My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 259 – A Thorough Sweep; Wood Demon Subjugation - Part 1

After some time, Li Yuan was welcomed into the Jing Clan’s inner estate and given the same elegant courtyard he had toured a few days earlier during the wedding festivities. Cui Huayin and Yao Jue moved in with him as well, a simple act that marked the beginning of renewed harmony between the Jing and Gu Clan.

The courtyard itself was all wood, releasing a faint, cool fragrance. It stayed warm in winter, cool in summer, and remained free of insects. Though smaller than most, Li Yuan didn’t mind; his own home wasn’t large, so what use was a sprawling courtyard to him?

Still, he had to keep up appearances. So he sat alone on the stone steps by the entrance, staring at a sea of off-white flowers in the distance. He looked utterly lost, as though dazed by grief.

From beyond the courtyard walls, he sensed people secretly watching him—men and women both. As he was now in the heart of the Jing Clan estate, whose patriarch was the deputy temple master of the Holy Tree Temple, of course their people would observe him closely.

Inside, Yao Jue peered through a narrow gap in the oiled-paper window. She wanted to go out to him, but remembered Cui Huayin’s words. He needs some time alone.

Yao Jue thought that was right. Sometimes, letting the pain flare up and burn through was better than suppressing it. Yet she couldn’t help recalling Sheng'er—the sweet girl she had grown so close to.

She pictured the two of them strolling hand in hand beneath the sun, setting up an easel by the trees or behind rocks, painting in a lovely corner of the estate. Tears filled her eyes at the memory. Overcome, she closed the window and sobbed.

Hearing Yao Jue cry, Li Yuan scratched his head. He never imagined Yao Jue and Sheng'er would become so attached in such a short time.

The off-white blossoms in front of him were called fragrant snowballs. Under the night breeze, they looked like rolling waves of white, gently rising and falling. Their delicate scent mingled with a subtle meaty aroma that stirred one’s vital energy, flowing naturally into Li Yuan’s body and strengthening it.

Even without active cultivation, he absorbed the ambient power, gradually growing stronger.

Before long, hurried footsteps approached.

Jing Banfeng, carrying two pots of wine, sat down on the stone steps beside Li Yuan. As someone of high status, he was just as willing to seat himself on a simple doorstep as on a gilded throne; that was part of a leader’s fundamental composure.

“Hundred Blossoms Brew,” he said, handing one jug to Li Yuan. “A specialty of our Holy Tree Temple.” Then he cracked open his own and drank in large gulps, gazing up at the bright moon.

After a moment, he spoke. “Liu Luzi will lure out the undying husks. While they’re exposed, we’ll wipe out every last one hiding in the Holy Tree Temple’s city stronghold and rescue Sheng'er in the process. They must have taken her to use against you, so I’m certain they won’t harm her.”

“Thank you,” Li Yuan replied. He took two long swigs, and a wave of dizziness washed over him, like an ordinary person downing strong liquor shot after shot.

Jing Banfeng chuckled. “Easy there. This stuff is strong enough to knock out fifth or sixth rank cultivators. Even a seventh rank martial artist would keel over after one mouthful.”

Li Yuan steadied himself. “It’s good,” he said. “A fine brew.”

Jing Banfeng nodded. “Indeed.”

Li Yuan’s voice turned serious. “So, when do we start the plan to rescue my daughter?”

“We need time to plan,” Jing Banfeng said. “Soon, within the next two days. Don’t worry, I’ll go myself.”

“I’m going too.”

“It’ll be chaotic. You should stay here and wait for good news.”

“No,” Li Yuan insisted. “I have to go. I’m her father.”

“Father...” Jing Banfeng fell silent for a moment, looking almost amused before finally saying, “Well then, we’re both fathers. Let’s have another drink.”

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Later that evening.

“If Li Yuan wants to join, let him. Nothing will happen to him here in the Holy Tree Temple’s city stronghold,” Qing Hangcheng said calmly.

“All other preparations are in place.” Jing Baikou gave a respectful bow.

Beside him stood a black-robed woman with dark embroidery, projecting a sinister aura. This was Liu Luzi, who hurried forward in obvious fear.

“Temple master,” she said, “I swear I will redeem myself this time. I won’t disappoint you.”

“So,” Qing Hangcheng asked, “none of the undying husks you’ve managed to contact admit to taking Li Yuan’s daughter?”

Liu Luzi trembled. “They’re all given separate tasks. Only the one overseeing everything would know the full story, and you already killed him.”

“Then is Li Yuan’s daughter alive or dead?” Qing Hancheng asked evenly, hands folded behind his back.

“She must still be alive!” Liu Luzi blurted, her voice betraying her desperation; she dreaded making another mistake.

Jing Baikou shot the flustered woman a helpless glance. It was obvious Liu Luzi was on the verge of cracking.

Stepping forward, Jing Baikou offered his own view. “Temple Master, I believe she’s dead. The Black Lotus Cult commits every evil imaginable, and these undying husks are hardly human at all. Why would they bother keeping a normal girl, one who isn’t even ninth rank, alive?”

“Whether it’s poison or Yin energy, even the slightest contact would spell the end for Li Yuan’s daughter,” Jing Baikou observed.

“No, she’s alive; she has to be!” Liu Luzi blurted desperately. Bowing low, she implored, “Temple Master, please give me one more chance. I’ll go and investigate—”

Qing Hancheng cut her off with a gentle command. “You’ve been at it all day, Liu Luzi. Go get some rest.”

“I...I’m not tired. I—” But fear had stripped Liu Luzi of composure. A century of cultivation was at risk; she couldn’t afford to make another mistake.

“Are you defying the temple master’s orders?” Jing Baikou growled, shooting her a hard look.

Liu Luzi trembled, finally bowing and withdrawing. Once she left, the oppressive aura blanketing her vanished, and she felt her scattered wits slowly gather again. Narrow eyes now sharp with thought, she drifted away in silence.

The great hall went quiet. Qing Hancheng said nothing more about Sheng'er, turning instead to another matter, “How is Master Gong faring these days?”

“He and Zhu Ban have been stirring each other’s tempers while studying advanced formations for forging spirit artifacts,” Jing Baikou replied. “Last time I saw Master Gong, he looked on the verge of madness.”

Qing Hancheng nodded. “Tomorrow, send over that bed made of dreamvine wood so he can rest properly.” Then, as though suddenly remembering, he added, “About Li Yuan’s child, make sure to find her alive, if you can.”

“Yes, sir,” Jing Baikou answered promptly.

But Qing Hancheng seemed to sense the question on Jing Baikou’s mind. “It’s not what you think,” he said evenly.

Jing Baikou hesitated. “I’m not sure I follow...”

Qing Hancheng’s tone grew serious. “Yes, we want Li Yuan to harbor an unquenchable hatred toward the Black Lotus Cult and the undying husks, so in truth we’d prefer that girl to be dead. Only if Sheng'er truly dies will he have no other path forward.

“But in all our endeavors, we must keep our principles. We do what must be done...and refrain where we must. So if his daughter is still alive, we’ll bring her back safely, even if it lets a few undying husks slip away.”

“...” Jing Baikou was stunned. A moment earlier, the temple master had clearly meant something else. Which version of him was genuine? Which was false? freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

An eerie chill spread through Jing Baikou. He recalled how Qing Hancheng had initially ordered the sabotage of Zhu Ban, but then did a complete reversal on his stance later on. Yes, Jing Yunhe was in the wrong. But to be beheaded by his own father, and then have his decapitated head sealed in a box and paraded around—there was a cruelty there that defied comprehension.

And yet Qing Hancheng always seemed utterly sincere, too sincere to be lying. The man stood in a shaft of moonlight, regal yet serene, sleeves drifting like an otherworldly immortal.

As the moonbeams shone through the tower’s tinted skylight, half his face glowed with gentle radiance, while the other half, caught in a trick of the light, seemed warped and feverish.

Jing Baikou lowered his gaze, a flicker of dread crossing his eyes. Then he quickly composed himself and bowed. “Yes, understood.”

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