Chapter 10: The Wretched Xiao Lin

Seeing that Zhao Lan's attitude was reasonably respectful, the old woman's stern expression softened slightly. She swept her gaze over him from head to toe and let out a cold laugh.

"You do have some ability."

Zhao Lan's face lit up with delight.

"This junior is of modest talent — at twenty-six, I've only just reached Profound Origin. Though when it comes to the blade, I do have some skill..."

"Hmph! I was talking about the one who injured you!"

Zhao Lan's smile froze. He heard the old woman continue coldly:

"Using palm force alone to shatter your meridians inch by inch — not one thread more, not one thread less — wounding your organs without touching the heart meridian. Hmph! That level of control? I wouldn't believe it without at least thirty years of cultivation behind it."

Zhao Lan naturally understood that the old woman was praising Pei Su.

He also knew that Pei Su was only nineteen this year.

For some reason, a nameless flame rose in Zhao Lan's heart. Perhaps wanting to raise his own standing by mentioning that he had crossed blades with Pei Su, he blurted out without thinking:

"It was the Heir of the Northern Marquis!"

Silence —

The meadow, which had been buzzing with chatter just moments before, plunged into a deathly stillness.

Zhao Lan looked up to find every pair of eyes burning into his face like hot coals.

The old woman took two sharp steps forward, her eyes wide.

"What?! You're saying the one who injured you was Pei Jiumu?!"

"The legitimate son of Duke Pei's Manor — the grandson of Pei Zhao?!"

Everyone present stared at him with an intensity that caught Zhao Lan completely off guard.

He could only nod blankly.

Then the old woman's expression darkened with fury, as though she were forcibly suppressing something. Finally, she pointed toward the distance.

"Now. Immediately. Leave!"

Zhao Lan had no idea what was happening and stood there in a daze.

But people were already stepping forward to shove him —

"Go, go! Don't let us see you!"

"And don't you dare mention that we saved you — or I'd rather kill you right now!"

Several middle-aged men in armor pushed Zhao Lan off the wooden chair, pointing in the direction he should leave, their voices cold and sharp —

"If you still remember the debt of your life being saved, if you have even half a conscience, then leave now. From this day forward, pretend this memory never existed."

Zhao Lan took two steps forward, then turned back, as if searching for something.

At last, he spotted the figure that had haunted his dreams approaching with light steps.

"Fairy Sister!"

But he found not a trace of reluctance or longing in the young woman's eyes.

"You should go. We cannot keep you here."

The young woman's clear, gentle voice shattered his last line of defense. He had no choice but to turn and walk toward the peach grove, his whole being deflated with loss.

Only after Zhao Lan's figure vanished from everyone's sight did someone finally let out a low cry.

"Trouble! Why would the Heir of the Northern Marquis be nearby?"

"Anything involving the Pei Clan must be handled with extreme caution — otherwise..."

"That family — it's best we have absolutely nothing to do with them right now."

The old woman's expression turned grim and brooding. She murmured under her breath:

"What I fear most is that Pei Jiumu has already found us..."

Clever indeed.

Not far away, hidden within the folds of space, Pei Su watched everything with calm detachment. Around him, not a single trace of aura leaked — his entire being seemed to have slipped into a layered dimension.

The supreme tier of breath-concealment in this world: Nirvana Concealment. So long as one did not walk directly before another's eyes, even a Heavenly Palace Realm cultivator could not detect the slightest hint of his presence.

Yet from childhood to now, Pei Su's status and identity had rendered this profound Nirvana Concealment technique almost entirely useless.

The old woman in his field of vision was unmistakably a Heavenly Palace Realm cultivator herself.

A descendant of the Xia royal house possessing such depth of foundation — Pei Su was not the least bit surprised.

But his gaze lingered far longer on the young woman surrounded by the crowd at the center.

Even by Pei Su's exacting standards, he had to admit that the former dynasty's princess possessed a beauty and bearing that was truly rare in this world — pure, ethereal, and otherworldly.

Yet it was not her appearance that drew Pei Su's attention, but rather what his Qi Sight revealed: a faint, translucent dark-violet spiritual vortex hovering around her, flickering in and out of visibility.

"Heavenly Cloud Glazed Heart?"

Pei Su was not entirely certain. After all, this was a cultivation constitution that had not appeared for who knew how many centuries. Legend held that its bearer possessed effortless comprehension — cultivating techniques as easily as eating and drinking.

More than that, the first man to share a room with its bearer was said to receive immense fortune, with even an ordinary mortal supposedly able to become a peerless genius overnight.

But Pei Su did not dismiss the possibility either. He knew that in recent years, many mysterious constitutions long sealed away in history had been quietly reappearing in the world.

His own brow bore an Immortal's Mark of breathtaking rarity — at the moment of his birth, celestial light had radiated from it, suffused with immortal energy, as though a banished immortal had descended into the mortal world.

For over a decade, whether in the imperial court or the jianghu, people had lavished praise on Pei Jiumu as a young immortal of the human realm, a reincarnated celestial sovereign — and this despite never having laid eyes on Pei Su, never having witnessed him act. The sole basis for all of it was that legendary Immortal's Mark.

No one found this strange, for the myths and legends surrounding the Immortal's Mark were simply too extraordinary and magnificent.

Pei Su let his gaze rest on the former dynasty's princess for a few more breaths, then slowly rose and moved in the direction Zhao Lan had departed.

The Jiang Clan of the former dynasty would remain here and not move for now. At the moment, he needed to intercept Zhao Lan.

Pei Su watched from a distance as Zhao Lan stepped out of the Peach Blossom Spring, passed through the dim gorge, and emerged onto the open fields outside Lin'an Commandery.

Whoosh!

A streak of light tore across the sky from the horizon, resolving into a blood-soaked figure riddled with wounds across his body, both eyes threaded with crimson — a truly wretched sight.

Xiao Lin?

The corner of Pei Su's mouth curved into a smile.

Poison wounds covering his entire body, his life-force aura diminished by more than half — with injuries like these, death was surely not far off.

Under Qi Sight, he could see no fewer than thirteen poison seals planted on the man's body, his whereabouts fully exposed — yet he remained blissfully unaware.

Sure enough, everything was unfolding exactly according to the "script."

What came next: let Xiao Lin take Zhao Lan away, arrange a scene of life-and-death farewell between master and disciple, and hope that in that moment, something useful could be pried from Xiao Lin's lips.

Pei Su steadied his focus and watched as Zhao Lan ahead of him cried out in shock.

"Uncle Xiao!"

Zhao Lan rushed forward and caught the blood-drenched Xiao Lin.

"Uncle Xiao! Uncle Xiao, what happened to you?!"

Xiao Lin coughed up a mouthful of bloody froth, his eyes wide with fear. He grabbed Zhao Lan's arm.

"Lan'er, run! If that old man catches up, neither of us will survive."

With that, he pulled Zhao Lan and shot into the sky.

But in the very next moment, the space ahead suddenly solidified, and Pei Su's figure materialized squarely in their path.

"Pei Su!"

Zhao Lan's eyes blazed with fury.

Xiao Lin's expression flashed with a moment of shock, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"Heir of the Northern Marquis — you dare block my way?!"

He could never have imagined that Pei Su, a mere junior, would actually dare to stand before him.

Though gravely wounded and with his lifespan diminished, he was still a genuine Heavenly Palace Realm cultivator through and through. And no matter how gifted Pei Su might be, he was nothing more than a Profound Origin practitioner.

The gap between them was like the distance between the heavens and an earthworm.

With a single casual strike, he could erase this prodigy who might one day stand at the pinnacle of the martial path.

In his haste, he didn't even stop to wonder why he hadn't detected Pei Su's presence earlier — he simply unleashed a fierce palm strike.

He had been hunted by the imperial court for twenty years and had forged a blood feud with the Pei Clan that could only end in death. So he held nothing back, fully intending to utterly destroy this son of the Northern Pacification Marquis.

Just imagining the Northern Pacification Marquis — ranked among the five greatest martial experts in the realm, standing at the very pinnacle of Great Jin's martial world — flying into a rage over the death of his son filled him with a surge of excitement and savage satisfaction.

Though he was no more than an ant before that Nation-Guarding General of Great Jin, was not the man's son equally an ant before him?

A Heavenly Palace palm strike — though launched from a heavily wounded state, it still carried incomparable, crushing force.

"Uncle Xiao, wipe out Pei Su with one palm!"

Zhao Lan witnessed this and his own eyes went wide with excitement.

"The Heavenly Palace Realm — truly in a class of its own."

Yet faced with this lethal palm strike bearing down on him, Pei Su's expression remained utterly blank. He simply spoke in a quiet murmur.