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墨書 Inktalez
It was time to leave. Gu Ping watched Liu Donghui depart and, with a hint of urgency, spoke to Ancient Words, though there was an unmistakable tone of despair in his voice.
Ancient Words began to gather their belongings, moving benches and other items onto the cart. Chu Liange also put away her needlework and followed Ancient Words to the cart. Both of them understood the gravity of the situation Gu Ping was facing; they knew they were not much help in this dire moment.
As Ancient Words was about to step into the cart, he couldn't help but pat Gu Ping on the shoulder. Gu Ping noticed the calluses on his legs, the roughness of his palms and joints—those legs did not seem like they belonged to a person who could endure such hardship.
"It’s my fault," Ancient Words said, shaking his head as he looked at Gu Ping. Although he didn’t know what Gu Ping was going through, he felt that at least he was a good person.
Gu Ping thought for a moment, forcing a smile that barely lifted the corners of his mouth. He knew his expression must look terrible, but there was nothing he could do; he truly couldn’t muster a genuine smile. Fear loomed behind him, and dread settled over him like a heavy cloud. If disaster truly struck, no amount of preparation would save him from collapsing in an instant.
But what did it matter? Gu Ping desperately wanted help; he longed for someone to assist him, yet there was no one around. This sense of helplessness was perhaps what it meant to be truly lost.
"No, I was wrong," Ancient Words said, pointing at Gu Ping's heart and then at the sky above. "I realize now that everything I do is being watched by that sky. It seems to mock me for my efforts without reward. But one day, Heaven will repay me for what I have given; I just need to keep doing what I can."
Gu Ping didn’t understand why Ancient Words believed such things, but in his tone, there was no hint of jest. The seriousness in Ancient Words' voice made Gu Ping realize that he truly believed those words—as if they were some kind of faith—expressing that in Heaven, everyone is treated fairly.
"Is it really like that?" Gu Ping asked. Ancient Words did not respond; instead, he withdrew his hand from Gu Ping's shoulder and stepped into the cart.
Gu Ping cracked the whip over the horses and began to move along the wide road ahead slowly. He needed time to think about how he could escape this predicament.
According to Liu Donghui's information, the people pursuing Gu Ping had left Tuan City three days ago. Based on previous reports about Wei Wuyou’s speed—traveling day and night from Liu Xia Imperial Capital to Tuan City—it seemed they might have already crossed into Liu Xia Dynasty territory by now. Where could they be?
The ancient city marked the northwestern border of Liu Xia. Just thirty miles beyond its walls lay territory outside Liu Xia Dynasty's domain—territory belonging to Dongtang.
The ancient city, as the name suggests, is an old fortress. The term "ancient city" has become a common phrase in various countries. If I were to ask anyone in any country how to get to the ancient city, they would likely respond with, "Which ancient city?"
Even so, within the ancient city, one can clearly see the passage of time—withered willow trees, a moat that is nearly dried up, and eaves with crumbling tiles. It feels as if crows perched on the old trees are lamenting, their mournful cries echoing the decay of the entire city.
Time takes everything away, just like this city that once basked in glory. Look at the spacious streets and the impressive buildings, the towering red spires—everything has been stripped of its former brilliance by time.
Time is indeed the most terrifying enemy; even immortals cannot withstand the relentless flow of time. One day, they too will become mere bones in a grave. Gan Yuan stood before a dilapidated tavern, observing its worn-out sign and cracked doorposts. At that moment, his severed arm was reattached through secret techniques of his sect. Although he was merely a Foundation Establishment Stage disciple, he was one of the key disciples nurtured by his sect and had access to elixirs that could regenerate severed limbs.
Instead of lamenting about time, I might as well search for that rat-like fellow who seems to be hiding. Hong Ling said irritably.
What could she do? After all, she was just a mortal. Although she was skilled in martial arts, she couldn't fly through the air like cultivators could. Gan Yuan had arrived at the ancient city seven days ago and had been waiting for Hong Ling. If it weren't for her presence, he wouldn't have spent so long in such a dilapidated place.
Hong Ling was filled with frustration; who would want to ride on horseback all day? She thought that once she arrived, there would be some leads to follow, but it turned out there was nothing at all. What frustrated her even more was that the people from the Jade Void Sect had lost track of their targets while following another group. A large crowd—at least fifteen people—had gone missing. How could they claim to be cultivators when they lost track of them?
Hong Ling didn't want to believe it, but it was true; they really had lost them. How could it be? She felt like stabbing holes into Gan Yuan's falsely cheerful face with her sword. How could someone be so hypocritical and indifferent? They hadn't found their targets and had lost track of their enemies yet returned as if nothing had happened, casually saying they had lost them.
I was tired too; I might as well rest for now and then search properly later. After all, they weren't in a hurry. Gan Yuan knew what Minghong and the Jade Void Sect wanted; he also understood what Tai Xu sought.
What puzzled him was why Yuan Shi had not shown up at that moment but was now nowhere to be seen. Even if the control over the World of Mortals was weak, they shouldn't have sent no one at all. Did Yuan Shi really trust that other sects wouldn’t seize this opportunity to strike back? Gan Yuan didn’t believe it; no one would believe it.
Five sects surrounded Guangming; why was Yuan Shi merely watching from the sidelines? He feared that Guangming might retaliate fiercely in its final moments. A hundred-legged insect does not die easily; moreover, this was a massive sect that had risen by stepping over countless elite corpses in just ten thousand years. Everyone knew that if Wei Guangming hadn’t died and if Guangming had too many enemies, then even if five sects joined forces, they could still fight back against him. When walls crumble, everyone pushes; Guangming would have support from many allies.
Now those people wanted Gu Ping's Light Canon, eager to use the tactics from Gu Ping to lure the enemy out of hiding and capture all the light bearers from the World of Mortals. Even if they couldn't catch them all, they at least hoped to take advantage of that opportunity to severely weaken those lurking disciples of light, preventing them from striking unexpectedly at an unknown time.
We weren't in a hurry for him to pay; he had rushed over, and I told him there was no need to rush. Hong Ling was already throwing punches at Gan Yuan's face.
Gan Yuan saw Hong Ling's fist coming and didn't dodge; instead, he tilted his neck slightly, wearing a professional fake smile as he watched Hong Ling's increasingly larger fist approaching his face. In his mind, he thought about how well he had taken care of his skin.
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