Chapter 664: A Lifetime of Rebirth

Chapter 664: A Life Reborn

“You should all have met me through other means before, but since this is our first formal meeting, I suppose I should introduce myself properly.”

Shen Lían couldn’t sit still, clasping his fists in a respectful bow toward the crowd: “Shen Lían of the Heavenly Void, greetings, elders.”

Except for Hán Yáng, the other three exchanged uneasy glances, their faces betraying discomfort.

Though Shen Lían’s words were polite, his languid, disdainful demeanor came across as a provocation, as though he regarded these Ink Sect elders with utter disregard.

“Hán Yáng, what does this mean?”

Fàn Xián Jīng, his arms thick and unnervingly robust, furrowed his brow and fixed Yáng with a gaze that flickered with barely restrained fury.

“Elder Fàn, forgive my ignorance.”

Yáng turned his head to avoid the man’s piercing stare, forcing a smile as he replied, “I don’t understand your meaning.”

Fàn Xián Jīng let out a cold snort, about to speak, when a thunderous roar erupted beside him.

“I never imagined you were such a man, Hán. You’ve treated us as brothers, yet you scheme against us?”

Sōng Máng’s face flushed crimson, the color merging seamlessly with his nose.

“My intrusion upon this gathering of elders was my fault alone. It has nothing to do with Elder Hán. I apologize.”

Shen Lían leaned back in his chair, chin slightly raised, “Though… surely you elders don’t take such offense? Surely you don’t find me so objectionable?”

The drawn-out tone carried an undercurrent of dominance. Sōng Máng’s expression froze, and he fell silent.

This warrior’s own rank was lowly, unremarkable. Yet the title “Heavenly Void” carried immense weight.

Behind him stood a lone warrior of the third rank, a traditional Daoist master of the third rank, a Yin-Yang adept of the third rank, and the infamous Horse Ghost Prince of the Ink Sect.

Even if Sōng Máng held a branch academy in his grasp, he dared not offend this man lightly.

“Mr. Shěn speaks too gravely. Since your faction has settled in the Eastern Academy, we’ve long wished to pay our respects to Master Lǐ Guān. Today’s meeting fulfills that wish.”

Compared to the others, Táo Táng was far more versed in the ways of the world.

“The Ink and Martial Sects share deep bonds. For years, we’ve stood side by side against external threats. There’s no reason to conceal anything from you, Mr. Shěn.”

Táo Táng’s tone shifted, neither humble nor overbearing: “Yet what we discuss now is merely internal trifles of the Ink Sect. If even this requires your attention, wouldn’t that be somewhat improper?”

Fàn Xián Jīng nodded repeatedly: “Táo Elder speaks wisely. Why not wait a moment while we settle our affairs, then we may reminisce at leisure?”

“Hmph.”

Several dry, mocking chuckles rang out.

“Yáng, why do you laugh?”

Sōng Máng’s voice carried displeasure as he glared.

Yáng’s smile was strained, “I laugh because what you call ‘trifling internal matters’ is, in truth, a matter of life and death for the Ink Sect. Tell me, what in your eyes constitutes a true crisis?”

“Is it face? Status? Power?”

Yáng enunciated each word, his gaze sweeping over the three men’s shifting expressions.

“Elder Hán, having a patron is enviable. But no matter who supports you, some words are best left unsaid.”

Táo Táng’s low voice had barely finished when Yáng cut him off: “I have no desire to accuse you, but where in your actions lies the dignity befitting the Ink Sect?”

Within the Ink Sect, Hán Yáng, the Eastern Academy elder, was renowned for his good temper.

Yet now, his round, unangular face bore a frost so dense it seemed carved from ice, far removed from his usual gentleness.

“You needn’t curse me inwardly for breaking rules. You’ve long known of Heavenly Void’s pledge to protect my Eastern Academy. My purpose here today—you understand it as well as I.”

“Your posturing, your words… what you truly seek, we all grasp. I merely remind you: consider your own juniors in the four academies. What could outweigh their lives?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Elder Hán’s lesson today, I, Fàn Xián Jīng, shall remember. Alas, my eyes are dull, my sight limited to the narrow patch of the Southern Academy. I shall not intrude further. Farewell!”

Fàn Xián Jīng flicked his sleeve, about to sever the projection.

“It seems the Southern Academy is indeed a remarkable place, else why would Elder Fàn speak with such confidence?”

As Fàn Xián Jīng’s form began to fade, it suddenly solidified, his icy gaze locking onto Shen Lían.

“I recall the Horse Ghost Prince once told me he’d spent many years in the Southern Academy’s Ming Gui realm, and many a brother under his command had longed to return and pay respects.”

Shen Lían squinted, smiling, “Fortuitous. He happens to be in the Yellow Liang realm now, and not long ago complained to me of his boredom. Why not let Zòu Sì Jiǔ accompany him to visit your Southern Academy?”

“Shěn Lían, are you threatening me? The merger of the four academies is an internal matter. Heavenly Void has no place meddling!”

Fàn Xián Jīng erupted in fury, whirling to face Táo Táng and Sōng Máng, seeking their support.

Yet Táo Táng didn’t even glance at him, while Sōng Máng met his gaze with an odd expression, as though staring at a fool.

“These two bastards, daring to betray me?!”

Fàn Xián Jīng suddenly understood, cursing inwardly without end.

Before this meeting, he, Táo Táng, and Sōng Máng had already coordinated, anticipating Heavenly Void might intervene on Yáng’s behalf. They’d agreed to stand united.

Even if they couldn’t stop the merger, they aimed to secure sufficient benefits for their branches. Hence Fàn Xián Jīng’s boldness in confronting Shen Lían.

The earlier progress had unfolded as they’d predicted—Táo Táng and Sōng Máng had played their parts perfectly, setting the stage.

The final reversal was left to Fàn Xián Jīng. After all, with the Horse Ghost Prince’s close ties to Heavenly Void and his years in the Southern Academy’s Ming Gui realm, Shen Lían might harbor grievances but would at least hesitate.

But now it was clear the Horse Ghost Prince had no intention of favoring the Southern Academy—he stood firmly with Heavenly Void.

“Elder Fàn, you’d best return. It so happens you can prepare to welcome the Horse Ghost Prince and Zòu Sì Jiǔ. Both are proud men with volatile tempers. Should they feel slighted, unnecessary misunderstandings may arise.”

Shen Lían’s contemptuous gaze prickled Fàn Xián Jīng like a blade, leaving him mute, though his projection dared not fade.

“Mr. Shěn, take no offense. Elder Fàn merely spoke rashly. He means no disrespect to Heavenly Void.”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Sōng Máng who stepped forward to smooth things over.

That radiant smile of his—where was the earlier rage? Fàn Xián Jīng’s mouth twitched, his chagrin deepening.

Old foxes, all of them. How had he, in his folly, played the novice? It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Understood. In truth, my visit today was not to meddle in the Ink Sect’s affairs. We Heavenly Void know propriety.”

Shen Lían smiled, “We merely hope to set aside past grievances and reconcile with the entire Ink Sect, that the Martial and Ink branches may once again join forces against our common foe. As for whether your four academies merge, or how they merge—that is your affair, unrelated to Heavenly Void.”

Though he claimed no involvement, every word dripped with implication.

Only through the merger of the four academies could they truly be called the Ink Sect, worthy of alliance with Heavenly Void.

Whoever dared obstruct Heavenly Void’s “hope” would become the “common foe” in need of confrontation.

With that said, further words were pointless.

Before Táo Táng and the others lay two paths: merge under the Eastern Academy’s leadership, or await Heavenly Void’s arrival.

“Mr. Shěn speaks truly. A union of Martial and Ink is what we’ve long desired.”

Táo Táng spoke first, “I support the merger of the four academies. However, regarding the choice of leader afterward, I have an immature proposal that requires discussion.”

“Who?” Sōng Máng asked.

“The Horse Ghost Prince.”

Táo Táng explained, “His seniority and renown in the Ming Gui realm are unparalleled. With him at the helm, the warriors will have no objections. Moreover, his bond with Master Lǐ Guān is unbreakable—one man, one armor, a paragon of Martial-Ink cooperation.”

"I agree, and Lord Ma's merits in the Central Courtyard affair are plain for all to see. His stepping forward to lead will also ease the tensions between the wandering knights and the artisans."

Song Mang's eyes held a lingering dread. "Something like the Central Courtyard incident must never happen again."

"Agreed."

Fan Xianjing voiced his assent, and Han Yang naturally would not refuse.

As long as the merger was led by the Eastern Courtyard, who took charge was secondary.

At this moment, Han Yang felt immeasurably fortunate for a decision he had made years ago: accepting Zhao Qingxia as his closed-door disciple.

"Since everyone agrees to the merger, let there be no more hesitation. Hold the ground and the men live; lose the ground and the men die."

The debate within the room over the details of the merger dragged on for a long time. Shen Li had no heart to listen, propping his forehead with one hand, drowsy and drifting.

Only when Han Yang drew close and called his name did Shen Li slowly open a pair of eyes heavy with exhaustion.

The others' projections had already dispersed, leaving only Han Yang standing respectfully in place.

"Mr. Shen, thank you all for this."

"You and Tao Tang of the Western Courtyard sent us quite a few lone seedlings to the Borderlands as well. We merely help each other; no thanks are needed."

Shen Li waved a hand dismissively, signaling for Han Yang to leave first.

Seeing he had no interest in further chat, Han Yang bowed once more and tactfully withdrew from the secret chamber.

In the dimly lit room, Shen Li sat motionless in his chair, eyes hollow and unfocused, lost in God knew what thoughts.

*Hiss!*

A spark flared in the darkness—the tip of a lit cigarette—illuminating Zou Sijiu's profile.

He passed one to Shen Li, voice low. "Same as what Jiang Wei offered Yi Huang back then. Care for one?"

Shen Li took it in silence, but after lighting it, he did not bring it to his lips. Instead, he pinched it backward in his palm, staring at the wavering ember.

"Jiang Wei single-handedly challenged four peers of equal military rank, disturbing none of the Heavenly Gate's slumber. He was a true man."

Shen Li made no sound. Wisps of white smoke curled into his brow and eyes; even as the fumes reddened and stung his eyes, he did not move a muscle.

Zou Sijiu sighed inwardly at the sight. He knew all too well the blow Jiang Wei's death had dealt Shen Li.

A once unrestrained martial husband, a man who believed in treating life and death lightly and settling disputes with fists, had become this silent, taciturn shadow. His heart held not only grief, but deeper still, self-reproach.

Reproach for fists too weak to save his brothers.

Reproach for a blade too dull to sever the enemy's head.

The Heavenly Gate of old now had only Shen Li left.

Zou Sijiu wanted to offer comfort, but truly did not know how to begin, or what could possibly be said.

"Going to Mount Longhu?"

It was Shen Li who spoke, his voice exceptionally hoarse and low.

"Mm. Old Li hopes you'll come with us, just like before."

"Forget it. I'd only drag everyone down."

"Old Li said there'll be a lot of killing this time. Might help you advance quickly."

"That's Jun Ge's path. Not for me. I can't walk it."

"Truly decided on this course?"

Zou Sijiu drank in a low voice: "That is merely a technical method Zhao Qingxia conceived based on Chen Qisheng's experience. It is still in its embryonic stage. No one knows what chance of success it holds—not even him. If the slightest error occurs, you may never wake again. Do you understand?!"

"Master Zou."

Shen Li spoke softly: "I used to think I was a favored son of heaven, the protagonist of the martial sequence. So I couldn't abide a grain of sand in my eyes, nor did I believe anyone was an insurmountable peak qualified to block my view. Even if the sect's martial sequence declined, given enough time, I believed I could turn the tide."

"But following you all, crossing mountain after mountain, crossing sea after sea... I finally realized I am just a fish in a pond, a bird in a cage. Even playing a supporting role is a stretch."

The corner of Shen Li's mouth curled into a faint smile: "Now, besides me, everyone in the Heavenly Gate has been slaughtered. I understand now. What I lacked was never time. It was everything. Nothing left but this life of mine."

The cigarette pinched in his palm rose to his lips. The flame brightened; smoke rose.

Entering the lungs, entering the heart.

"Master Zou, help me once more. I don't want to stay at the bottom of the well, a frog arrogant in its ignorance."

As twin dragons of smoke blasted from his nostrils, Shen Li seemed to deflate with them. A profound weariness welled up in his heart. The darkness in the room, like an encroaching tide, gradually swallowed his vision.

"Trouble you, Master Zou."

Shen Li summoned the last of his strength to straighten his body, heavily closing his eyes.

"Boss, wake up! Those Confucian sequence brats got caught by the brothers."

"Good! If I don't castrate that bastard today to rid the people of a pest, I'm not Shen Li!"

Shen Li's eyes snapped open. The fierce midsummer sun of Jinmen pierced his eyes, blinding him into a trance.

He felt he had dreamed a very, very long dream.

Though he couldn't recall the specifics, he remembered the dream had been most unpleasant.

"To hell with it."

Shen Li cursed under his breath, casting it all aside, vaulting from the bed and striding out the door.

I am Shen Li of Jinmen. When have I ever been displeased?

"With the 'Eternally Suppressing Yellow Earth' Dream Master Rule in place, you needn't worry about the dream's stability. But Shen Li's situation differs greatly from Chen Qisheng's back then. Shen Li doesn't have so many Wudang heroic spirits looking after him."

Zou Sijiu frowned tightly, looking at Zhao Qingxia with slight tension: "Are you sure this technical method will work?"

The secret chamber was now bustling with people. A large amount of strange, incomprehensible Netherworld equipment was arranged around Shen Li.

"The situations differ, but Big Brother Shen walks the Lone Walker path now. He doesn't need to accept an inheritance like Big Brother Chen. And we've prepared enough injectors. As long as he completes the ritual within the dream, the outside world can immediately inject the matching, suitable martial arts."

"What if he fails to complete it?"

Zhao Qingxia fell silent for a long while, finally speaking slowly: "We know it's a dream. But for Big Brother Shen, this is a whole life relived. Advance and live; retreat and die. There is no third possibility."

"Every damn one of you is a son of a bitch. Do you have to be this ruthless to yourselves?"

Zou Sijiu cast a deep look at Shen Li sitting upright in the chair, cursed viciously, and turned to leave.

Moments later, a massive Peng bird rose from the mountains, soaring straight toward the southeast.

Atop the Ink Rider Whale, a burly figure shrouded in a black robe sat cross-legged.

Within the shadows of the hood, specks of bloody crimson light flickered.