Chapter 548: Old Friend

Lijing Town.

Lijing Town is now the largest town by the lake, surpassing even Milin Town, the center of Milin Prefecture. The latter had been ravaged, and the Li family, instead of enforcing Milin's prefecture system, divided the area into several smaller towns for governance. With a more dispersed population, it could no longer compare to Lijing Town.

The area around the tavern was bustling with noise, and people came and went on the pale red wooden stairs. On the topmost floor sat a monk, his head cleanly shaven, his eyes quietly fixed on a wine cup.

Those who could afford to drink and enjoy themselves here were not ordinary people; most were descendants of influential families. Several guests frequently cast glances, their hearts filled with dread. After a quarter of an hour, the scattered guests hastily finished their banquets and hurried away.

The tavern immediately emptied, and pedestrians in the vicinity also became scarce. Cultivators in white armor gradually appeared among the crowd. Li Chenghuai arrived with his people, reaching the base of the tavern, and without hesitation, quickly ascended.

The Li family was currently undergoing many transfers, resulting in numerous vacancies. His cultivation and age were gradually becoming sufficient, so he worked under his clan brother, Li Chengliao. As Li Xizhi's direct son, Li Chengliao often relied on him in all matters.

But as soon as he entered the building, he was quickly stopped by a middle-aged man in white. His face was somewhat handsome, yet he exuded the calmness of middle age, with an imposing presence and a solemn expression. He said softly, "Young Master, as a descendant of Qingdu, it is not appropriate for you to personally approach. I will go up and meet him."

This person was An Siwei. Behind him, Chen Yang, dressed in black, had slightly short brows, and a faint unease and suspicion flickered in his eyes. Li Chenghuai cupped his hands and nodded, and the two then went forward.

Stepping over the vermilion stairs, the monk was sitting at a table filled with good wine and meat. It seemed as if they were all taken from the hastily departed neighboring tables, appearing a bit disheveled. He didn't speak, just picked through the food with his chopsticks, staring blankly.

Seeing the two ascend, An Siwei cupped his hands and said softly, "Greetings, Master! I am An Siwei of the Li clan… May I ask, Master…"

The monk's eyebrows were slightly short. Although his face was clean and bright and his hair completely shaven, a hint of resolute temperament was still discernible. He gently tapped two pairs of jade chopsticks together and spoke, "An Siwei of the Li clan… quite capable…"

His voice was hoarse, yet it held a subtle, concealed chill. An Siwei, hearing this nonsensical reply, grew suspicious and said gravely, "Siwei is indeed dull and cannot comprehend your Zen words. What does Master mean by that…?"

The monk poured wine and replied in a low voice, "It was once said that Li Tongya and Li Xuanxuan had wolfish ambitions. I never believed it, but looking at the outcome, it might not be unbelievable after all."

The wine in the jade cup clinked crisply. An Siwei discerned the disrespect, feeling quite displeased, and simply replied, "It seems Master has heard something… But after all, circumstances change and destiny shifts; it's not something a single judgment can conclude."

Hearing the words "heaven's will," the monk sneered and asked, "What is An Jingming to you?"

An Siwei's expression gradually darkened. After a moment's pause, he finally replied, "He is indeed my late elder brother."

No sooner had he finished speaking than all three felt a cold wind whip past, rustling. A young man in white appeared in the building, his sword-like eyebrows slightly raised. He said softly, "I am Li Xijun, greetings, Master."

Although the Li family was not Buddhist or Daoist, they could still gauge the opponent's approximate strength. Li Xijun felt that this person's presence was profound and quite threatening, and he grew somewhat wary.

The monk sat upright and still, and replied hoarsely, "Xumu of Wumu Temple, greetings, fellow Daoist."

'It's him...' Li Xijun found him familiar. A few days ago, two people had been captured, and Daoist Fu Yuan from Xiaoshi Mountain was influenced by Wumu Compassion and intentionally released by this master to gather information.

He mentioned the master's name, Xumu. Li Xijun said with a slight chill in his voice, "Master truly has excellent methods, able to spy by borrowing the body of a cultivator…"

Xumu waved his hand dismissively and replied softly, "It's just a small trick."

He stared at Li Xijun's eyes and brows for a moment, as if recalling something, and then said, "I have an item deposited with your esteemed clan, and I wish to see Li Xuanxuan… I wonder if he is still alive?"

Li Xijun was silent for a moment, then waved his hand towards An Siwei, who quickly left for Qingdu. Master Xumu pointed to the opposite seat and smiled, "Xijun, please take a seat first."

Xumu then continued, "I also heard Li Tongya's name in the North, what great deeds he accomplished… It's a pity he later perished. Grudges and favors, in the end, it all comes to naught, doesn't it?"

Li Xijun was wary of any hidden meaning in his words and did not readily reply. Xumu, to himself, took out a bronze sword from his sleeve, its cold light illuminating his face brightly. He said softly, "When I was young, I also crossed paths with him. This old monk had a secular name back then."

He flipped the sword over and said softly, "Yumu Sword."

In an instant, the tavern became so quiet that a pin drop could be heard. The atmosphere grew serene yet eerie. Chen Yang stood by, feeling the hair on his body stand on end, as if he were on the edge of a blade, caught between advancing and retreating.

Li Xijun's expression was calm. With one hand resting on his sword, he said softly, "So it is you, Senior."

Xumu did not reply, and the atmosphere grew somber once more.

"Creak." Just then, an old man hurriedly came up. Li Xuanxuan was carrying a spiritual artifact axe that hadn't been used in decades, his robes somewhat disheveled, and he simply stared at the two.

"Clang!" Li Xijun had already drawn his sword, its long blade pointing diagonally at the ground, shielding the old man behind him. With his other hand, he had already crushed a jade stone, his eyes fixed intently on the monk before him.

Xumu sighed and replied, "Long time no see… Fellow Daoist Xuanxuan."

"You are…" Li Xuanxuan was stunned by this. He stared at the monk's eyes and brows, examining them carefully twice. These eyes and brows seemed somewhat familiar. After two careful searches in his memory, they finally overlapped with those of a certain cultivator.

A fright gripped his heart, and his lips trembled slightly, "You… you actually returned!"

"That which advances sharply retreats swiftly. Before the keen blade is drawn, it must be hidden." Xumu sat quietly, gazing at the bronze sword. The cold, bright gleam shone on his clean, pale face, and his voice was hoarse:

"In my youth, I lightly used my edge in all things, angrily left my clan, went to the northern frontiers, killed demonic cultivators, forged sword techniques, walked thousands of miles, and crossed the Taihang Mountains."

"With one sentiment entrusted to the sword, everything else turned to naught. So, looking back a hundred years, my eldest brother exhausted his thoughts and efforts, perishing with his clan; my second brother, to contain fierce enemies, was exposed and self-immolated; and my youngest brother, seeking immortality to preserve his life, was harmed by enemies…"

At this moment, hair slowly began to grow on Xumu's head. His physique also gradually became much more robust, as if he had regained the demeanor of Yumu Sword from back then. Yet, in his eyes, there was only the sword in his hand.

"What Senior Tongya said, Xumu has pondered for so many years. Now, believing himself ready, he has returned to retrieve his sword."

"Crack." Gloomy white mist erupted from his five orifices and swept through the tavern. The wooden stairs sprouted branches and then rapidly decayed. The steamed chicken on the table struggled twice, grew feathers, cried out twice in the white mist, and then dissolved into dust.

The surging white mist rushed towards them. Li Xijun drew his sword and swept it, lifting the two men and sending them out of the tavern. Chen Yang, being further away, merely grazed the edge of the white mist, and a few threads fell from the hem of his gray robe.

While Yumu Sword was speaking, white mist had already erupted. The white mist from his five orifices gradually ceased, but white mist continued to pour out from under his robes. He said coldly, "I wonder how much of Li Tongya's true legacy Xijun has inherited."

Li Xijun sheathed his sword, formed a hand seal, and stabilized the surging white mist. He said calmly, "There are many mortals here, Master. Please come with me to the lake to contend."

Yumu Sword squinted slightly, drew his sword, and took a step. In an instant, he appeared above the lake. Li Xijun followed with a step, also appearing, and ice and snow began to fall from the sky.

Yumu Sword inverted his bronze sword and placed it at his waist. This bronze sword was smooth and rugged, without a sharp edge or blade, shimmering with a dull yellow glow. White mist swarmed onto the sword, gathering into a vast, rolling white expanse like flowing water. He said, "This sword is called Tongzang. It is forged from copper from Yanshan, water from Biaoming Mountain in the North Sea, and fire from Cituo Mountain in Yinghua Commandery…"

Li Xijun lowered his sword-like eyebrows, watching him carefully, his heart sinking slightly: "This sword is truly peculiar… I wonder if I can defeat it. Qingdu Mountain is a Foundation Establishment array. Even if he goes berserk, at least the younger generation will be safe."

He kept his hand on his sword and replied, "My sword is called Hanlin."

Yumu Sword suddenly drew his sword. In an instant, white mist, like a vast sea or surging waves, spread across the lake like a white curtain. A cold light, sharp as a blade, whistled, heavy with immense power.

This white blade flew across the lake, seemingly slow but actually fast. It made the lake water churn and caused a suffocating feeling in people's hearts. Li Xijun immediately unleashed the Tujun Kuiguang, which he had prepared for a long time.

He joined two fingers, and dozens of streams of white mist burst forth. The Kuiguang shimmered, transforming into continuous, fine, pine-needle-like cold snow mixed with wind. They gathered into a single stream and rushed towards the white mist.

As soon as Li Xijun finished casting his spell, he did not wait for the result but immediately drew his sword. The slender blade danced with intense, snow-white light. The phenomena around him had been completely swept away, but now snow began to fall slowly again.

The arc of the Moon Gate Sword glowed brightly for an instant, cutting a path through the surging white mist like a sea or waves. Yumu Sword saw it clearly, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He stepped forward and swung his sword again.

At this moment, a light suddenly shone brightly overhead. Dazzling brilliant light flowed downwards. Yumu Sword's heart subtly skipped a beat as this bright color emerged, and white stone bricks rapidly condensed, fitting together tightly, transforming into a massive gate of a mountain pass.

"Where did this villain come from! Such audacity!" The towering city gate had two white gateposts carved with numerous patterns, displaying mysterious shamanistic curses, and its eaves were sharply pointed. Standing atop it was a young man in a Daoist robe, cursing with both shock and anger.

He had no choice but to look up and draw his sword. Within the city gate, brilliant light glittered, hazy and indistinct, as if facing a scorching sun. It drew the white mist from the air, and its radiance stung his face.

Li Ximing was indeed both shocked and enraged. He had been in seclusion cultivating for many years, knowing that his family's conscription by Qingchi was not easy, and he had kept an occasional watch. Li Xijun had also long prepared a method to summon him.

Now, awakened for the first time by Li Xijun's method, he hastily emerged. His first glance showed white mist churning over the lake, and a Buddhist cultivator drawing a sword to kill his own younger brother. Rage surged within him, giving rise to a full murderous intent.

He simply circulated the surging cultivation in his qi sea, activating it without regard for depletion. Every pure white brick in Huangyuan Pass emitted light, and the white light within the pass was even more dazzling, illuminating everything brightly. Yumu Sword, suddenly attacked, remained unhurried and simply reached out.

Immediately, he pulled a long piece of cloth from his sleeve and shook it in the air. A sheet of golden runes fell out, all shaped like tadpoles, lingering faintly in the air, combining to form a golden shield that protected him within.

Most Buddhist cultivators' methods were difficult to discern. Li Ximing couldn't tell for a moment whether this method was a magical artifact or a spell. He simply had a thought and sent Huangyuan Pass pressing down.

"Rumble!" The gleaming white pass crashed down. Yumu Sword dodged twice but found it difficult to escape. Huangyuan Pass pressed directly onto the golden shield. Brilliant light circulated, and the power of suppression began to operate. The golden light and brilliant light collided, emitting hissing white mist.

Li Xijun, on his side, had already broken free from the white mist. He stirred up a sheet of pure white, fiercely swirling. His long sword flicked back, sending out three nimble and cunning white lights that disappeared into the white mist.

Yumu Sword had just resisted Li Ximing's Bright Pass, pausing for a brief moment. The runes on his body clanged. Only then could he free his hands to resist the erosion. Halfway through forming his hand seal, he had to frown and stop.

He swept away the white mist in front of him with his sleeve. With two fingers, he forcibly caught a streak of light. This white sword light struggled continuously in his hand, emitting piercing friction sounds.

Before he could react, his other hand again pulled back, drawing away another streak of light. Only then did he have a chance to draw the bronze sword from his waist. White mist surged, blasting open these two streaks of light.

When he retracted his original hand, there was already a small hole on the back of his hand. Yumu Sword paid no mind. He withdrew his hand and lightly wiped, sealing the bleeding hole.

"Good!" Instead of anger, joy filled him. Seeing this set of sword techniques, his eyes erupted with surprise and delight, and his face was full of joy as he sighed, "Excellent sword techniques! Excellent method! Truly an ingenious idea! Unconstrained by form, as if from beyond the heavens… You haven't grasped the true essence yet; if the creator of these sword techniques were to wield them, those three streaks of light would probably make me spin in circles!"

He mumbled with delight. But with this struggle, the golden light protecting him flickered erratically. Huangyuan Pass specialized in suppression and grinding; in an instant, it could turn gold into sand, its power not to be underestimated.

Although Li Ximing did not possess outstanding spells or combat experience, his current cultivation technique was a genuine fifth-grade technique. When a late Foundation Establishment cultivator unleashed their full power with ferocity, solely in terms of the immortal foundation's suppressive ability, it was no different from the outstanding direct descendants of the Three Sects. Even Yumu Sword had to temporarily set aside his distracted thoughts, a look of surprise appearing on his face.

He knew his own business best. His Golden Rune Shield was no ordinary spell; it was one of Wumu Temple's top-tier spells, nurtured for decades, and ordinarily, Foundation Establishment cultivators would find it difficult to shake. Yet, it was struggling after only a few breaths.

He simply freed his hands, causing white light to appear. With one hand, he propped up the Bright Pass. With the other hand, he drew out a golden rune, formed a hand seal, cast a spell, and said, "Empty prison case, fulfill human sentiments…"

After uttering the spell, he strained with the hand supporting the Bright Pass, symbolically shaking the pass. With a light step, he actually escaped from underneath, appearing ten paces away.

The golden shield on his body rapidly brightened, slowly returning to its original color. Yet, behind him, snow began to fall profusely. The pure white snowflakes collectively shifted one inch horizontally, bringing forth an intensely pure white color. A bright, snow-white sword light flew up, directly piercing his back.