Hong Ning sighed. “I’m just afraid I’m too much of a worldly person and won’t have the fortune to form such an immortal connection.”
Wen Xin said, “If you have the will to cultivate, there is always a path. Years ago, I wrote a book detailing the ways of cultivation. If you ever wish to pursue it, read through it—you may yet have the chance to reunite with me one day.”
Hong Ning sighed dramatically. “It would be nice to stay with Master, but cultivating means no good food, no good drinks, and no fun. What if I die before I even succeed in this life? Will I remember to continue in the next? And if I work hard for hundreds of years only to fail in the end, wouldn’t that be a terrible deal?”
Wen Xin laughed. “Enough, you’re already worrying about failure before you’ve even started. You might as well give up now.”
The two of them continued chatting like this, reminiscing over old times. The atmosphere had never been so lighthearted. It felt as if all the gloom that had loomed over them for the past year had finally lifted.
After a long while, Hong Ning finally looked up at him and softly asked, “Master, when do you plan to leave?”
Wen Xin didn’t answer directly. “Let’s wait until Bai Ling returns.”
Hearing Bai Ling’s name, Hong Ning couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Didn’t Senior Brother use to live on Kunlun Mountain? Did you take him in after subduing him—is that why he follows you in cultivation?”
Wen Xin looked at her, about to say something, when the door suddenly swung open. Bai Ling strode in quickly. After being away for several days, his beautiful face carried a hint of exhaustion, though his white robes remained pristine, without the slightest trace of dust.
Hong Ning stood up and grumbled, “Of course you come back just in time.”
Bai Ling glanced at her.
Hong Ning deliberately glared back.
Wen Xin held her hand for a long moment before finally letting go. “Go for a walk outside for a while—I have something to discuss with Bai Ling.”
Hong Ning glanced at the two of them but said nothing and stepped outside.
The door closed, and the room fell silent once more.
Once he was certain she had left, Wen Xin finally turned to Bai Ling and spoke. “Last night, the Celestial Lord came to me in a dream. It seems my time has come.”
Bai Ling replied, “Master, there’s no need to leave in haste. First, take a look at this.”
As he spoke, he lifted his right hand and gave a slight wave. Instantly, a small, blue-purple herb appeared in his palm. Its tiny, round leaves glowed faintly with a soft golden light at their tips.
Wen Xin was stunned. “This… this is…”
Bai Ling said, “This is the sacred treasure of my clan—the Nine-Leaf Lingzhi.”
The Nine-Leaf Lingzhi—what cultivator hadn’t heard of it? Legends claimed that it possessed the same power as the Nine-Turn Celestial Pill, capable of bringing the dead back to life. Even if the soul had already left the body, it could be forcibly retrieved from the hands of the King of the Underworld. However, the herb grew only in the divine realm of Kunlun and did not belong to the mortal world. It was incredibly rare, said to reveal itself only to those with great destiny. Few had ever seen it, and even fewer could recognize it.
Now that Bai Ling had somehow obtained such a treasure, how could Wen Xin not be shocked? His expression changed instantly as he sternly reprimanded, “Why did you steal this? Return it at once! If the Celestial Lords discover it, they will surely punish you!”
Bai Ling remained unfazed. “If Master takes this, you can preserve your physical body. A hundred years from now, when your cultivation is complete, you will be able to ascend as a scattered immortal. Isn’t that far better than becoming a ghost immortal?”
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