to have drawn it, and the face of the person he sought was clearly depicted.

“Will this do?”

Chinggen nodded without hesitation.

“Of course. With a portrait sketch as well, we should be able to start asking around immediately.”

If they sent messengers in all directions and dispatched messenger eagles, they could learn the answer within fifteen days at the longest.

The steppe was vast, but no one could escape the eyes of the nomads.

Besides, every scrap of news about outsiders reaches my ears.

But Chinggen’s confidence faltered at the old man’s next words.

“He’s a Peak master. He primarily uses a sword and palm techniques.”

“…Did you say he’s a Peak master?”

“Why? Doesn’t that make things easier? He’ll stand out wherever he goes, so you should find him quickly.”

Chinggen struggled to speak.

“I-I’m sorry, but if he’s a master of that level, my brothers would have noticed him long ago.”

“Hmm. What do you two think?”

“I oversee a fairly wide territory myself, but I’ve never heard of such a master appearing.”

“If Chinggen cannot find him, then neither can I.”

After receiving similar answers from Black Sand and Temur, who had been sitting quietly with their shoulders hunched, the old man furrowed his brow.

“Damn that bastard. Making an old man go through all this trouble.”

The three men’s ears perked up at the bitterness in his mutter.

What circumstances could have driven an unidentified Supreme Peak master to search for someone personally? Especially while suffering from the infirmities of old age.

His son? Or his Disciple?

Judging by his attitude, the man had to be a blood relative or Disciple…

Black Sand felt his heart pounding. An old man standing at the end of his life was searching for someone while struggling to hold on to a mind that came and went.

Someone he had to meet before he died. A final lingering regret he had to resolve, even if it meant going to such lengths.

Could this be…?

Black Sand’s thoughts raced. Perhaps he could turn the greatest crisis of his life into an opportunity.

His lips parted slightly, and Sound Transmission slipped out.

—Chinggen.

Despite the sudden Sound Transmission, Chinggen showed no reaction. As expected, he was a shrewd one.

—Are you listening? Answer me.

— Accept the old man’s offer. Quickly!

—Impossible. I can’t find the person he wants. If we succeed, we may earn a tremendous favor, but if we raise his hopes for nothing and fail, all we’ll earn is his resentment. I have no intention of taking that risk. Nor do I want to become any more entangled with that old man.

—Find him.

—What?

—If you find him, you can obtain the old man’s martial arts. Martial arts powerful enough to look down upon the entire world!

At that moment, Black Sand was utterly convinced. Whether the person was the old man’s Disciple or his son, they had to find him. If they did…

We could steal not just one city, but the entire world!

He intended to blackmail a Supreme Peak master. Chinggen’s lips trembled slightly as he grasped Black Sand’s meaning.

—Are you insane? Greed has blinded you!

—No, it’s entirely possible. You’re too frightened of that old man to think clearly.

— Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think he’ll fall for a threat like that? He’ll tear us apart before that happens!

—He’s already an old man whose mind comes and goes because of his infirmities. First, we scour the surrounding area and find the bastard. Then we drag things out until the old man loses his mind again.

Even Black Sand thought it was a perfect plan. When the old man’s mind was not clear, he was no different from a child.

They would wait for that moment, then subdue him. Through persuasion and threats, they would steal every bit of that powerful martial arts knowledge.

—What are you hesitating for? Accept already!

That was when an answer came.

“Yes, hurry up and accept. What are you waiting for?”

Black Sand froze.

The old man was staring at him with reddish, glowing eyes. Flames no one could possibly resist streamed from his dark, sunken pupils.

“Are you finished?”

“E-Elder.”

“You aren’t particularly bright, are you? You’ve already made me say the same thing three times.”

Thud.

At that same instant, the old man’s palm pierced Black Sand’s abdomen. Scorching Yang Qi at its utmost burned his organs and seared his blood vessels.

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me elder?”

Thump.

Black Sand collapsed as a charred lump. Chinggen closed his eyes as a voice drier than desert sand bored into his ears.

“I’ll be back in about a month.”

When Chinggen opened his eyes again, the old man was nowhere to be seen.

The old man clicked his tongue.

“Nothing has changed. Absolutely nothing has changed.”

The world he had returned to after so long was still the same. Evil men, righteous men, and those who belonged to neither side were all mixed together.

No matter who lived or died, someone always filled the empty space they left behind. The same was true of those mounted bandits. They had simply been unlucky.

“Speaking of which, the Northern Gaoyuan…”

I certainly came a long way.

Muttering to himself, the old man looked around.

The horizon stretched to the ends of the world. Here, where green grasslands and parched earth existed side by side, there was only one place for him to go.

I’ll leave this area to that nomad bastard and search Shanxi Province myself.

The old man began to walk. With every step, the landscape flashed past and the grasses bowed low.

His stride was leisurely, yet he moved as swiftly as a loosed arrow.

The arrow was bound for Datong, on the border between Shanxi and the Gaoyuan.