Chapter 68: The Broken Interval

No matter how she looked at it, Hansu couldn’t believe Lu Tanxian was a simple woman. To her, Huaiyin was just someone with a slightly higher cultivation, but still a demon cultivator—practically useless for any real benefit. How could she possibly like him? Moreover, in the original novel, Lu Tanxian was truly smitten at first sight with the Celestial Lord Yuheng. Though she hesitated at times for reasons of interest, she wouldn’t have switched allegiances so quickly. So Hansu didn’t tell her anything; instead, she asked warily, “Why are you looking for him?”

Lu Tanxian found her reaction amusing. What a naïve young girl, unscarred by the hardships of the world—her thoughts were laid bare at a glance. “Why? With his high cultivation, are you afraid I’ll eat him, Aunt Master? Don’t worry. It’s just that my brother thinks he resembles an old acquaintance, so we wanted to ask. If you know where he is, I’d love to hear about him—perhaps my brother can confirm whether he really is his friend…”

Hansu eyed her skeptically. According to Huaiyin, he’d been thrown into a secret realm right after birth thousands of years ago and had been confined there since. Even if he had seen outsiders, it would have been before the realm closed, which meant any acquaintances would have been disciples from thousands of years past. How could he know a Confucian cultivator who’d never entered the secret realm? Though she didn’t know what they were after, Hansu didn’t hesitate to speculate the worst. Of course, she absolutely couldn’t reveal anything about Huaiyin!

She replied firmly, “We only met by chance. I don’t know anything! He left soon after—I have no idea where he went!” She nodded emphatically as she spoke, as if to make her words more convincing.

Lu Tanxian didn’t get the answers she wanted, but meeting such an interesting “Aunt Master” was a gain in itself. She didn’t press further; after all, the person in question had been gone for years, and it was rather late to start asking now. Hansu’s reaction was almost endearing, but it also seemed as if there was someone else in her mind—someone whose presence Lu Tanxian found revolting, a constant voice in her head sneering, “How disgusting, a fifty-odd-year-old Golden Core cultivator, living off ancestral glory and still so naïve. Just waiting to be devoured, not a bone left behind! Parasites, all of them!” Sometimes, when she calmed down, Lu Tanxian wondered if she might be suffering from some split malady. But in this world, there was no such concept. She dared not ask anyone, could only restrain herself. This sudden episode in front of others left her flustered, and she hurriedly suppressed the intrusive thoughts that seemed both hers and not hers, fleeing in a panic.

“That’s strange. I didn’t say anything odd, did I? Why did she react like that?” Hansu stared after Lu Tanxian’s hasty retreat, puzzled. She scratched her head, then put it aside and turned toward the Hall of Records.

The Hall of Records had nine floors, each guarded. The lower eight floors were open to the sect, while the top floor was reserved for those who had made great contributions. Hansu’s token, belonging to a Nascent Soul Lord and a peak’s head, allowed her access to any area within the first eight floors. Having been there before, she found the historical records with ease.

She read for hours, combing through every book within sight, but found not a single volume recording events before the founding of Yaohua. The sect was only twenty thousand years old—what about before? What sects had existed then, what stories had unfolded?

Strangely, it was as if everything from more than twenty thousand years ago had been erased; not a trace could be found in any historical record. Hansu wracked her brain, recalling the novel’s plot, but realized the story always revolved around Lu Tanxian and Su Yunmo. She herself was barely mentioned, let alone anyone else. When she transmigrated, the novel was still ongoing, so she didn’t know what happened after Lu Tanxian got involved with Yu Yicong. The parts she’d read contained no mention of events two millennia past. Who could she ask?

“Hmm? Maybe… I should ask him!” Suddenly struck by inspiration, Hansu put down her book and dashed out.

Among the peaks, Spirit Sword Peak towered highest, its very name evoking a sword thrust skyward. Hansu found him atop Sword Dance Cliff. He was practicing swordplay. Though only at the eleventh layer of Foundation Establishment, his sword intent surpassed what most Golden Core cultivators could dream of. His sword style was unpredictable and razor-sharp.

Sword Dance Cliff was always open to Spirit Sword Peak disciples, but its unique conditions—perched at the summit, battered by bone-chilling gales—meant few could endure the winds below Golden Core. Only a handful ever trained here, and those of higher cultivation rarely visited, already having comprehended the sword or holding too lofty a status.

So at that moment, he was alone. Hansu flew up on her sword; though she preferred the comfort of her little White Cloud artifact, these days she had to consider appearances. As a Golden Core cultivator, she couldn’t be seen acting too cute—so, within the sect, she mostly flew by sword.

Bai Ke’s fighting spirit was fierce—his sword thrust the instant Hansu set foot on the summit. With a hiss, a bolt of lightning flashed, his spirit sword piercing the wind and shattering the shield Hansu hastily formed, nearly ripping through her robe. Hansu kept her composure, conjuring a wall of ice to block the attack, then summoned her own artifact blade, Suwei. A flash of cold steel, and Bai Ke was nearly wounded, forced to recall his sword and defend.

Bai Ke’s sword excelled in trickery, but Hansu’s cultivation surpassed his, and her artifact was simply too powerful. After a few exchanges, his sword had already cracked. Hansu hurriedly withdrew her main weapon and switched to the sword she usually used for flying. Her swordsmanship wasn’t fancy; she’d only taken a few classes from Bai Ke as a child, and most of her skill came from fighting monsters in the He Stream Secret Realm—direct, practical moves with no flourish.

Bai Ke’s style was the opposite: elusive, deceptive, changing constantly. Their duel was all the more intense for their differences. Hansu had few moves, so few as to be barely moves at all. Bai Ke had countless, each unique. Hansu could hardly tell when his sword would strike or which attacks were real or feints. All she could do was meet force with force; with her higher cultivation, she managed well enough, but an onlooker could bear it no longer.

“That move’s a feint. Close the distance—don’t let him keep away, and his style will be hard to execute. Then you can keep things simple, focus on his three main acupoints. However he darts about, you’ll remain unshaken.”

The sudden voice nearly made her miss a breath—it was Rong Ling! Though she knew that, after awakening, Rong Ling could freely control the Immortal Palace and observe her at will, she still felt embarrassed when it happened. It was just a sword match, after all; if he wanted to watch, fine, but if he started giving advice while she was…

Though she grumbled in her heart, cursing Rong Ling from head to toe, she still obediently followed his instructions. And they worked—soon, she had Bai Ke cornered, his moves unraveling, and he admitted defeat.

“Honestly, Granny Jiang, you’re already at Golden Core and you still let me score so many points on you… Are you sure it’s not a fake core?” Bai Ke flopped onto the ground, leaving his sword lying beside him, and patted the spot next to him, inviting Hansu to sit.

Hansu ignored his teasing and laughed. “That’s just because you’re so strong, Lord Bai!” They both burst out laughing. The childhood nicknames seemed to erase the years apart, bridging the distance time and space had imposed, and made them close once more.

Bai Ke tilted his head to study her. Time had not only made her his Aunt Master, but turned the once-chubby little girl into a poised young lady, her brows calm, innocence shining through after all the dust had settled. Her waist was slender as a willow, her features refined and lively, her teeth white, lips red, eyes clear and cheeks dimpled with laughter—a blossoming beauty. He reached out his hand, palm up, looking into Hansu’s eyes and smiling.

Hansu stared, then seemed to remember something, and began to laugh as well. As she laughed, she drew a bottle of wine and two cups from her pouch. “It’s been a while since we caught up. Let’s have a drink first.”

Savoring the fragrant wine, Bai Ke finally asked, “So, what brings you to me?” Hansu shot him a glare. “Now, that’s a distant way to put it. It’s not like I don’t want to see you—I just haven’t had any free time. But actually, I did come for a reason. You’ve read a lot—have you ever found a book that records events from twenty thousand years ago?”

“Twenty thousand years ago?” Bai Ke’s smile froze. “Why ask now?”

“Is it late to ask? I just suddenly realized—when we talk about the ‘Ancient Era,’ what does that actually mean? And the ‘Middle Era’?”

“I thought about that as a child. The Ancient Era is anything from a hundred thousand years ago and earlier. The Middle Era ends precisely twenty thousand years ago.”

“You mean—?”

“That’s why the sect’s histories never mention anything before twenty thousand years ago—it’s the division point. I’ve searched every record I could find, but there are no details. All I’ve learned is that something major happened thirty thousand years ago, which led to chaos not just in this realm, but in all five realms. Wars broke out among human cultivators, between humans and demons, and even ghost and devil cultivators joined the fray. The turmoil lasted ten thousand years, until twenty thousand years ago, when a few great beings finally stabilized things. Many sects disappeared; many arts and techniques were lost. The whole world of cultivation was left in ruins, barely hanging on thanks to some ancient clans and reclusive elders. Only then did figures like Ancestor Ningyuan and a few other prodigies establish the major sects, allowing the cultivation world to survive.

“That period was so bloody and brutal that history was only recorded starting from the new sects’ founding. The darkness of those times would drive people mad. That’s all you’ll find. I only learned this from a strange old book I picked up at a stall as a child. I nearly fell to inner demons reading it—luckily, my Master was there to save me, or you’d have no one to ask now.”

Bai Ke’s expression was heavy, a hint of wisdom in his young face. “So, what exactly happened thirty thousand years ago?” Hansu, drawn into the darkness of his tale, asked anxiously.

“No one knows. The books don’t say. Maybe no one ever will. There are so many mysteries in the world—why do you fixate on this one?”

Hansu didn’t answer, feeling as though she’d failed Rong Ling by not completing her task. Instead of returning to her cave, she first went to see her father and ask him.

This was Lanhe Lord’s reply: “What? Are you asking on behalf of that fox? No one knows. Supposedly, something important happened, which led to the wars. Susu, there are plenty of good cultivators you could form a dual cultivation partnership with. I don’t think that fox is reliable. What do you think of Lu Ming?”

Right on cue, Lu Ming’s increasingly plump face peeked shyly from behind the curtain, beaming foolishly, making Lanhe Lord’s face darken. “Ever since Lu Ming started practicing the ‘Ten Thousand Woods Rebirth Method,’ he’s turned into a blockhead. We’re not picking him. I heard you visited Bai Ke—what do you think of him? Though I hear he’s been spending time with Tu Qiqi… No, I need to consult your mother about this!”

Hansu was both exasperated and amused as she watched her father vanish from sight. She pressed a hand to her forehead, and a suppressed chuckle echoed in her mind—the Immortal Lord himself. In her heart, a thousand gigantic, fat mountain boars thundered past. “Are you quite recovered? So idle now… And could you please leave me a little—?”

Author’s Note: Is a horde of a thousand gigantic, fat mountain boars not even more dramatic? I imagined it and nearly lost control. Of course, that’s a species I invented myself…