Chapter 369 – Reunion of Father and Son, Husband and Wife; the Whole Family Ascends to Cloudpeak Province - Part 2

One morning, Yao Jue received news that Ping'an was set to head out for an assignment.

She caught up to him and said, “Before you leave, drop by my place. I prepared some documents for you that will help you out on your mission.”

“Ah, sure,” Ping'an replied.

𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He arrived at Yao Jue’s hidden manor two days later. His mission was to crash a secret Lotus Cult gathering. No fifth ranks would be in attendance, but there would be many sixth ranks. With most of the older elders away on their own missions, the job fell to him.

No one was concerned he wouldn’t be up to the task. His strength was already widely recognized.

Formerly just a golden prodigy, Ping'an had skyrocketed up the rankings again and again until he was unofficially recognized as the fifth strongest figure of the Holy Tree Temple.

Ahead of him were only Jing Ruyi, Jing Shuixiang, Gu Xuejian, and Qing Hancheng respectively.

The top two need no commentary. Fourth and third relied heavily on monstrous spirit artifacts, one forged with 300 years of Li Yuan’s lifespan, the other the last masterwork of Master Gong.

As for Jing Banfeng and the rest? All of them sat below Ping'an now.

Unless a fourth rank heavyweight showed up, Ping'an could almost always hold his own or just walk away. The Holy Tree Temple treated him like porcelain. He was dispatched only to local missions, never far-flung suicide runs.

Outside, people greeted him as

Lord Ping'an

and the bolder asskissers whispered

Young Temple Master

. It was almost accepted as fact that he was set to lead the Holy Tree Temple in the future. His growth was simply too freakish.

Ping'an had searched for his missing parents many times over the past decade or so to no avail. Most would have despaired or given up hope, but he remained steadfast thanks to the support of Yao Jue, Cui Huayin, Jing Shuixiang, Yan Mu, and the childhood tag-along who became his wife. Now he strutted through the world with reckless arrogance but very real power.

He had sworn more than once that, given a rematch, he would

flatten

Li Yuan and make his old man see just how brilliant his son had become.

Stepping into the manor, Ping'an picked up the documents Yao Jue prepared for him, ate a quick meal, and set off.

A few minutes later, a lone figure tailed him into the trees.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

A few days later.

Ping'an completed his mission without much fanfare. He’d cut down the three sixth rank martial artists of the Lotus Cult as easily as mowing grass.

A longsword, forged for him by a weaponsmith of the Sacred Fire Palace, rode across his back as he strolled homeward.

Mid autumn had passed; the forest wore its funeral colors. Leaves fluttered like torn butterflies, settling on yellowed grass, skittering on the wind until they collapsed to dust.

Ping'an marched through that desolate beauty, eyes on the sunset, when his gaze sharpened. He halted, lips quirking in a half-smile, and called out, “Anyone bold enough to jump me must have some skill. Come on out. If you give me a good workout, maybe I’ll let you live.”

Behind the trees emerged a dark robed figure with a wide straw hat and plain mask. In his hand was a single dead tree branch, bent slightly in the shape of a blade.

Ping'an nodded at the improvised weapon. “You have my respect. But without a proper spirit artifact, no matter how strong you are, you’ll never be my match.”

The stranger, of course, was Li Yuan.

Since grasping Dragon’s Breath and Mortal World Transformation, his flesh and inner flame had fused into something new. Where others needed steel, his body itself was a weapon. A spark of inner flame could jack him straight into the fourth rank whenever he wished, comparable to wielding Sun And Moon Aloft or the Khagan’s Axe.

Tonight the

blade

in his hand was just a twig.

Who needed steel when your blood could burn like a forge?

That was how he’d once disguised himself as

Bubba

and carved a bloody path through a crowd of experts with nothing but an ordinary long blade.

If a cheap blade could do the job, a single sycamore twig would do just as well.

Li Yuan toyed with the twig, eyes locked on the branch as though it were some rare treasure. Then his left hand drifted up and made a lazy come-at-me gesture toward the

young heir

of the Holy Tree Temple standing across the clearing.

Ping'an let out a booming laugh. “Interesting! You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

He might be laughing, but he wasn’t careless. Lightning flashed in his gaze as he whisked the longsword from his back. The sword swayed like willow in the breeze. One sway became two Ping'ans, one blur became two more. Four copies now stood before him.

One phantom sprang skyward, pinched its fingers into a sword sign, and pointed down. The illusory sword in its hand solidified and roared earthward, a silver streak aimed straight at the masked man below.

Whoosh!

The stranger blew on it.

The blade shattered.

He flicked his wrist with the sycamore twig.

The airborne Ping'an was blasted away.

“What the!?” Ping'an’s eyes widened.

The dark robed man raised his off hand and beckoned again.

Ping'an’s grin fell; he blurred, splitting like light through a prism until 34 different Ping'ans filled the air. Each bore a distinct pose, each brandishing a sword. That was his limit.

A total of 34 bodies whirled in a crimson sundown, swords forming a screaming vortex.

Li Yuan watched on with a curious look on his face. He still hadn’t figured out his son’s innate shadow blood ability, but it hardly mattered. Son or not, the boy was not winning today.

He glanced at Ping'an’s 3,010~7,880. If he’d personally forged his son a spirit artifact, Ping'an would undoubtedly be the undisputed strongest fifth rank in the Holy Tree Temple.

He’s fifth rank now, the same as me...

Li Yuan couldn’t help but sigh. He glanced at his own 4,530~69,496, then recalled how his base power had only been 2,600 when he’d first broken through to fifth rank.

In a way, I suppose he has surpassed me. He really is a Heaven favored prodigy.

Li Yuan clicked his tongue in admiration, pride swelling up within him.

As he drifted through these thoughts, the 34 Ping'ans began to spin. The swords spun with them, weaving a screaming vortex that crashed toward the forest floor.

Even before the whirlpool struck, the ground for several hundred meters cracked like drought-baked earth; stones burst, fissures clawed outward, and even the light was sucked away, leaving Li Yuan bathed in shadow at the center.

He lifted the twig. No flourish, no grand stance, just a quiet tap toward the wildest, fiercest heart of the vortex.

BOOM!

The grand storm of swords disintegrated as though struck by the finger of heaven. Shockwaves ripped outward, mulching trees and stones alike.

Ping'an couldn’t see how it happened. He’d been too far away; otherwise, he would’ve been left thoroughly shaken to the core. Hidden inside that twig tip strike was a tranquil but bottomless sea of blade qi. His sword formation was only a small river. What river could stand up to the sea?

He knew there was no running, no dodging; instead he blurred forward, closing the gap in a heartbeat and snapping into a point-blank slash. The single cut shimmered, multiplied, became a rain of impossible angles.

Li Yuan’s twig touched air.

The mirage vanished. The dizzying assault returned to just being a single cut.

Ping'an broke into a sprint, slashing as he moved. Swords sprouted everywhere, trapping the stranger within a forest of whipping willow branches. Blood energy snarled through the air, weaving a net meant to slow any target by half a heartbeat.

Li Yuan felt the tug, gave a silent nod of approval, then let his own blood ignite. The net burned away, and he swung the twig once.

Ping'an was struck by a blast and exploded. Fortunately, it was only a clone body. The real one tumbled a hundred feet back, crouched, eyes gleaming with predatory light.

Li Yuan didn’t pursue. He merely crooked a finger again.

Ping'an’s excitement flared into something feral.

“Who are you?” he roared.

Li Yuan rumbled through the mask, “Your father.”