Chapter 934: Hate the Flowing Water

"How can a ghost compare to an immortal talent?" The actor's voice still echoed in the air. Li Zhouwei stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his index finger tapping on his other wrist, seemingly matching the rhythm of the pipa below.

The middle-aged man below narrowed his phoenix eyes slightly, a faint smile gracing his lips. He remained silent, but his hands, initially clasped behind his back, moved forward. With one hand, he untied the gourd from his waist.

The gourd was small and charming; it was unclear whether it contained wine or some other brew. The middle-aged man held it in his hand, took a sip, while his other hand rested on his hip, his index finger on the hilt of the central one among six small swords.

This relaxed posture made him resemble a minor official from a neighboring town, one who had perhaps grown a few vegetables, completed his duties, and tilled his land, now strolling leisurely to enjoy a performance.

Li Zhouwei, however, did not relax in the slightest.

In his golden eyes, the person before him was imbued with five terrifying streams of colorful light, like a hidden dragon in an abyss, dormant within the deep, dark Void. These lights were settled in his flawless dharma body, perfectly complete and harmoniously integrated.

"A Great Master… a Great Master of the Rainbow Haze lineage! A grand cultivator with perfected divine abilities!"

When cultivators in Jiangnan celebrated their divine abilities, they often spoke of achieving the Five Methods. Older and more distinguished ones would also refer to the complete mastery of the Five Methods, which allowed one to avoid great calamities – this was the first step towards ascending to an enlightened state, precisely the perfected divine abilities achieved by the person before him!

This was undoubtedly the highest cultivation below a True Monarch in the current era. Those of the Purple Mansion realm who could attain this state and still move freely in the world were exceedingly rare. Even within the Solar Dao lineage, only two of the "Three Primes and Two Purples" had achieved it. Currently, the only one explicitly known to possess perfected divine abilities was the rumored Zi Mu, whose whereabouts remained a mystery. Outside the Solar Dao lineage, there was also Jiang Boqing, a figure from an unknown number of years ago.

As for others, whether it was the earlier Chi Wei or the later Si Boxiu, they only completed the five great divine abilities when their lives were nearing their end. The efficacy of their supplementary or substitute methods, and whether they could truly claim perfection, remained known only to themselves.

A peak Purple Mansion cultivator with perfected divine abilities and a long, leisurely lifespan, able to walk freely among mortals, was something the Li family had never encountered; this was the first. The last person known to possess perfected divine abilities and move with such freedom was now True Monarch Yuzhen Liujiu Hexu, one of the Three Witches and Two Priests, a figure revered on a divine altar!

And given the "Rainbow Haze" characteristic, which family could it be?

Luoxia Mountain!

"Being a ghost… could this be related to the Underworld?… Regardless of the Underworld's intentions toward Li Qianyuan, why would they support me? They only wish for more people to break through to True Monarch, simply to leave behind some Golden Essence for them!"

He had been cultivating on the North Shore when he suddenly felt an inexplicable pull, as if his destiny was drawing him. Simultaneously, a persistent chill within the ascending yang gave him a sense of imminent danger, compelling him to rise on the wind and silently follow the summons.

Although he had known the other party would come—Tian Huo of the Golden Feather Sect had even subtly reminded him that a distinguished guest was traveling south, asking if he truly needed to stay here—now that he saw him, he realized what an immensely powerful figure he was!

"Is he here specifically for me, or merely passing by to observe?"

"What's the meaning behind this leisurely pace? How long has it been since I reached the Purple Mansion realm! At the speed of my divine abilities, I could have traveled to the ends of the earth and back several times! If Luoxia truly intends for me to remain inland and break through under his watchful eye, why is he dragging his feet?"

"It seems as if he's eager for me to leave, yet he's clearly reluctant. Seeing that I'm not departing, he's just stopping by. But what consequences would there be if I actually fled overseas?"

His expression was grim, his golden eyes fixed intently forward. His thoughts churned, constantly shifting and fluctuating.

"To send out just one person who is a Great Master with perfected divine abilities… exactly how many Great Masters and True Monarchs does Luoxia possess?"

The Lique Guest House was unusually noisy, but his thoughts and mind remained exceptionally calm. Beside him, Li Zhouluo was drenched in cold sweat.

Li Zhouwei, having inexplicably arrived at this building using his divine abilities and then secretly arranged for the two of them to be picked up first, was undoubtedly acting unusually.

For a Purple Mansion realm cultivator to be stirred into action, there must be a divine ability concealed here!

He had no choice but to set down his chopsticks, exchange a glance with Li Jiangzong, and quietly rise. The manager of the Lique Guest House, who should have been attending them, was now nowhere to be seen. Li Zhouluo secretly breathed a sigh of relief. The two of them feigned having business elsewhere and quietly descended the stairs.

The most conspicuous seats in the entire establishment were in the very center, where every movement would normally draw attention. Yet, at this moment, it seemed the actor's performance was so captivating that no one noticed only two empty seats remained.

Li Zhouwei subtly raised his head, listening to the performer above pleading with the heavens, hoping for the return of his clansmen, singing:

"Bones abound, frozen blood in spring. A stream of crimson tears drifts halfway down the river, I am a lone ghost… Oh, my father and brothers! Where have the old days gone? My spirit remains chilled… My body is like withered wood without roots, even tattered clothes offer no protection. What a desolate soul I am…"

The middle-aged man listened, sighing silently. On stage, two more performers in splendid attire appeared, with white silk draped around their waists, symbolizing flight through clouds and mist. They sang:

"Inviting immortal peaks, seated on a golden terrace, beholding the parting glow of the heavens as the clouds fade, resplendent snow candles and shimmering spiritual robes. Are all earthly matters settled? Alas, I am no drifting cloud. My attendant, a colt from Qilin Hoof Mountain, gazes upon the refined elegance from the mystic window below. Oh, my disciples! How did you become ghosts?!"

Li Zhouwei listened to this part, and his hand, previously resting on his wrist, stilled. He remained silent, but those around him began to exclaim, their words touching upon immortals and ghosts. Someone even sighed:

"If one doesn't seek immortals, what's the point of living?!"

Amidst the chatter, the old man who had played the demonic ghost reappeared on stage, menacingly tempting the audience:

"Build emerald palaces, pave jade towers, light reflecting blood on the forehead of the ghost wind. Three Palace Halls, bright moon rain—cultivate your nature and you can become a golden rainbow. If there's a path to immortality, would it truly be granted to you? I fear it's merely—windy branches disrupting the flute, and drooling dragons perfuming themselves."

The play had surely reached its climax at this point. People on both sides craned their necks, their gazes fixed intently on the stage, partly worried that the performers would be swayed by the demonic ghost, and partly fearing that the immortal beings would be disappointed and abandon them.

The performer immediately began to wail, with both sides taking turns on stage. The higher the tune, the more the atmosphere in the hall was heightened to its extreme. Everyone stopped drinking and laid down their chopsticks, motionless and silent, gazing intently at the stage.

Li Zhouwei's expression gradually grew complex. As he shifted his gaze to the middle-aged man below the stage, the man was no longer fully absorbed. He turned his face slightly, revealing his dignified and upright countenance.

And those phoenix eyes bridged the distance between them, quietly gazing across.

From his originally brown pupils, streaks of colorful light erupted, like a vast, surging vortex of rosy mist, swirling within his eyes. In that instant, the distance between the two seemed both as vast as the horizon and as close as right before them.

"A sword…"

Li Zhouwei felt a piercing sharpness emanating from his pupils that made his eyes ache. Though it was held in reserve, it seemed capable of ascending to the distant heavens at any moment. This sharpness lurked within the rosy light, like a dragon floating on water, revealing only a scale or a claw.

The Li family had risen as a clan of sword immortals, possessing not only a sword manual that protected their family's destiny but also numerous ancestors highly accomplished in swordsmanship. Li Zhouwei was naturally well-versed in such matters. With just this glance, he detected a profound sense of anomaly.

"Not sword intent… it's a different manifestation of sword, yet still a sword… a sword of Dao cultivation, a sword of magical techniques, a sword of divine abilities."

Li Zhouwei knew that Li Xizhi possessed a renowned magical sword technique, the Five-Colored Profound Sword Art, which was also connected to rosy light!

"Perhaps this magical sword technique has been cultivated to an extremely profound level, allowing the essence of the sword to be hidden within divine abilities, so that wherever the divine abilities extend, the brilliance of the magical sword appears!"

And this expanse of rainbow sword energy also evoked a profound, life-threatening sense of danger from the depths of his heart, making him assess in an instant:

"This sword is certainly no less potent than ordinary sword intent, and its power is immeasurable… Luoxia Mountain… I fear… neither Chi Wei nor Jiang Boqing would be his match. Even Duanmu Kui, who once dominated an era… was no more formidable than this!"

That swirling vortex of rainbow sword energy seemed like an illusion, appearing only for a fleeting moment before vanishing, revealing the other's brown pupils. This Great Master with perfected Purple Mansion divine abilities showed no other abnormalities, merely gazing calmly at the golden eyes hidden in the pavilion.

The surrounding cheers roared like waves, yet the two seemed severed from this world and time, forming their own isolated space, locking everything into that single moment of intense gaze.

Yet, a melodious, lingering, and captivating singing voice echoed softly in his ears:

"Beautiful youths of Long County, with jade hairpins and elegant robes, accumulating through dynasties. They obtained the Pengming Sea, occupied the Phoenix Pond. If not for a single family dominating the county… how could ten generations perish? Immortals are not revered, gods are difficult to respect. No need for ghosts or monsters to exert effort; without you! How can the disciples of a single clan survive?"

At this instant, Li Zhouwei slightly lowered his brows. The Huayang King's Axe at his waist appeared a heavy, dull gold in the shadows. The cheers in the building grew louder, like a landslide or a tsunami.

"Pingjin crosses Penglai, as the morning light first descends. One hundred and twenty layers of sword ropes bind, the Qilin grieves leaving its homeland. Yet, as long as the position has a master, who cannot sit upon it? The old father yearns to slay his son, but alas, the immortal guards the Spring Terrace… If not for the flying clouds observing from above, how many would remain in the county!"

Li Zhouwei's pupils widened slightly. His hands rested on the railing. The expression in his eyes grew even more solemn, causing the golden hue to brighten. He squinted his eyes, still remaining silent.

"The old father wishes to slay his son…"

In his ears, Qing Yuyuan's light, airy voice and chilling words resurfaced:

"Son slays father, father kills son, father takes son's beloved, son seizes father's power…"

"If the son is strong and the father weak, why would he not seize his position?… But if Mingyang detests rebellion, why would he not fear his own son!"

A cold glint flashed in Li Zhouwei's eyes; he seemed to grasp many things in an instant. However, the middle-aged man before him slowly shifted his gaze to the other side.

His gaze was like a sharp sword, cleaving through seas and cutting through waves, compelling one to follow it, ignoring all the surrounding noise and distractions, until it settled upon a small table in a more peripheral area.

This small table, merely two feet square, was considered a very cheap spot in the Lique Guest House. A white-robed young man sat beside it, holding a small cup in one hand and chopsticks in the other, contemplating a small dish on his table.

On the small dish were two very thick slices of pickled radish, making it difficult for him to pick them up with chopsticks. He turned them over and over with his chopsticks, seemingly pondering their purpose.

As the middle-aged man looked over, he simply laid down his chopsticks and raised his head, revealing a coolly beautiful face, delicate as a woman's, with black hair cascading like a waterfall, serene as ice.

His appearance was handsome, and his limbs were no different from an ordinary person's. However, he had a single ear growing on each cheek, pointed and long, extending along the curve of his jawline to the back of his existing ears. This immediately transformed his demeanor, making him appear cool and strangely captivating.

Although he made no movement, a faint circle of colorful light shimmered behind his head, radiating circularly, appearing and disappearing, which greatly diminished his demonic aura and instead made him appear sacred.

Compared to the other man's relaxed demeanor, his expression was cold, even somewhat solemn.

But precisely as he raised his head, all extraneous sounds vanished. The entire Lique Guest House fell silent. The surroundings transformed into a frozen tableau of human activities: some craned their necks and shouted, some shook their heads and sighed, some whispered, some commented loudly—but all were frozen in place like sculptures. Meat held by chopsticks hung in mid-air, wine being poured was suspended like crystal, and even spittle was fixed in the air, solidified and unmoving.

Yet the performers on stage were completely unaware, acting with increasing ease. The pre-prepared golden flowers and colorful silks showered down, symbolizing blessings from immortals and the retreat of demonic spirits. The character finally ascended to immortality, and the surrounding performers all bowed in reverence.

"Receive the immortal rank, be bathed in divine light, truly accept the immortal's reward. Yang haze and dragon banners unfurl, grand music and cloud winds soar. For half an incense stick's time, bells ring and heads bow. A single immortal is the truest!"

A hint of an amused smile appeared on the face of this Great Master with perfected divine abilities, as if he was remarking on the other's overreaction. He had a greater interest in the actors on stage and was immediately disturbed by the sudden stillness, turning his head back.

But he looked at the stage, regretfully noting that the performance was ending. He softly praised it a couple of times, re-hung the gourd on his waist, dusted off his sleeves, and dispelled any trace of the mundane from his presence, then offered Li Zhouwei a faint smile.

The next instant, that seat was empty. There wasn't a trace of anyone.

Li Zhouwei immediately shifted his gaze. The table in the corner was also empty; even the wine had been taken, leaving only two slices of radish.

"Bravo!"

Someone's cheer broke the profound silence throughout the entire building. In an instant, the entire establishment shifted from stillness to lively motion. The suspended wine fell back into cups, the meat held by chopsticks finally entered mouths, and an endless clamor erupted!

"Bravo!"

The clinking sound of copper coins rang out as people on both sides began to go on stage to give tips. After an unknown period, people crowded around the actors and exited. The clamor subsided slightly, and the entire building suddenly dimmed.

But the man in scaled armor at the highest point still stood quietly in place. As everything dimmed, only his golden eyes still gleamed in the darkness, instilling a profound chill in anyone who saw them.

The entire building suddenly quieted, so silent that no sound could be heard. The black-clad man came up from below, fearfully approaching Li Zhouwei, and knelt first, respectfully saying:

"Master…"

Li Zhouwei's expression was unreadable, but his speech was much slower as he said gravely:

"What play was that?"

As he spoke, Chen Yang buried his head even lower:

"It's 'Regret for Flowing Water'…"