After the Immortal Disappeared

”Her meals are all brought in by her personal maids. We tried asking them on the sly, but their lips are sealed. They won’t say a word and even warned us not to spread rumors.”

”That mysterious, huh?”

”You bet. She’s so precious she can’t even see the sun. Not like us, out in the wind and rain.”

The other farm woman sighed. ”Actually, we have it pretty good. Our village has a standing deal to sell our produce to the Li Family down south, so we don’t worry about sales. Even in this famine, we can still get by. Look at other villages in the area—everyone’s already fled.”

Aunt Liu sucked in a breath. ”That noble lady couldn’t be from the Li Family, could she? You see how the Village Chief is treating her like a revered ancestor.”

They chatted for a few more moments when they felt drops on their heads. Looking up, they saw dark, rain-filled clouds rolling in.

The weather in the mountains is as fickle as a child’s mood, changing several times a day without warning. The two of them had no choice but to hastily pack their things and hurry home.

Before they had gone more than a few steps, dozens of riders came galloping up the mountain path. The leader reined in his horse and looked down at them. ”Ma’ams, which way to Thunderbolt Village?”

Her companion opened her mouth to answer, but Aunt Liu pulled her back and asked warily, ”Who are you?”

The rider pulled out a token from his waist and flashed it in front of them. ”Xiazhou Prefecture, on official business. Your cooperation is mandatory.”

The token glowed with a faint light. Though neither Aunt Liu nor her companion could read, they’d heard that officials all possessed a practical, glowing treasure called a Society Command.

The token the rider produced carried an intimidating authority.

Seeing that the thirty-odd riders were fully armed, Aunt Liu lost her nerve. She had no choice but to point west. ”Follow this road for about a third of a mile and you’ll be there.”

With a whistle, the rider led the thirty-plus men galloping west.

Just then, the rain began to pour.

Clutching their washing tubs and ducking their heads, Aunt Liu and her friend hurried home, sloshing through the mud and puddles.

The two were uncharacteristically quiet, unlike their usual selves who would be cursing the weather.

’What on earth are those thirty-odd riders going to do in Thunderbolt Village? Is it really just official business?’

In moments, the torrential downpour was so fierce they could barely open their eyes.

They were forced to slow down.

By the time they finally struggled back to the village entrance, they saw the same group of riders heading toward them. It seemed they had already finished their business and were leaving Thunderbolt Village.

Unlike before, there was now a horse-drawn carriage in their midst.

The carriage was surrounded by the riders, part escort, part prison transport.

Despite the downpour, the villagers had all come out to watch the spectacle. Aunt Liu saw the largest crowd was gathered around the Village Chief’s house and gasped, ”They really were here for the Village Chief!”

Everyone in Thunderbolt Village knew everyone else. She grabbed a gawking farmer she knew. ”Li, my boy, what happened at the Village Chief’s house?”

”Looks like the Officials came. They dragged a few people out of the Village Chief’s house, said they were harboring a fugitive!”

”A fugitive? What fugitive could that be?” Aunt Liu immediately thought of the supposed noblewoman.

Another villager chimed in, ”I think someone died in there! I saw blood on the ground a minute ago!”

Aunt Liu exclaimed in shock, ”Someone died at the Village Chief’s house?”

”It didn’t look like anyone from the Village Chief’s family...”

But the word got out, and soon the story became:

Lots of people died at the Village Chief’s house.

...

At the front lines, it was also pouring rain.

The normally bustling army camp was eerily quiet. Everyone was holed up in their tents, leaving only the guards on duty to stand dejectedly outside and in the watchtowers, getting drenched.

Thieves have a saying: steal in wind, not moonlight; in rain, not snow. The same principle applies to military raids.

This kind of weather was perfect for an enemy to use as cover for an attack, so defenses had to be heightened.

Therefore, the Yuan Army was on high alert, their nerves taut with caution.

The Hanhe River’s currents had been growing violent since the afternoon. The soldiers were careful to stay away from the banks, fearing a sudden collapse.

Only Eldest Young Master Hee, that troublemaker who lives to court death, saw the rising water and surging waves, let out a loud laugh, and waded into the river, blade in hand.

This scared everyone witless. The guards hurried to report it, and Zhao Pan, terrified that Chief Steward Hee’s precious son might die in his camp, rushed to have him informed.

Hee Chunhua shot to his feet, slamming his hand on the table, ready to drag that wretched son of his back for a tongue-lashing. Luckily, Shan Youjun returned just then to explain that the Eldest Young Master was on the verge of a breakthrough and needed to practice his Sword Technique in the river.

’What kind of Sword Technique can’t be practiced on the bank or on level ground? Why does he have to go into the strongest part of the current?’

”He’s serious? What Sword Technique is he practicing?”

Shan Youjun replied, ”The Eldest Young Master says he couldn’t be more serious. He’s practicing the Bolang Blade.”

Hee Chunhua thought for a moment, then slowly sat back down. ”Go and keep an eye on him. If anything happens, I’m holding you responsible!”

”The Eldest Young Master has a rope tied to his waist,” Shan Youjun said with a smile. ”If he gets swept away, we can pull him back to shore.”

With no other choice, Hee Chunhua consented.

When Zhao Pan heard the outcome, he secretly shook his head.

’This Chief Steward Hee is so sharp and capable, so why is he so indulgent with his own son?’

’Oh well. I’ve done my duty by warning them. What happens next isn’t my problem.’

Meanwhile, Hee Lingchuan saw the churning waves, stripped off his shirt, and waded into the water, gripping his Floating Life Blade.

He wasn’t completely reckless; he found a solid slab of rock to use as a foothold.

What was the name of the Sword Technique he was practicing?

Wave Slash.

He had been arduously practicing this Sword Technique for several months, both in reality and in the Dream Realm, making great strides in the key principles of speed, stability, and precision. This was because Wave Slash could be combined with the Swallow Returning Body Technique he cultivated, transforming into the Returning Swallow Slash.

His blade could be as swift as a swallow was light.

But he couldn’t quite grasp the continuous, majestic, and powerful momentum inherent in the Sword Technique.

After all, the technique was called ”Wave Slash.” If you tried to practice it without any waves, the results were bound to be subpar.

Hee Lingchuan had also tried practicing with his blade in the great lake of the Panlong Dream Realm. The water was deep enough, but he found the lake simply wasn’t turbulent enough, not to mention it was freezing cold.

How could he not cherish such a god-sent opportunity?

The force of the current grew stronger. His first few dozen attempts to cleave the water were not only ineffective, but they threw him off balance. He slipped on the rocks and swallowed mouthful after mouthful of river water.

The guards above pointed and laughed at the fool down below.

Gradually, however, Hee Lingchuan stopped stumbling, even though the rock beneath his feet was slick from the rushing water.

The True Power cultivated in his Dantian began to circulate efficiently, sinking down to his feet and anchoring his lower body like a boulder.

Afterward, his swings grew slower and slower.

Slow, to achieve stability. Slow, to achieve continuity.

Slow, and the force of the current against the blade grew even stronger.

As the water eddied around him, Hee Lingchuan recalled Commander Xiao Maoliang’s spear thrusts during his fight with the Giant Meng Shan in the Riqing River Valley. They were as swift as lightning, utterly relentless.

He also thought of Nian Songyu, who, possessed by Deities, had battled the Black Flood Dragon in the Coiling Dragon Illusion Realm. His Sword Technique had been grand and sweeping, radiating overwhelming power.

And as he mentally recited the Mantra for Wave Slash, he used his surroundings to internalize the core concept: the water’s ceaseless, unpredictable, formless, yet powerful nature.

One muddy yellow wave after another crashed over him. Hee Lingchuan had never felt anything like it—the agonizing sensation of being shoved, crushed, and torn at from all sides.

Perhaps this, too, was the essence of Wave Slash:

The application of ”force.”

As he tenaciously swung his sixty-seventh slash, the oncoming wave seemed to falter for an instant, its impact on him greatly diminished.

But up on the bank, Shan Youjun was already pointing west and shouting, ”Master, get back up here! A huge wave is coming!”

The next wave crashed down on Hee Lingchuan’s head, completely submerging him.

SPUTTERING, he swallowed another mouthful of water, sheathed his blade, and tugged on the rope. ’I’m here to train, not to drown myself.’

The Personal Guards on the bank worked together to haul him ashore.

Hee Lingchuan was soaked to the bone. He had just shaken the water from his hair when a massive wave surged over the bank, and with a deafening BOOM, the very rock he had been standing on was submerged.

The wave was enormous. Everyone scrambled back.

The Hanhe River was normally clear, but the massive waves surging from the west were thick with mud, sand, stones, and branches, charging forth like a ferocious yellow dragon.

The ground beneath their feet trembled from the force. Leaning on his blade for support, Hee Lingchuan silently felt the river’s violent rage, and his own heart surged as if in resonance.

Water is formless yet powerful, just like the blade intent he was coming to understand.

Rainwater streamed down his face from forehead to chin. With his hand on the hilt of his blade, Hee Lingchuan suddenly slashed forward at an angle.

In front of him, a small tree thrashed wildly in the gale, its branches swaying chaotically, yet not a single one was severed.

His swing wasn’t fast, and the motion itself seemed unsteady.

Shan Youjun and the others said nothing, but a nearby sentry couldn’t help but chuckle.

’Is this Eldest Young Master Hee just a Silver Spear Candle Head?’ he thought. ’Goes down to the river to slash at water during a storm, then comes up and tries to show off again, only to not even cut a single leaf. Hilarious.’

He’d thought guard duty by the river would be dangerous and dull, but who knew he’d get a free show today.

With a CLANG, Hee Lingchuan sheathed his blade. He gave the sentries a small smile, then turned and walked away.

He had walked about fifty or sixty feet when the two sentries, still chuckling and chatting, heard a low CRACK.

They looked back just in time to see a section of the riverbank larger than a round table suddenly fracture. A crack appeared, widened into a trench, and then the entire slab of hard-packed earth collapsed into the torrent.

This section of ground was about ten feet behind the small tree Hee Lingchuan had swung at.

The two men stopped laughing and stared at each other, dumbfounded.

’Could Eldest Young Master Hee’s Saber Qi have passed through that thrashing tree and severed the earth behind it?’

It hadn’t rained all winter; one could only imagine how hard the riverbank was. The amount of force needed to cleave it was immense.

’Besides, with hundreds of the little tree’s branches whipping about in the wind, could the Saber Qi have really woven through them without so much as nicking one?’

’It has to be a coincidence. It must be.’

Hee Lingchuan couldn’t have cared less what those two were thinking. After executing that slash, born of perfect timing and circumstance, his mind felt clear and his spirit refreshed. Even his breathing was smoother, the heavy, waterlogged feeling completely gone.

’Could I do it again?’

’Hard to say. I’m not sure myself.’

He wouldn’t dare say this serendipitous moment had raised his Cultivation or realm, but he had at least achieved a breakthrough in his blade intent, bringing him closer to a state of harmony.

His mastery of the Wave Slash Skill had taken a small step forward.

Now, he just had to reinforce and consolidate this progress as quickly as possible.

And so, he returned to his tent with a light step, whistling a little tune along the way.

But as he passed the Central Army Tent, he seemed to hear arguing from within. One of the voices belonged to his father, Hee Chunhua.

Without a second thought, Hee Lingchuan started to head straight inside.

The Guard at the tent flap stopped him. ”Halt! No entry without being summoned!”

Not bothering to argue, Hee Lingchuan simply yelled, ”Dad!”

”Chuan’Er?” Hee Chunhua’s voice carried out. ”Come in!”