Rebirth of the Peak Young Master-Chapter 1226: Lost

The young Cultivator walked slowly. Unlike Ye Fengsheng's blindfolded steps, each of his movements seemed as if he were crawling. He was not dressed in the traditional black and white robe, nor did he carry a wooden sword. Walking on the sidewalk, he frequently caught the attention of passersby.

Perhaps it was because the young monk was so handsome, or because he had encountered a Taoist priest in a place closest to the world of Immortals, or perhaps because in the modern society dominated by high technology, a fraudster had appeared.

Amidst the varied glances of the people, the young Cultivator walked into a nearby inn. If someone observed closely, they would notice that every step he took was identical in distance, and even his foot positions could form a straight line.

He nodded in greeting to the receptionist at the inn's front desk. Without needing anyone to guide him, the young monk headed along the staircase at the corner. He was neither in a hurry nor leisurely. After a while, he finally reached his destination.

The bright eyes gazed outside the door, and after waiting a moment, he reached out to open it.

The emaciated old man placed the teapot on the small table in front of his chest. Due to bone pain, his arm trembled slightly.

It seemed that Ye Fengsheng also knew that the person arriving was not him. He attempted to rise from the recliner, reaching for the teacup beside him as if nothing had happened. At the same time, he slowly turned around, focusing his gaze on the young monk.

The young Cultivator's eyes were slightly red. He looked at the old Cultivator, a teacher and a friend. He still wished to feign indifference in despair. Having traveled hundreds of miles, his body began to tremble violently, barely holding half of his chaotic steps.

The young monk stood in front of the door, not uttering a word. Only his clenched fists evidenced his current emotional turmoil. Presently, this elder monk had once seriously self-studied on the path of cultivation, offering the greatest leniency, yet was now so severe that, after only a few days, he seemed devoid of vitality and glow, without even having the chance to taste the promised osmanthus wine for the last time.

From a cynical Mei Hai's son to the famous "Kunlun Sword Immortal" of Qilian Mountain, it all boiled down to the elder monk who had taken him up the mountain years ago.

Yu Tong held the purple clay teacup, enduring the pain in his bones, and smiled at the young monk who had come from Kunlun overnight. He didn't ask, "How did you get here," but rather murmured, "I promised to drink your osmanthus wine. Now it seems I can't anymore."

The young Cultivator quickly took a few steps, reaching for the red clay teapot, intending to pour Yu Tong another cup. However, the pot was empty. He could only reluctantly set the teapot down and sit in the closest position to Yu Tong. He took a deep breath, calming himself, saying, "You can continue drinking. You told me to keep my word. I did, and you cannot break the agreement."

Yu Tong, playing with the teacup in his palm, appeared somewhat languid, his wrinkled face conveying a sense of endless fatigue: "There are always unexpected events, encountering such matters relying on human effort is impossible."

The young Cultivator's eyes turned red, and his mouth twitched. He said, "You've never gone back on a promise in your life, but now you have to confess on the brink of death. Isn't it a long time?"

Yu Tong looked at the other solemnly and replied, "I deceived you. If everyone disbelieves what they say, they would encounter such situations. Only the Saint cannot act according to their word."

"I believe. It's true."

The young Cultivator's words were persistent.

Yu Tong didn't speak further. They closed their eyes.

The young monk headed downstairs with the teapot line, changed to a new teapot, and filled Yu Tong's teacup.

There was no need to say, the matter between the old and the young did not need further attention. He merely wished to make the drinks for Yu Tong and himself a bit more comfortable.

Hot tea couldn't warm Yu Tong's icy body, yet it sharpened the young monk's gaze:

"Was it Ye Fengsheng?"

Yu Tong opened his eyes, looked at the young monk in front, and said, "No."

"It's his room,"

the young Cultivator stubbornly said. "Kunlun wants to kill him, but he saved you. He harbors a malevolent heart."

Yu Tonghe said, "Kunlun wants to kill him, but he saved me, his heart is open."

The young Cultivator sneered: "And a picture."

Yu Tonghe again said nothing, merely setting aside the half-cup of tea.

The young Cultivator said nothing, poured the remaining tea on the ground, refilled the cup, and handed it over.

Ye Fengsheng returned to the room, and at first glance saw the fragments of porcelain on the ground. He bent to pick them up. Then, he placed his eyes on Yu Tong and the reclined body in the lying chair. After a silence, he asked:

"Why not go back?"

Yu Tong attempted to open his eyes. Yu Tong glanced at Ye Fengsheng, didn't respond, or was reluctant to respond. He curled up and closed his eyes again.

"You should go back."

Ye Fengsheng said, "The Bone Spirit Green Eagle will go to Kunlun, you are a Kunlun person, you should frequently visit."

"What use is it to go?"

Yu Tong and he hadn't opened their eyes. Lazily, they said, "I am a person whose resources have dried up. Last night, I did everything I could for Zhan Guling's green sculpture. Even if it escaped, it is not my fault. I am worthy of heaven and earth. Even if I see my father in the netherworld, I can pat my chest and tell him Yu Tong's life 'so be it'"

Ye Fengsheng leaned against the wall, her face sneering coldly: "If you knew today, why did you start?"

"When the lamp has run dry, you realize your regret, yet shamelessly speak you do not regret. You are too hypocritical, Kunlun Cultivator."

Yu Tonghe opened his eyes, looked at Ye Fengsheng, and reversed the voice, saying one by one: "When the bone is green, it is public; Kunlun,

is private; because private overwhelms the public, the world is difficult, my choice bears no resentment towards heaven and earth, so even if I do the same thing again, how can I regret it?"

"Then you can carry your regret to the ground."

Ye Fengsheng waved to himself, disinclined to converse further. He sent Ying Lu to bring a fresh pot of tea downstairs. After consuming some food, he reclined in the chair, closing his eyes under the afternoon sun.

Even if he wished to go to Kunlun, he lacked the ability to survive. He feared he would be killed at the foot of the mountain. He didn't know that sharpening the knife does not harm the woodcutter. More importantly, Yu Tong and he informed him where Kunlun was last night. He didn't need any goodwill and had to be cautious. A fierce beast knew how to lure Ye Fengsheng to death, half an inch away, the old master could not act rashly.

They said that when a person approaches death, they speak kind words, but in this aspect, the old man had lost faith in Ye Fengsheng and did not return to Kunlun with others.

In the golden sunlight, old and young alike, closing their eyes, they could not hear each other's breath.

"I know you don't trust me." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Yu Tong suddenly opened again, Ye Fengsheng's eyelids twitched, yet remained closed.

Yu Tong and it didn't matter; he muttered to himself: "I still have half a month's time. Then, turn me into one. Collect the ashes and deliver them to Lu Mingxuan."

Ye Fengsheng said, "Who is Lu Mingxuan?"

"Kunlun Sword Immortal."

Yu Tong explained, "He is a sword embryo. Forty years ago, when I took him up the mountain, he was still young, unable to grasp the threshold of Qi Refinement. Forty years later today, he is Qilian Mountain's 'Kunlun Sword Immortal.'

Ye Feng's voice carried a slight frown: "What's his boundary?"

Yutong and replied naturally: "Higher than mine."

Ye Feng nodded: "He is a talent, a prodigy of refinement."