Chapter 441: Promotion to Core |
Upon hearing this, Jiang Chen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Senior Brother Qin is missing?”
Zhu Fuxian gave a grim nod. “If his soul lamp hadn’t remained lit, I fear the worst…”
Jiang Chen furrowed his brows. “What exactly happened in the Canglan Sea?”
Who was Qin Hao?
An Earth-grade Golden Core cultivator.
A famously peerless swordsman.
The undisputed number one among the core disciples.
For such a formidable figure to vanish without a trace was unthinkable.
Zhu Fuxian gently shook his head. “The Canglan Sea has devolved into a churning abyss of foul waters, and Mystic Heart City was entirely erased in the blast.
Counting the disciples from other Cultivation sects, the numbers reached into the thousands.
Now, only ten have survived.”
Jiang Chen drew in a sharp breath of cold air.
Thousands of cultivators, and only ten walked away.
Just picturing the sheer scale of the slaughter sent a chill down his spine.
Jiang Chen quickly asked, “Then how many from our Dongting survived?”
Zhu Fuxian raised two weathered fingers. “Two.”
Jiang Chen pressed further, “Is Long Ao among them?”
Zhu Fuxian nodded. “Long Ao is one of them.”
Hearing that Long Ao was safe, Jiang Chen breathed a sigh of relief before asking, “Who is the other?”
Zhu Fuxian pointed toward Wind Cliff. “The Feng Clan, Feng Lie!”
Jiang Chen blinked in surprise. “Both are core disciples from Iron Blood Peak.”
Zhu Fuxian tapped his knuckles against the wooden table. “However, that is not why I called you here.”
Jiang Chen was taken aback. “Then what is it?”
Zhu Fuxian’s expression turned grave. “With so many core disciples dead and Qin Hao missing, the immortal peaks are in desperate need of new talent.
Therefore, the Master of Cultivation wants you to ascend the mountain.”
Jiang Chen did not hesitate. “I am doing just fine tending the Spirit Farm. I have no desire to climb that mountain.”
A faint smile touched Zhu Fuxian’s lips. “I know how you think. After discussing it with the Master of Cultivation, we decided you could simply hold the title of a core disciple for now, allowing you to collect the extra resources.
Whenever you feel like ascending the mountain, you can do so.”
Jiang Chen rubbed his calloused hands together, a shameless grin breaking out. “How could I possibly impose?”
Zhu Fuxian smoothly shifted the subject. “However, to become a core disciple, you must first take a master.”
Jiang Chen stroked his chin. “Then I will take you as my master.”
Although the two of them shared the same cultivation realm.
Their temperaments and interests were remarkably similar.
More importantly, they both preferred the quiet dirt of the Spirit Farm over the lofty peaks.
This way, they could look out for one another. It seemed like a perfect arrangement.
However, Zhu Fuxian waved his hand, shutting the idea down. “Not me.”
Jiang Chen stared at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t want me?”
Zhu Fuxian hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “It is not that I do not want you, but…”
Jiang Chen blinked, venturing a guess. “It couldn’t be the Master of Cultivation, could it?”
Zhu Fuxian gave a firm nod. “Correct. It is that old fellow.”
Jiang Chen shifted awkwardly, a knot of complicated emotions tangling in his chest.
Becoming the Master of Cultivation’s disciple was akin to ascending the heavens in a single bound.
Yet he had never even met the man, let alone understood his temperament.
Seeing his silence, Zhu Fuxian sighed and spoke the bitter truth. “If I cannot break through to the Nascent Soul stage, I will not live for many more years. Taking you as a disciple would only drag you down.
Unlike that old fellow. He has already reached Nascent Soul Perfection and can live for at least another two thousand years.”
Jiang Chen’s eyes instantly reddened. “Senior Brother Zhu!”
Zhu Fuxian merely waved it off with an indifferent smile. “Alright, alright, there is no need for tears. This old man has long since made peace with life and death.”
For a long moment, Jiang Chen could not find the words to speak.
The joy of becoming a core disciple had completely vanished, replaced by a heavy, suffocating sorrow.
The truth hung heavy in the air-Zhu Fuxian was nearing the end of his lifespan.
Even if it was a natural death, the impending loss was a bitter pill to swallow.
They had shared so many jars of wine and quiet evenings by the fields; he had foolishly thought those days would last forever.
…
…
Two days later, Jiang Chen stood atop Shattered Moon Flowing Frost, tearing through the clouds and soaring straight into the heavens.
Since the decision was made, he had no choice but to visit Green Wood Peak and see it for himself.
Compared to the rugged Vajra Peak and the heavy Thick Earth Peak, Green Wood Peak was entirely unique.
Rather than a mountain peak, it was a colossal tree rooted in the firmament itself.
Towering nearly a thousand zhang high, its emerald bark shimmered with a rich, lustrous sheen.
Dense, silver-green life lines pulsed across the wood like the veins of a newborn leaf, each glowing with microscopic specks of starlight.
Its canopy was impossibly lush, every inch radiating an ancient, spiritual charm.
The heart-shaped leaves possessed the creamy texture of congealed jade, their edges traced with faint, glowing gold.
From the tip of every leaf hung a drop of crystal-clear spiritual dew, refracting a brilliant seven-colored halo.
From afar, the entire structure resembled a magnificent, unfurled umbrella shielding the heavens.
The massive branches twitched rhythmically, as if the tree itself were breathing or drinking from the void.
Even before Jiang Chen drew near, a suffocatingly rich wave of Wood Spirit Qi washed over him.
It felt like sinking into a warm, medicinal spring, soothing the fatigue from his very bones.
Miraculously, the great tree had no visible entrance; its canopy formed an impenetrable wall of foliage.
Only when Jiang Chen retrieved his Spirit Cultivator Envoy token and channeled his Wood-attribute Magic Power into it did the leaves rustle and part, revealing a singular, winding passage into the canopy.
As he flew inside, he curiously surveyed his surroundings.
He noticed that many of the colossal leaves had been hollowed and woven into elegant dwellings.
Unsurprisingly, these were the residences of the disciples who cultivated on Green Wood Peak.
By sect rules, only core disciples were permitted to ascend the mountain.
In practice, however, the personal disciples of those core disciples were also allowed to live here.
It was a blatant exploitation of a loophole, but no one cared enough to enforce the rules.
The entirety of Green Wood Peak was divided into distinct domains.
The Qionxin Domain at the absolute peak, reserved for the Peak Master.
The Sanxiu Domain along the primary branches, housing the Deputy Peak Masters and Elders.
The Cuiwei Domain in the middle canopy, where the core disciples cultivated.
And the Qingya Domain in the lower boughs, home to the disciples of the core disciples.
Before long, Jiang Chen arrived at a sprawling, plaza-like clearing. Beneath his boots lay an impossibly wide green leaf, branching off into several different pathways.
Since the Master of Cultivation was the Peak Master, his residence lay at the very top in the Qionxin Domain.
Jiang Chen located the correct passage. The moment his foot touched the path, a brilliant cyan light enveloped his body.
In the blink of an eye, he was transformed into a streak of flowing light, shooting upward through the branches.
Despite the immense vertical distance, the journey took only a fraction of a second.
When his vision cleared, he stood within the Qionxin Domain.
The Wood Spirit Qi here was so dense it bordered on liquid.
Glowing life lines pulsed across every surface, exhaling wisps of pale green spiritual mist into the air.
Directly ahead stood a magnificent emerald palace-Qionxin Hall.
Thick spiritual vines formed its pillars, while overlapping precious leaves served as its roof.
Velvety green moss carpeted the floors, and platforms of congealed dew shimmered in the ambient light.
The moment Jiang Chen materialized, the surrounding runic patterns flared to life, pulsing with a silent warning.
A moment later, a young girl came bounding out from the hall.
She appeared to be no older than fifteen or sixteen.
Her face was round and flushed, resembling a tender spring apple.
Her eyes were exceptionally bright, the outer corners tilting upward in a natural, fox-like curve.
Her skin lacked the pale refinement of most cultivators, bearing instead a healthy, sun-kissed golden hue.
Her double buns were tied haphazardly; the left bun tilted half a cun to the side, while a stray lock of black hair dangled from the right.
She wore a simple green gauze dress that draped elegantly over her frame, revealing a delicate collarbone.
A rough straw rope was tied around her waist, from which dangled a carved wooden whistle and a Storage Bag.
She was entirely barefoot, her delicate feet adorned only by a pair of woven vine anklets.
She stopped and stared at the utterly ordinary-looking man before her, her eyes brimming with curiosity, before calling out in a crisp, clear voice, “Who goes there!”
