35: Chapter 35 Time is like a knife, and longevity is often lonely.

Qingmu Market.

The morning mist had not yet dispersed. Su Tie, dressed in a dark green steward's robe, walked along the busiest main street of the market.

On both sides of the street, the itinerant cultivators and low-level cultivators passing by would stop respectfully upon seeing him, lowering their heads to make way, and calling out, "Elder Su."

Su Tie nodded slightly, his steps steady.

But only he knew how fast his aged heart was beating as he walked along this familiar bluestone road.

Fifty years ago, he was also on this street.

To earn a few low-grade spirit stones, he had worked like a laborer, helping others unload the corpses of demonic beasts, and still had to endure the looks of the main branch disciples.

But now, he, Su Tie, was a powerful elder of a Foundation Establishment family.

Every shop and every acre of spirit farmland in this market, built on a first-grade high-grade spirit vein, was the private property of their bloodline.

It was not just Su Tie.

The collateral branch disciples who had followed Su Yu in fleeing from Black Wind Valley back then now walked through the mansion and the market with their heads held high.

That was the confidence granted to them by forty-five years of forbearance and the absolute military might of a Foundation Establishment ancestor.

However, the prosperity of the family could not mask the ruthlessness of time.

For those mortal wives and concubines of Su Yu who lacked spiritual roots.

Even with the nourishment of spirit rice and various longevity-extending pills, their physical bodies ultimately could not withstand the limits of their lifespans.

Song Qingwan and Lin Xiu, who were in their seventies, although they still maintained the plump and graceful appearance of women in their forties on the outside, with black hair and rosy skin, this was merely an illusion built up by medicine.

Their internal vitality was like fallen leaves in autumn; not only were their movements sluggish, but even every breath they took was filled with an unconcealable exhaustion.

Qianlong Su Family, inner residence.

Compared to the pride and elation outside, the atmosphere in the inner residence was quiet and elegant.

In the spacious warm chamber, precious spirit incense that nourished the vitality of Mortal was burning.

Lin Xiu leaned on a soft couch, draped in a quilt made of snow silkworm silk that was worth thousands of gold.

The ambitious third concubine who had once wanted to show off her power among the Mortal had indeed lived a life of luxury that Mortal dared not even imagine.

She looked at Su Yu, who was pushing the door and entering the warm chamber, and a flash of extremely complex emotion crossed her eyes—it was awe, attachment, and an even deeper helplessness toward the chasm between immortals and Mortal.

Although Su Yu was already a hundred years old, his Ninth Layer of Qi Refining true essence firmly locked his physical body in his prime.

The difference between immortals and Mortal was vividly displayed under the carving knife of time.

"If you feel cold, tell the servants to add a few more braziers."

Su Yu walked forward and tucked the corner of the quilt for Lin Xiu, his tone as gentle as it had been decades ago.

He did not resent the aging of these mortal wives and concubines; he simply accepted this irreversible fact calmly.

Lin Xiu, on the couch, looked at his face that still appeared middle-aged, and her thoughts drifted to the past.

When she was young, she had obsessively longed for her husband to achieve Foundation Establishment soon, fantasizing that she could use this immortal glory to enjoy prosperity in this cultivation family for a long time.

But now she understood that some distances, even if one spent a lifetime trying to bridge them, were ultimately futile.

...

As the Qianlong Su Family took deep root here.

With the deterrence of Su Yuan, a Foundation Establishment cultivator, no other force within a five-hundred-mile radius dared to provoke the Su Family.

The family entered a period of absolute stability and development.

The nourishment of the first-grade high-grade spirit vein allowed the cultivation progress of the third and fourth generations of descendants to be very rapid.

Secular industries were also steadily expanding, continuously supplying resources.

And in this peaceful and prosperous age, the passage of time seemed to become imperceptible.

In a blink, another twenty years passed.

Su Yu celebrated his one-hundredth birthday.

The limit of the lifespan for the Ninth Level of Qi Refining is one hundred and twenty years; he was still far from the end.

But those mortal relatives around him had already encountered the unstoppable five decays of heaven and man in these twenty years of wind and frost.

The first to leave was Qing'er.

The maid who had followed him from the outskirts of Qingmu Market and had the gentlest temperament.

She left very peacefully; it was on a spring afternoon, and she stopped breathing quietly in her sleep.

A few years later, Lin Xiu also passed away.

Before she died, she insisted on wearing the luxurious ceremonial dress that only mortal women with noble titles could wear.

She gripped Su Yu's hand tightly, her eyes unfocused but filled with a stubborn satisfaction.

"Husband... in this life, I have worn gold and silver, received the kowtows of others... it is enough."

Su Yu sat by the bed, not sighing, just calmly closing her eyes.

The funeral processions walked out of the inner residence of the Qianlong Su Family time and time again, to be buried in the family cemetery specially opened in the back mountain.

The noisy and crowded inner residence of those years was now left with only Song Qingwan.

At over ninety years old, even for a mortal, this was the limit.

In winter, heavy snow fell.

In the warm chamber, Song Qingwan lay on the bed.

Although she looked only in her fifties on the outside, her eyes had completely lost their luster.

Su Yu sat on the edge of the bed.

Just like the night more than seventy years ago when the Internal Affairs Hall assigned their marriage, he sat calmly in front of her.

"Husband..."

Song Qingwan's voice was as weak as a gossamer thread; she turned her head with great effort, looking at Su Yu's face, which remained unchanged.

"Back then, you chose me in the Internal Affairs Hall... it was the greatest blessing of my life."

"I have no spiritual roots and cannot help you with cultivation... I can only manage this inner residence for you and leave you with a few more descendants..."

"You did very well."

Su Yu reached out and gently held her slightly cold palm.

"You have managed the household for most of your life and kept this estate clean and orderly; thank you for your hard work."

Hearing these words, the corners of Song Qingwan's mouth lifted slightly.

She looked at the top of the bed curtains, as if she saw again the callow steward from seventy years ago, holding an umbrella and leading her into the small courtyard.

"The immortal path is long... please take care of yourself in the future..."

Holding Su Yu's hand, she slowly lost her last ounce of strength.

Song Qingwan passed away peacefully on this snowy day with a smile.

Su Yu sat quietly by the bed, holding that hand that was gradually turning cold, and did not move for a long time.

...

Back mountain, cemetery.

Heavy snow sealed the mountains, and the world was a vast expanse of white.

Rows of neatly repaired tombstones stood silently in the wind and snow.

Except for the eldest son, Su Cheng, who had passed away in his early years, there was now another row of lonely graves for the mortal wives and concubines.

Su Yu was wearing a plain-colored robe, without an umbrella, letting the accumulated snow fall on his shoulders.

He carried a pot of warmed wine and walked slowly to Song Qingwan's tombstone.

There were no heartbreaking cries, nor any desperate pleas to stay.

Cultivation, cultivation.

In the end, one is destined to bury with their own hands those fellow travelers who cannot continue the journey together.

This is the loneliness and cruelty that one must swallow on the path of longevity.

Su Yu looked at the wind, snow, and lonely graves, but he did not shed a tear.

Because he knew very well that birth, old age, sickness, and death, the cycle of the heavenly way, was the inevitable destination for Mortal.

He had already used every means to give them the ultimate stability and wealth that Mortal could achieve.

They left without regrets.

He, too, had no regrets.