The Immortal Path Is Crowded

Wei Han walked calmly with his sword in hand, the cold gleam of the blade reflecting his own indifference. He crossed a wide courtyard where every stone tile and every architectural line exuded an ancient grandeur.

Though simple in design, the pressure of the spiritual energy permeating the place was so dense that, if not for his recently acquired sword intent cutting through the atmosphere around him, he would have had to circulate his Qi just to move with such ease.

His thoughts returned again and again to his master’s words. A friend? Although barely a year had passed since the last time he spoke with him, a faint sting of curiosity lingered within him. What had become of that troublesome person?

Suddenly, his introspection was interrupted by a gust of wind. He lifted his gaze to the sky with a barely perceptible motion, just in time to see someone flying past, standing atop a sword. He watched the figure for a few seconds as it faded into the distance before continuing forward, unbothered.

When the sun stood at its highest point, he passed through a large gate guarded by two disciples leaning lazily against the pillars.

Upon seeing him, they simply nodded, a casual acknowledgment, before returning to their idle rest. Without pause, Wei descended a set of polished stone stairs, heading toward another courtyard below.

Wei arrived at a much larger courtyard than the previous one. Compared to the serene solemnity of the other, this one bustled with the activity of numerous disciples.

They wore robes of different colors, and on their chests were insignias engraved with various symbols: some bore a sword, others a misty haze, and a few displayed the imposing figure of a mountain.

Unperturbed, Wei walked along the main path toward a specific destination. Several disciples stared at him as he passed, some whispering among themselves.

“Is that the sword genius everyone’s talking about?” one disciple commented.

“Yes, that’s Wei Han. His talent is monstrous, but they say he’s colder than an ice lotus,” another replied, with a mix of admiration and wariness.

“Look how arrogant—he doesn’t even glance at us,” muttered a third, wrinkling his nose.

Although Wei Han managed to hear some of those words, he remained indifferent. None of it held any value to him. He continued walking toward a residential area set apart from the main courtyard, where he could see several residences, each with its own garden and open space. The place covered a vast area.

Unhurried, he walked toward the far end, still drawing the attention of everyone who passed by. Most gazes were filled with discomfort or resentment. Only a few female disciples looked at him with admiration and a hint of shyness.

“He’s so handsome! And his aura… it’s so intense,” one whispered, placing a hand over her chest.

“They say he’s already condensed sword intent—at his age!” another exclaimed, her eyes shining.

At that, several male disciples frowned with jealousy and frustration, but said nothing. And so, Wei Han continued forward, impassive.

Once Wei Han was a considerable distance away, the male disciples finally dared to vent their frustrations.

“Damn it!” one exclaimed, clenching his fists. “He’s just an inner disciple like us! Why does he get so much attention? He hasn’t even been here a year.”

“Yeah, it’s not that impressive,” another sneered. “So what if he’s condensed sword intent? We’ve already reached the Foundation Establishment realm. This is an insult.”

“And those female disciples… so blind!” a third growled, spitting on the ground. “It’s irritating!”

Just at that moment, a clear, youthful voice, tinged with cold authority, echoed behind them: “If you value your bones, step out of my way.”

The disciples, already stirred by jealousy, turned around with the intention of putting the speaker in his place. However, the moment they saw the young man before them, their words froze in their throats.

A faint aura seemed to emanate from him—barely perceptible, yet enough to make the air around him feel heavier and denser. For an instant, the atmosphere fell silent, as if that small section of the courtyard itself held its breath.

It was Long Bai, a young man with a slender build but broad shoulders, wrapped in a sapphire-blue robe that contrasted with the unusual silver tint of his hair. His amber-colored eyes shone with a cunning and confidence far beyond his years.

A broad, heavy sword rested on his back, its obsidian hilt seeming like a natural extension of his being.

The two disciples stepped back instinctively, not daring to challenge this disciple of the new generation.

Long Bai began to pass between them, but just as he was about to continue on his way, he stopped. Slowly, he turned his head, his amber eyes settling on the two older disciples, and a mocking smile spread across his thin lips.

“Stronger than him, you say?” he asked, his voice irritating yet carrying the weight of an inescapable judgment. “I suppose your strength is directly proportional to your ability to spew nonsense, isn’t it?”

The young man’s smile widened, filled with barely concealed disdain.

“Some of you took five years to reach the ninth level of Qi Condensation, while that boy named Wei Han did it in months. Perhaps you should spend less time talking trash and more time cultivating your own ‘strength.’ Or maybe… you simply lack talent.”

With those words, Long Bai turned around and continued on his way, leaving the male disciples flushed, humiliated, and without a single word to respond.

Meanwhile, Wei Han had already arrived at his residence. The difference from the others was immediately apparent: the courtyard that should have been full of vitality was now a mess. The overturned soil, broken plants, and cracked paths all testified to a recent and brutal force.

At the sight of it, he recalled his first day in this residence. After receiving his first sword from his master, he had tested it using the technique he had chosen from the pagoda. Without realizing it, he had turned the place into his own personal battlefield. Remembering those days, for a brief moment, he felt something unusual—a faint trace of something akin to nostalgia.

Although he knew the situation of certain people, when it came to Jin Yuchen, he knew absolutely nothing. What had become of him? The question lingered within the cold logic of his mind.

In the midst of his thoughts, a melodic and sweet voice, yet brimming with vibrant energy, sounded behind him.

“Senior Brother Wei! I finally found you! I’ve been looking for you for a while to practice swordsmanship!”

Wei Han let out a tired sigh—something extremely rare for him.

In front of him, the young girl came to a stop with energetic momentum. Her high ponytail bounced lightly before settling against her back.

Her large, lively eyes looked at him with an admiration she couldn’t hide.

She held a sheathed sword almost as big as herself, yet carried it with complete ease, as if it weighed nothing at all.

A proud and satisfied smile spread across her youthful face.

“And the best part is, I’ve improved my Dancing Lotus technique! Today I’m going to beat you!” she exclaimed with bubbling confidence.

With a resigned look, Wei Han turned to face her, his usual indifferent expression masking any trace of the strange emotion stirring within him.