Chapter 92: Finally, An Actual Funeral

Oldd Chen leaned out the window, but he still saw nothing. Instead, rain droplets from the outstretched branches of a tree hit his face. Qing Mu stepped into the courtyard with a high-powered telescope. After an exhaustive search, he only managed to spot two crows flapping away into the distance.

"Are you certain about what you saw?" Old Chen's gaze became unusually intense, resembling the luminous eyes of a cat in the dark. He pulled Wang Xuan inside with an air of anticipation and urgency.

"There was indeed a faint golden glow, floating amidst the clouds," Wang Xuan asserted, trying the telescope once more. The image remained hazy.

Qing Mu considered piloting a small aircraft to get a closer look, but Old Chen firmly stopped him. "Don't act rashly. This could be... a secret passage!" Old Chen whispered, nearly trembling with excitement. His agitation was so intense that the wound on his forehead threatened to reopen. Given his prowess, it was evident that whatever Wang Xuan had spotted was of monumental importance. Chen wished he could ascend immediately to decipher the mystery.

"It could be the Heavenly Herb," Old Chen speculated, drawing parallels with notes he had encountered in ancient manuscripts.

Qing Mu felt a jolt of anticipation. Was this the emergence of another secret path?

The decline of the Old Arts in this era was largely attributed to the disappearance of these mystical paths, cutting off access to otherworldly attributes. If this was another such path, it could mean a resurgence of power and knowledge thought lost to time.

In the early morning stillness, Old Chen's eyes shimmered with anticipation. "We must exercise patience and not disturb it. We cannot risk losing this heavenly herb."

Wang Xuan expressed his astonishment, "Is it capable of eluding us? Are we dealing with a sentient being?"

Old Chen replied thoughtfully, "We need to observe intently and remain passive. The mysteries surrounding the heavenly herb are profound. Even our ancient teachings only provide cryptic clues."

Despite his urge to get a closer insight, Qing Mu's attempts to utilize sophisticated technology were futile. Wang Xuan's gaze fixed on the mesmerizing golden luminescence, which danced gracefully amidst the thickening clouds, but it remained unchanged.

"What if it's still in its nascent stage?" The anxiety was evident in Old Chen's voice. He recalled ancient texts suggesting that the more one yearns for the heavenly herb, the more elusive it becomes. It's akin to a distant dream; just when you least expect it, it might manifest itself on the horizon.

"And if that's the case?" Wang Xuan questioned, his voice filled with urgency.

"It might retreat into hiding, only to emerge once it reaches maturity in the distant future," Old Chen said, a shade of melancholy in his voice, suspecting their current observation might align with this scenario.

Wang Xuan mulled over it, "How perplexing," attempting to unravel the intricate nature of the heavenly herb.

Old Chen sighed, "The mysteries of these secret pathways are beyond comprehension."

According to the vague descriptions in the ancient manuscripts, when the heavenly herb matures, it might naturally descend to the ground. Throughout the morning, Wang Xuan could be seen craning his neck and wandering around the mansion grounds, his gaze perpetually fixed upon the sky. In his quest for the heavenly herb, Wang Xuan was intensely focused. His eyes grew weary and his neck stiffened from hours of skyward gazing, occasionally pausing to stretch his tensed muscles.

Several individuals covertly observed him from the shadows. Whispered conversations hinted at admiration for his dedication. "Success is no accident. True mastery requires unwavering concentration. His imminent ascension to Master status is well-deserved," remarked one onlooker.

"Have you noticed? He's been like this all morning. Completely immersed in understanding his path. Watching the clouds form and disperse, pausing at times to practice his moves. He's on his way to become a full-fledged Master," another remarked.

During this, Qing Mu discreetly reminded Wang Xuan of the prying eyes observing him. Acknowledging this, Wang Xuan stealthily slipped into the kitchen for a quick respite, sipping on some tomato juice. As he returned to his watchful vigil, he spat out a mouthful, which appeared like 'bloody froth' staining his attire. Savoring the remaining juice, he swallowed it, enjoying its taste.

"He must've been grievously injured in last night's battle; he's still spitting blood," one person observed.

"If such a dedicated individual doesn't achieve the status of a Master, then it truly defies the natural order," another admirer noted.

Hushed conversations surrounded Wang Xuan. Each observer saw a different aspect of him, but they unanimously agreed: here was a young man with relentless drive and determination. Wang Xuan's behavior only bolstered their perceptions. Whenever the strain of looking skywards took its toll, he would relax his body and practice some arcane techniques. It was this dedication and fervor that drew the observers' attention.

When Wang Xuan seemingly "spat blood", Da Wu, concerned, appeared by his side. She feared that Wang Xuan might suffer internal injuries, reminiscent of the fate that befell Old Chen.

Chen Yongjie, in his youth, had rigorously practiced a formidable Taoist technique, which had eventually resulted in latent internal vulnerabilities. These vulnerabilities were exploited years later in the Pamir Plateau. Wu Yin wanted to have Wang Xuan examined thoroughly. However, Wang Xuan tactfully declined her offer. He expressed his gratitude to Da Wu but adamantly kept the handkerchief stained with the tomato juice. While he didn't particularly suspect Da Wu's intentions, he was wary of the cunning Old Wu potentially analyzing the stain.

Da Wu, with a displeased glance at Wang Xuan, did not persist. With her high heels clicking, she gracefully departed.

"Breaking news: Our sources have confirmed that the F-type spaceship that crashed on the outskirts of An City hailed from Xin Xing. Among the deceased is Mr. Olesha..."

By midday, this explosive piece of news spread. Olesha, a Grandmaster from the New Arts realm, had died in the crash. Olesha was somewhat of a legend. He kept a low profile in his early days, dabbling in the Old Arts. Mysteriously disappearing for years, he resurfaced as a revered Grandmaster in the New Arts realm.

The revelation that Olesha had ventured into the Transcendent realm two years prior and had ostensibly succeeded shook the core of many. Contrary to popular belief, he hadn't failed; he had achieved the near-impossible.

"The formidable Olesha from the New Arts faction is gone?!" The news took many by surprise. While some insiders had been clued in earlier, most were now grappling with the magnitude of this loss.

For the average denizen of the Old World, the name Olesha was not something they knew very well. Their knowledge of him, let alone the intricacies of the New Arts, was scant. It was only the widespread attention garnered by the Battle of Pamir Plateau that unveiled some facets of the New Arts to them.

"We're truly in turbulent times. The beacon of the New Arts realm has been extinguished?"

In this epoch, influential magnates and pivotal figures from significant factions shared intricate relations with the elite of the New Arts realm. This was predominantly due to the tantalizing promise of life extension the New Arts held. Olesha's abrupt departure thus sent tremors across select circles, creating an undercurrent of unrest and conjecture. By noon, once thorough checks affirmed Olesha's demise, an official obituary was released. The media landscape was awash with this news, dissecting every possible angle.

The deluge of reports was so overwhelming that even ordinary citizens began to understand the depth of Olesha’s contributions. Whispers and conversations hinted at him possibly being one of the most formidable humans ever.

After encountering a news update, Old Chen remarked dismissively, "He met his end by my hand."

Qing Mu mused, "In a twist of fate, his reported 'aircraft accident' might serve to immortalize his legend."

The underlying currents of Old Chen's viewpoint were undeniably tainted by personal feelings. However, the major factions and influential figures were not so easily swayed. They had a keen sense of the unfolding events.

The narrative shifted, and many fingers pointed at Qing Mu, crediting him with Olesha's demise. His alleged retribution—a devastating energy blast—was thought to have consigned Olesha's spirit to the void of the Old Earth. Suddenly, Qing Mu's reputation was in the spotlight. To many, he was the embodiment of audacity and ruthlessness, a figure who dared to defy conventions.

Yet, some admired his dedication and valor. They saw a man who, driven by allegiance to his mentor, braved dire consequences to seek justice, challenging even the most towering of hierarchies. The release of Olesha's obituary intensified the clamor for an exhaustive inquiry. There was a common sentiment that such a prominent figure from the New Arts realm shouldn't meet an ambiguous end, and Qing Mu must be held accountable.

In response, a formidable female luminary from Old Earth voiced her objections through secretive channels. She questioned the motives behind the accusations.

Why was Olesha near An City in the first place? With Chen Yongjie on the brink of passing away, why couldn't these adversaries find peace?

Their audacious attempt on a rain-laden night showed their recklessness. Chen Yongjie, despite his impending natural end, was a respected figure in Old Earth. Did they consider the Old Earth a mere pawn in their games?

Though these sentiments were fervently expressed, they were carefully kept from public scrutiny. The authorities, in due course, formally expressed their sorrow over Olesha's tragic mishap. Upon catching wind of these whispers, Qing Mu felt a chill. He realized the clandestine power plays that had taken place in the shadows, acknowledging how close he had come to a perilous fate.

Old Chen, ever the pillar of strength, simply murmured, "All is well."

......

Upon hearing of Olesha's death, the delegates, originally preparing to leave the suburban manor for their respective homes, realized that their waiting had not been in vain.

Now, they were bound for An City, where they would have the opportunity to attend a memorial service. Many were taken aback. They had missed the funeral for Chen Yongjie, and now unexpectedly, they were presented with the obituary of the leading figure in the New Arts domain. The turn of events was truly bizarre. Some could not help but muse over the unpredictability of fate. Old Chen had managed to outlive his greatest adversary. His unyielding spirit seemed determined to witness Olesha's end before his own.

"Looks like we won't need to return the wreath we got for Old Chen," one remarked. "Just have the florist change the commemorative words and send it to An City!"

Many found the situation surreal, almost dreamlike, given the uncanny events that had transpired in just a couple of days.

Even Old Chen was reflective, jesting to Qing Mu, "Do you think we should send a wreath for Olesha on my behalf? He was quite a formidable figure; it'd be a mark of respect."

Qing Mu's response was one of sheer astonishment, "What?!"

......

By noon, almost all the guests in the manor had left, heading to An City to mourn for Olesha. Many were relieved, thinking that this time, their trip would not be in vain. Wang Xuan hadn't even had lunch, his gaze still fixed on the celestial herb in the sky.

From a distance, Zhong Cheng, panting, approached Wang Xuan, waving and flashing a radiant smile. Wang Xuan shot him a glance, well aware that despite Zhong Cheng's innocent appearance, he was no naive young lad. He had no intention of engaging with him.

"Brother Wang, I've come to seek guidance," Zhong Cheng blurted out hurriedly, "I've brought a secret manual. I need to understand why you're progressing so quickly in your cultivation." He waved the manual tantalizingly.

Unmoved, Wang Xuan kept gazing skyward. Did he really need any manuals from others? Unless it was an unparalleled manuscript or the legendary golden bamboo slips, he wouldn't be interested.

However, he then noticed the manual in Zhong Cheng's hand. It was unusually large, almost the size of a photo album. Furthermore, it lacked the aged appearance of historical manuscripts. It seemed too modern, as if it had just been freshly printed.

Before Wang Xuan could think any further, Xiao Zhong appeared, her long legs swiftly carrying her towards them.

"Let me have a look then. I'll offer some guidance." Replied Wang Xuan as he swiftly took the manual from Zhong Cheng's hands and started skimming through.

Zhong Cheng was taken aback. Wang Xuan's actions were so swift and precise that it caught him off guard. Just a moment ago, Wang Xuan was gazing at the sky, seemingly lost in thought, and in the next moment, he had snatched the book, all without Zhong Cheng even registering the movement.