619: Chapter 619 Imperial Tutor (9)

After the young man finished speaking, the dilapidated temple was quiet for a long time.

The rain and snow were still falling outside, and the wind poured in through the broken roof, causing the campfire to flicker.

The few children huddled by the fire looked at the young man, their eyes filled with a strange expression.

They didn't understand the profound meaning behind those words; they only felt that this person was too bold to speak ill of Immortals right in front of the teacher.

Qin Yun stood there, the ruler in his hand neither lowered nor raised.

That sentence, "There is a person to the left of the character for Immortal," gently pricked his state of mind.

He had seen too many powerful figures.

He had seen Emperors, Pseudo-Immortals, and old monsters who treated the world as a chessboard.

They were all very high up.

So high that they had long forgotten that there were still people down the mountain.

But Qin Yun still believed that the young man before him was too young and too naive.

He had never seen the true Dao, had never seen the isolation at the end of the Immortal Path, nor had he seen that kind of great power capable of crushing all things in the world into ash.

For a Mortal to speak presumptuously of Immortals was indeed a bit arrogant.

"Bragging."

One child whispered.

"Exactly, he can't even get enough to eat, yet he dares to talk about Immortals."

Another child followed with a laugh.

The young man was not annoyed; he merely wrung out his soaked sleeve, water dripping into the fire and making a sizzling sound.

"I will prove it in the future."

He said.

Qin Yun finally spoke, his voice very calm.

"What is your name?"

The young man straightened his back, rainwater streaming down from his forehead, yet his eyes were bright.

"Lu Xingzhou."

After stating his name, he looked at the old teacher and added another sentence.

"I will come every day from now on."

"You teach, I listen."

"You speak of Immortals, and I shall debate."

"If I speak wrongly, I will correct it."

"If I am not wrong, I will continue to speak."

Qin Yun looked at him, and after a moment, he actually smiled.

"Good."

He only replied with one word.

In his view, this was just a slightly brighter spark met on the road of the Mortal World; interesting, but nothing more.

For the year that followed, Lu Xingzhou really came every day.

He wore those tattered clothes, sat in the very corner, warmed himself by the temple fire, and listened to Qin Yun teach the children to read.

Whenever Qin Yun spoke of "Immortals," "Sages," or "Virtuous Ones," he would always interject.

The children laughed at him at first, but later they got used to it.

In the second year, Lu Xingzhou began to study.

He read very slowly, but he remembered very firmly.

He often debated with Qin Yun at night, after all the children had left.

Should Immortals save the world?

Should the strong look after the weak?

Is cultivation for oneself, or for the people behind one?

In the third year, he grew taller, and his features became more defined.

He began practicing fist techniques outside the temple.

The fist techniques were very crude, every move learned from the hooligans in the village who fought, but he practiced every day until the skin on the back of his hands broke.

Qin Yun would occasionally glance at him, never offering guidance, nor exposing anything.

Lu Xingzhou did not ask him for help, simply practicing on his own.

In the spring of the fourth year, Lu Xingzhou left the fishing village.

Before leaving, he came to the dilapidated temple to say goodbye.

"Sir, I want to go outside the mountains and take a look."

"To see if there are really Immortals in this world."

"If there aren't, I will walk up the mountain myself to see."

Qin Yun looked at him and only nodded.

The young man turned and walked into the thin morning mist.

A year later, Qin Yun heard Lu Xingzhou's name in a tavern in a small town.

The storyteller said that there was a Loose Cultivator named Lu Xingzhou who had picked up half a scroll of a damaged Cultivation Technique in the mountains and completed it himself.

Two months later, he heard that Lu Xingzhou had killed the villains who were plundering the villagers.

The first time he killed someone, he vomited for a long time, his hands shaking so much he couldn't even hold his blade steady.

But the next day, he still carried the stolen grain, bag by bag, back to the village.

Later on, Lu Xingzhou rescued a merchant caravan surrounded by Yao Beasts.

The owner of the caravan was moved to tears and offered a heavy reward.

He only took enough money to buy a pair of new shoes and a few meals, then turned and left.

Lu Xingzhou's reputation began to spread in the nearby small towns.

Once, he went to challenge a notorious Demonic cultivator, was defeated miserably, had three ribs broken, and was thrown into a river.

He crawled ashore from the river and did not flee far.

He spent half a year healing his injuries in a nearby cave.

Half a year later, he raised his sword and went to the doorstep again.

In that battle, he won, though it was a narrow victory, and he almost died himself.

Another ten years passed.

In a conflict involving several Sects, he protected a city with his own strength.

From then on, the name Lu Xingzhou spread completely throughout the surrounding regions.

Some said he was a madman who meddled in everything.

Some said he was a fool who wouldn't even value his life for the sake of unrelated people.

Others said he was a rare good person in this area.

Qin Yun listened to these rumors and just drank his tea quietly.

He felt that the spark seemed to be truly catching fire.

Lu Xingzhou was injured again on a rainy night.

He was pursued by enemies, severely wounded, and hid in a medicinal hut.

The one who saved him was a female physician named Song Wanying.

When she treated his wounds, she did not ask why he was injured, nor did she ask whom he had killed.

She simply scolded him while bandaging him.

"Do you not want your life?"

"To save others, one must first stay alive, otherwise you are just causing trouble for others."

Lu Xingzhou refused to admit defeat verbally, saying that a real man walking in the world should not fear life or death.

Song Wanying pressed the medicinal powder directly onto his wound, making him grimace in pain.

"Then let it hurt you to death."

Later, after Lu Xingzhou's wounds healed, he did not leave immediately.

He stayed behind, helping the medicinal hut chop wood, carry water, and dry herbs.

His hands, accustomed to gripping a sword, learned for the first time how to distinguish medicinal herbs.

Song Wanying became the only person in this chaotic world with whom he could put down his sword.

But good times did not last.

A disaster without warning swept through the small town.

It was a fallen Demonic Path Sect that wanted to blood-sacrifice all the living beings in the city to refine a Demonic Weapon.

Lu Xingzhou raised his sword to block them.

He told Song Wanying to leave first and wait for him in a safe place.

In that battle, he killed for a long time.

He fought from the east of the city to the west, his sword blade curling.

He ultimately beheaded the Demonic Path Sect Master, protecting the people of the entire city.

But when he dragged his wounded body back to the medicinal hut.

The medicinal hut had already collapsed by half.

Song Wanying lay in a pool of blood, a bloody hole in her chest, her breathing weak.

It was the people from the Demonic Path Sect who had intercepted her on the road as she fled.

Lu Xingzhou plunged his sword into the mud, knelt by her side, and tried desperately to save her.

He fed her all the Medicinal Pills he had on him.

He exhausted the last trace of spiritual power in his body.

He even cut his own wrist, passing his blood into her mouth.

But it was all useless.

Song Wanying lay in his arms, her breathing growing weaker and weaker.

She raised her hand to touch his face, but it only lifted halfway before it fell.

"Stop trying to save me..."

Her voice was very light, like the wind.

"You still have a path to walk."

"The road ahead of you is still very long."

"Don't trap... yourself here."

Lu Xingzhou did not cry, nor did he shout.

He just held her, repeatedly pushing his long-depleted spiritual power.

His hand still pressed on the wound on her chest, futilely trying to stop the bleeding.

Until the person in his arms had completely stopped breathing.

He looked at his own hands stained with blood.

These hands could kill, could blaze a path, could make countless people feel awe.

But they could not save the person he most wanted to save.

He began to doubt what meaning his sword truly held.

After Song Wanying died, Lu Xingzhou did not immediately go for revenge.

He suddenly felt very tired.

He walked all the way back to that small fishing village.

The entrance to the village had changed; there were a few new houses and also a few new graves.

Some people recognized him but dared not approach, only pointing and whispering from afar.

He was like a wandering spirit, walking along the familiar road.

He remembered when he was young, he drew his sword to seek revenge.

The revenge was taken, but new grievances came again.

He killed the villains, and the villains' kin came to find him.

He saved a city of people, yet caused the person beside him to die on the road.

He thought there was only one road, straight ahead.

But as he walked, there were more and more roads, and each one could not be distinguished as right or wrong.

Each one was stained with blood.

He did not know why he still drew his sword.

He began to doubt whether people should not presume to become Immortals.

Whether the strong should simply not meddle too much.

At dusk, he walked to the front of that dilapidated temple.

The temple was still there, even more dilapidated than before.

The old teacher was still there, sitting in the temple, teaching another batch of children to read.

The character on the wooden board was still that same "Immortal" character.

Lu Xingzhou walked in.

He was covered in the dust of the journey, his sword hanging at his waist, yet it looked as if it hadn't been drawn for a long time.

He was taller and more composed than he had been back then.

But the fire in his eyes was gone, leaving only exhaustion.

Qin Yun saw him and was not the least bit surprised.

He put down the book in his hand and, just like back then, asked calmly.

"Are we debating today?"

Lu Xingzhou stood at the temple entrance, the setting sun falling behind him, casting a long shadow.

He was silent for a long time, then shook his head.

"I don't know how to debate anymore."

He walked up to Qin Yun, his voice hoarse.

"When I was young, I said that Immortals should descend the mountain."

"But I descended the mountain."

"I have saved people, and I have killed people."

"I took my revenge, and added new grievances."

"I thought the sword could blaze a path, but the further I walked, the more paths appeared."

He raised his head, looking at the old teacher before him who seemed as if he would never age, and asked the question that had plagued him for half his life.

"Sir, tell me, was I wrong?"

"If an Immortal descends the mountain and cannot even save the person they want to save, then why should an Immortal descend the mountain at all?"

The temple was very quiet.

The children did not understand what was happening, only watching quietly.

Qin Yun looked at Lu Xingzhou before him, who had grown from a youth to a young man, his eyes full of bloodshot fatigue and confusion, but he did not answer immediately.