455: Chapter 455 Returning to the Origin

The aftermath of the peace talks followed as a matter of course.

Before the insurmountable mountain that was the Cloud Hidden Sect, and under the cruel blow of the truth behind the national war, the Northern Mang delegation lost all their bargaining chips.

Both sides quickly reached an agreement on all terms and began signing the formal National Credentials and peace treaty.

With brush and ink prepared, two identical copies of the National Credentials were placed on the low table.

Representing Daxing, Xu Qing picked up the brush and pressed the seal.

With trembling hands, the Prime Minister of Bei Mang also signed his name on the documents and stamped them with the National Seal representing Northern Mang's royal authority.

Finally, it was the turn of the Cloud Hidden Sect, acting as the "witnessing party."

Su Ming stood up from his side seat.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, he walked slowly toward the table.

He did not look at the envoys, nor did he look at Xu Qing. He simply took out a signet from his sleeve, carved entirely from purple jade and etched with intricate cloud patterns.

That was the identity signet of a True Disciple of the Cloud Hidden Sect's Formation Peak.

He picked up the signet, dipped it in vermilion ink, and pressed it lightly onto the witness signature line of both documents.

A clear mark, containing a faint fluctuation of spiritual power, was left on the paper.

Having finished all this, Su Ming put away the signet and, without saying a word, turned to walk back to his seat.

The peace treaty was signed.

This bloody war, which had lasted for four years, finally came to an end at this moment.

...

An hour later, in the main hall of the Court of State Ceremonial.

The officials had all dispersed, and the Northern Mang delegation had already returned to the Diplomatic Hostel under the "escort" of the Imperial Guard.

In the vast, empty hall, only a few people remained.

Xu Qing stood below the imperial throne, unmoving. His gaze crossed the empty hall and fell upon the figure in green robes who was just standing up from the side seat.

Su Ming also felt his gaze.

Su Ming turned around and gave an extremely slight nod in Xu Qing's direction.

A relieved, heartfelt smile finally appeared on Xu Qing's face. He also gave Su Ming a solemn nod.

No words were spoken.

A single look, a single gesture, already spoke louder than a thousand words.

They both knew that after this parting, they did not know when or in what year they would meet again. There might even be no chance of meeting ever again.

He was the pillar of the Daxing, destined to realize his ambitions of a peaceful and prosperous world within this mundane imperial court.

And he was a banished Immortal visiting the Dao from above the clouds, destined to pursue his ethereal path to longevity within that cruel world of cultivation.

The paths of Immortals and mortals are different; there must eventually be a parting.

Su Ming withdrew his gaze, turned, and followed behind Elder Qingquan, walking toward the outside of the hall.

When he passed in front of the throne, his steps paused slightly.

He turned sideways and bowed slightly toward the Son of Heaven of Great Xing, who still had not left the throne.

This bow could be considered a final acknowledgement of the distinction between ruler and subject, and also an end to his final mortal ties.

The Emperor looked at him, looking at this young man whom he had personally sent into a desperate situation five years ago, but who had now returned in a manner he could never have imagined.

The Emperor's lips moved, as if he wanted to say something.

Did he want to ask about his experiences over the past five years? Did he want to apologize for his helpless actions back then? Or did he want to win over this Immortal who shared a deep friendship with his most trusted minister?

But in the end, all the words remained stuck in his throat.

He knew that nothing he said would have any meaning anymore.

They were already people from two different worlds.

Ultimately, the Emperor only raised his hand and gave an extremely slight nod toward Su Ming's retreating back as well.

Su Ming straightened up and did not look back again.

The figures of him and Elder Qingquan, one after the other, walked out of the majestic gates of the Court of State Ceremonial and disappeared into the brilliant autumn sunlight outside the hall.

...

The sea of clouds churned, and the astral winds were like knives.

A seemingly thin Black-Roofed Wooden Boat cut through the waves ten thousand feet high in the sky. A very faint green halo lit up around the hull, blocking out all the Nine Heavens' astral winds that were enough to tear through refined steel, so that not even a slight breeze could blow into the boat.

Su Ming sat cross-legged at the stern, his gaze looking down.

Through the rolling layers of clouds, the mountains and rivers of the Mortal World had shrunk into an insignificant chessboard. The capital of Daxing Kingdom, the wilderness of Northern Mang, and the dirt road paved with gravel in Qingshi Town were all hidden beneath the thick sea of clouds, no longer visible in the slightest.

Severing mortal ties sounded easy, but when the moment truly came, the empty feeling in his heart felt more real than any backlash from a Spell.

But he did not look back, nor did he sigh. The Ruoshui Art within his body operated on its own, and the liquid spiritual power, as calm as an abyss, washed away the final trace of mortal turbidity within his Meridians.

"The wine of the Mortal World is always bitter at the very end."

Elder Qingquan sat at the bow, a red clay wine gourd having appeared in his hand at some unknown point. He tilted his head back and took a gulp, the spicy liquid dripping down his grey beard, but he wiped it away with his sleeve without a care.

Su Ming withdrew his gaze, his hands tucked into his sleeves, and lowered his head slightly.

"Only after the bitterness ends can the sweetness come. The mortal Karma has been settled, and my Dao Heart is now thirty percent more stable than before I descended the mountain."

Elder Qingquan turned his head, his eyes that had weathered many storms lingering on Su Ming for a moment before he let out a hearty chuckle.

"You brat, you certainly see things clearly. Better than I did back in my day." Elder Qingquan stood up, hung the wine gourd back on his waist, and pointed toward the massive mountain peak ahead that pierced the clouds like an inverted sharp sword. "We've arrived."

Cloud Hidden Sect, Formation Peak.

The wooden boat passed through the water-like transparent barrier of the Great Sect-Protecting Formation, and the concentration of Spiritual Qi instantly surged dozens of times over. The feeling was like a traveler parched for days in the desert suddenly plunging into cool spring water; every pore was greedily expanding.

The wooden boat slowly descended halfway up Formation Peak.

The two of them stepped off the boat. Elder Qingquan did not walk further; he patted Su Ming on the shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

"Go to the Star Pivot Hall to report. Your Revered Master is waiting for you there."

Su Ming gave a respectful bow and watched as Elder Qingquan's figure turned into a wisp of green smoke and vanished at the end of the mountain path. Only then did he tidy his grey robe and head toward the very top of Formation Peak along the stone steps paved with white jade and covered in intricate Array Patterns.

Star Pivot Hall was the absolute core of the Cloud Hidden Sect's Formation Peak.

This wasn't Su Ming's first time here, but every time he stepped into this hall, he could feel that terrifying pressure originating from the Origin of the Dao of Formations. The hall's ceiling was not made of bricks and tiles, but was a vast miniature starry sky, where three thousand six hundred Formation nodes flowed slowly like real stars, maintaining the spiritual power balance of the entire Formation Peak and even half of the Cloud Hidden Sect.

In the center of the hall, Immortal Master Master Xuan Heng stood with his back to the door, hands behind his back.

He wore a large, deep purple Formation robe, and his back was like an insurmountable high mountain. There was no incense in the hall, only a dry scent belonging to Star Iron and Lightning-Struck Wood.

"Disciple Su Ming pays respects to Revered Master."