Chapter Thirty-Two: The Illusory Returns! (Fourth Update)

In the distance, suspended in mid-air, a figure draped in green sat cross-legged above the ground. This figure wore flowing emerald robes, his face concealed by a green veil. Curiously, his right hand held a jade-green bamboo staff, which also hung in the air. If you looked squarely at him, you would recognize him as Lu Zhe’s master, Elder Ye. At this moment, Elder Ye was gazing intently into the depths of a distant forest.

After a while, Elder Ye bowed his head and sighed. “Ah, it’s only been a few days, and that little rascal has already landed himself in so much trouble.”

No sooner had his words faded when a loud cry of “Master!” echoed from afar. Elder Ye let out a wry, bitter chuckle. Calmly, he said, “Your young master is in trouble; shouldn’t you go and help him?”

Not far behind Elder Ye, the air began to ripple, forming a vortex that spun clockwise—just as it had when Lu Zhe had stood on the platform. From within the swirling energy, a figure in black robes slowly appeared behind Elder Ye.

The newcomer greeted Elder Ye with a respectful gesture. “With you here, I suppose there’s no need for me to intervene.”

Elder Ye tapped the air with his bamboo staff as though touching solid ground and slowly rose to his feet, his gaze never straying from the spot where Lu Zhe was. He replied coolly, “No rush, no rush. According to that fellow Xue Fei’s information, in this situation, that ‘thing’ inside him should soon emerge.”

The man in black robes was startled. “You mean… him?”

Elder Ye did not respond, nor did he move, but continued to watch the place where Lu Zhe stood.

Deep in the mountains, beside a small waterfall, a blood-soaked youth stood alone. The boy gripped a sharp fang in his hand and threw his head back, shouting to the sky. He called for a long time, yet no one answered. At last, he seemed to give up and lowered his head.

“It’s useless, shouting won’t help,” Lu Zhe said quietly.

If his master had truly abandoned him here, there was no hope of rescue; he could rely only on himself now.

A mournful howl pierced the air, and with a flurry of rustling, several more wolves bounded out of the forest. Counting carefully, there were far more blue wolves this time than before—a dozen or so at least. Clearly, they had sensed that Lu Zhe was now at the end of his strength.

The newly arrived blue wolves let out low howls, their eyes fixed intently on Lu Zhe standing by the stream.

Lu Zhe looked at the wolves and managed a bitter smile. “So this is how my journey ends. Carefree? Hah. Carefree was just a lie I told myself. In the end, I’m still just a child nobody wants.” The thought twisted his mouth into a grimace as he glanced up at the sun.

Today, the sunlight seemed blinding—far brighter than usual, as if it would burn his eyes away.

“I’m a child that nobody wants,” he muttered bitterly to himself.

“Are you ready to give up already?” Just as Lu Zhe was about to surrender to despair, a voice sounded in his mind.

He paid it no mind; it seemed almost natural, as if it were just his faltering consciousness playing tricks on him. He answered dully, “Yes, I give up.”

“In that case, surrender your body to me,” the voice replied, cold as frost.

No sooner had the words faded than it felt as though his mind was being torn apart. Lu Zhe’s awareness grew dim, and finally, it was as if he plunged into a bottomless black abyss—sensation gone, thought gone.

The blue wolves in front of him watched as Lu Zhe stared at the sun for a while, gritted his teeth, and then bowed his head, motionless.

High in the air, Elder Ye watched the scene unfold below and murmured, “It’s begun.”

The blue wolves, after a cautious moment, saw that Lu Zhe was unresponsive. One bolder wolf leaped forward, approaching his side.

With a sudden movement, Lu Zhe’s right fist lashed out, hurling the wolf high into the air before it crashed down far away.

The pack erupted in startled yelps. No one had expected such strength from one on the brink of death.

A furious howl rang from the wolves—it must have been the wolf king’s rage. At once, the front ranks of blue wolves charged at Lu Zhe like mad beasts.

But as they closed in, Lu Zhe struck with lightning speed, sending them flying dozens of yards. Some crashed through nearby trees, snapping thick trunks in two—so great was the power of his blows.

A surge of mighty spiritual power erupted from beneath “Lu Zhe’s” feet, spreading out through the forest.

As its pressure swept through the woods, the hidden wolf packs let out cries of alarm, cowed by the spiritual might radiating from Lu Zhe.

“Hmph, can’t even handle a pack of beasts?” “Lu Zhe” slowly raised his head, revealing a face twisted in a cold, sharp smile—the very same face that had thrown the Jin Axe Gang into chaos a year ago: Xu Miao.

Xu Miao flexed his limbs experimentally, but when he moved his left arm, a sharp pain from his shoulder forced him to stop.

He turned his head to examine his left shoulder, then used his right hand to tear away the bloodied cloth. Inspecting the still-bleeding wound, he gave his left arm a shake, formed a seal with his right hand, and quickly tapped several points on his shoulder. The bleeding stopped.

His gaze shifted down to his legs. Xu Miao snorted coldly, and as before, tapped a few points on his legs—immediately, the blood ceased to flow.

“Being beaten up by a few beasts—what disgrace,” he muttered to himself.

His eyes turned icy, gleaming with a deathly cold as he glared at the wolves lurking in the forest.

He moved his legs, but when he tried to put weight on the left one, a stabbing pain made him halt again.

“Tch.” He looked at his left leg and snorted.

Glancing at the forest ahead, then down at his left hand, he said coldly, “Damn it. Like this, I can’t use Windstep, nor can I form hand seals.”

Fixing the wolves with a chilling glare, Xu Miao said indifferently, “Can’t even take care of your own body; what a nuisance you are to me.” His eyes grew colder still, and his voice dropped to a deadly whisper, “Still, even so, I can go on a killing spree. It’s been so long since I emerged, so long since I’ve smelled blood. I’m dying of frustration.”

From afar, Elder Ye watched everything unfold in silence and mused, “How is this one’s soul so tenacious? Could it be…?”

He turned to the man in black and said quietly, “If I’m not mistaken, your second young master is that ‘one’ who is born only once every hundred thousand years, isn’t he?”

The black-robed man replied coolly, “I cannot answer that.”

Though he said nothing, Elder Ye could see the faint tremor that ran through him at those words.

Elder Ye paid the reply no mind. He had already drawn his own conclusions from the man’s reaction. Now, his eyes grew solemn as he stared at where Xu Miao stood and murmured to himself, “Ye Liu, Ye Liu… The only disciple you ever took is a chosen son of heaven. You’ve truly found a treasure.”

(I’m afraid I’m at my limit, dear readers. Though my fever has subsided, my body can hardly bear writing through the night. But since I go by the name ‘Gentleman,’ I cannot break my word. There will be another chapter—so long as you can endure, I’ll risk my health to write for you. Please, add this story to your collections and recommend it to others. Your support gives me strength to continue.)