A max-level player in Jade Dynasty: Awakening the Innate Dao at the start.

Under the old pine tree outside the Ancestral Hall on the back mountain of Tongtian Peak...

The sound of the wind blowing through the gaps in the woods is like the sigh of time.

Wan Jianyi stopped what he was doing.

Upon hearing Zhang Xiaofan's words, "You must forge your own path to immortality," his withered hand clenched tightly.

"Become an immortal?" Wan Jian's voice was terribly hoarse.

"Even a figure like Master Qingye, who lived his whole life, never dared to say that he could become an immortal."

Do you know how heavy those two words are?

Zhang Xiaofan turned around.

The boy stood on the stone steps, his back to the afternoon sun.

The shadow was stretched long, all the way to the mottled threshold of the ancestral hall.

Just because someone didn't go there before doesn't mean someone who doesn't will.

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

There were originally no roads in this world; it was the first person who left footprints.

The second person followed, and as more people walked, the wasteland became a main road.

Wan Jianyi was stunned.

He seemed to see himself a hundred years ago.

Holding the Dragon-Slaying Sword, standing amidst the Demonic Sect's overwhelming encirclement, his eyes once held such fearlessness.

But that sharp spirit has long been worn down by three hundred years of time, turning into ashes in the ancestral hall's incense burner.

"What a wonderful saying, 'When many people walk on it, it becomes a road.'"

Wan Jianyi suddenly laughed, but the laughter was followed by a cough.

"So, which path do you choose? A fire poker, or a dragon-slaying sword?"

The wind stopped.

Zhang Xiaofan's hand rested on the dark, short stick that had broken off at his waist.

It felt warm to the touch, with a faint, tingling sensation from the Bloodthirsty Beads and Soul-Capturing Rods imprinted deep within the soul.

He knew what Wan Jianyi was asking—

Should one choose the safe and smooth right path, or this treacherous and unpredictable road that belongs only to oneself?

"Once I've grasped it, I have no intention of letting go."

Wan Jianyi stared at the young man.

There was a familiar stubbornness in those eyes, but something different about them.

It wasn't youthful arrogance, but rather a kind of certainty that seemed to settle down after navigating life and death.

"You chose the dangerous one..."

Wan Jianyi murmured, "Just this willpower alone surpasses that of millions of people."

He suddenly started walking, not towards Zhang Xiaofan, but towards the edge of the cliff.

"Master Uncle?"

Wan Jianyi did not respond.

He reached his left hand into the air, and a clear, melodious sword cry echoed from the depths of the ancestral hall.

A beam of emerald light shot out of the window with a "whoosh," and the Dragon Slayer Sword sliced ​​through the air and landed in his palm.

The sword hummed slightly, as if responding to its master's fighting spirit that had never been extinguished for three hundred years.

Then he raised his hand and threw the sword away.

The action was swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

The emerald-green longsword plummeted into the abyss behind the mountain like a shooting star.

The sound of swords clashing faded into the distance, eventually being swallowed up by the rolling clouds and mist.

Zhang Xiaofan's pupils suddenly contracted.

At this moment, Wan Jianyi let out a long, deep breath.

The breath was very faint at first, then it became longer and longer.

His hunched back slowly began to straighten, and the withered, lifeless aura emanating from him...

Just like frozen soil meeting spring, cracking open inch by inch.

An astonishing change suddenly occurred.

Centered on Wan Jianyi, a wave of energy exploded out with a "boom"!

The fallen leaves on the ground turned to dust before they even had a chance to fly up, and the branches of the old pine tree shook violently.

A tangible pressure descended heavily, causing the stone steps to creak.

Zhang Xiaofan instantly took three steps back, holding the fire poker horizontally in front of him.

Black energy automatically surged from the staff, weaving into a dense net in front of him, isolating the surging pressure from the outside.

His sharp eyes scanned his surroundings—when one is having a breakthrough, it is most taboo to be disturbed.

In the courtyard of the ancestral hall, the spiritual energy surrounding Wan Jian had formed a vortex.

What's most frightening is his body.

The gray hair on the right side of his head was turning black at a visible rate.

The hair spreads from the roots to the tips, the black and white contrasting sharply as if yin and yang had separated the dawn.

From the empty right sleeve came the faint sound of muscles twitching.

Like silkworms eating mulberry leaves, each arm bone regrows under the infusion of spiritual energy.

The new skin spreads down from the shoulders, gleaming with a jade-like luster.

An hour has passed.

As the fallen leaves and dust settled, Wan Jian opened his eyes.

The turbidity in his eyes completely disappeared, leaving them as clear as if they had just been washed.

He raised his newborn right hand, his five fingers spreading and then clenching.

The movements went from being awkward at the beginning to becoming smooth.

"Half-step Taiqing." Wan Jianyi's voice changed; it was no longer hoarse, but deep and resonant like the tolling of a bell.

"Twenty years... no, perhaps it won't take that long, I will definitely be able to enter the Taiqing Realm."

Zhang Xiaofan removed the barrier in front of him, and was deeply shocked.

Half-step to Taiqing! Besides Sect Leader Daoxuan, the Qingyun Sect has produced another person who has touched this realm.

But the words "twenty years" made his eyes darken.

The Calamity of the Beast God, the Blood Array of the Four Spirits... Time waits for no one.

If Master Wan still hasn't broken through by then, that enormous burden will eventually fall back on my shoulders.

"Alright then." Zhang Xiaofan clenched his fist inwardly.

Since he has been given the chance to walk this path again in this life, he should protect those who would otherwise perish.

With Master Wan alive, Qingyun Sect has one more pillar that can hold up the sky.

Inside the ancestral hall, wisps of incense smoke drifted gently.

"There's something I'd like to ask my senior uncle for help with."

Zhang Xiaofan bowed slightly. "I hope my senior uncle won't tell the sect leader about my breakthrough to the Shangqing Realm."

Wan Jianyi, still adjusting to his newly grown arm, raised an eyebrow upon hearing this: "Trying to hide it?"

"It's never a bad thing to keep your cards close to your chest."

"That's cautious enough." Wan Jian nodded. "I agree."

Zhang Xiaofan looked up, and when he spoke about the second thing, his pace slowed down even more:

"I have another request... I would like to recommend someone to my senior master."

"Who?"

"Lin Jingyu, a disciple of Dragon Head Peak."

Wan Jianyi frowned:

"After I teach you, you'll always seem incredibly stupid to others. I won't teach you anymore."

"He's different."

Zhang Xiaofan took half a step forward.

"Lin Jingyu has an extremely high talent for swordsmanship. His temperament, bone structure, and sharpness are seven-tenths like yours back then."

Wan Jianyi dusted off the fresh incense ash from his sleeves but didn't reply.

"After the tragedy in Caomiao Village, I was tried at Tongtian Peak."

Zhang Xiaofan lowered his voice, "The elders of each lineage questioned him, and his fellow disciples looked at him with disapproval."

Only he stepped forward, risking his life and future to testify for me. He said, "Xiao Fan is my brother."

The ancestral hall fell silent.

Wan Jianyi recalled that many years ago, someone had stood in front of him like this, saying, "He is my junior brother."

Later, that person became the leader of the Qingyun Sect, while he became the person who guarded the tomb in the ancestral hall.

"Brother..." Wan Jianyi repeated the two words, looking at Zhang Xiaofan with a complicated expression, "You are indeed loyal and righteous."

"Please, Master Uncle, give him a chance for the sake of your disciple."

After a long while, Wan Jianyi finally waved his hand, his gesture carrying a hint of impatience:

"Fine. Let him sweep the floor of the ancestral hall after the Seven Sects Martial Arts Tournament."

Zhang Xiaofan bowed deeply: "Thank you, Senior Uncle."

When it was time to say goodbye, Wan Jianyi saw him to the door.

The setting sun dyed his half-black, half-white hair golden, and his newly grown arms hung at his sides, making him look no different from an ordinary person.

"The first place in the Seven Peaks Martial Arts Tournament is already yours."

Wan Jianyi's tone regained some of its teasing tone, "Don't embarrass my old face."

Zhang Xiaofan stepped down the stone steps, turned back and smiled: "When have I ever disappointed you?"

His figure disappeared at the end of the path.

Wan Jianyi stood there for a long time before bending down to pick up the broom from the ground.

He suddenly stopped halfway through the action.

The newly grown right hand was not yet fully skilled in controlling its strength, and the broom handle cracked with a "crack".

He looked at the crack, then at the empty stone steps.

The wind blew through the ancestral hall, stirring up the fallen leaves that hadn't been swept clean.

This ancestral hall is huge. I didn't realize it when I had someone to talk to when I was with others these past two years.

Now, however, I feel a sense of desolation in every corner.

It turns out that once you get used to having someone by your side, loneliness becomes especially hard to bear.

The way down the mountain must pass through the Yuqing Hall.

Zhang Xiaofan straightened his robes outside the hall.

I haven't been back for two years, but the main hall of Tongtian Peak is still as majestic and solemn as ever.

The white marble steps, bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, looked as if they were covered with a layer of molten gold.

He walked up the steps one by one.

The palace doors were open, and the interior was dimly lit.

The statue of the deity appeared and disappeared amidst the wisps of incense smoke, while the flame of the eternal lamp flickered erratically.

Then he saw that a person was sitting in the main seat of the sect leader.

Dao Xuan Zhenren sat there upright, like a deep, resonant bell.

A dark Taoist robe hung down on both sides of the chair, and his hands were placed flat on his knees.

He seemed to have been sitting there for a long time, or perhaps he had come here specifically to wait.

There were no other disciples in the hall, and even the elders on duty were nowhere to be seen.

Zhang Xiaofan paused for a moment at the threshold, then walked in calmly and bowed.

"Disciple Zhang Xiaofan greets Sect Leader Uncle."

Dao Xuan's gaze fell on him.

His gaze was peaceful, yet it seemed to penetrate the skin and flesh, reaching deep into the mind.

The last ray of sunlight outside the hall had faded, and the ever-burning lamp cast long, elongated shadows of the two people onto the smooth, mirror-like ground.

The moment their eyes met, Zhang Xiaofan understood—this leader of the Qingyun Sect had indeed been waiting for his return.