Chapter 136: A Different Path Through Mountains and Rivers

He Feng’s arm, grotesque and somewhat repulsive in appearance, hung there silently—more persuasive than a thousand gentle words coaxing Cheng Qingqing.

Immediately, Cheng Qingqing’s attention fixed on He Feng, her face clouded with suspicion as she repeatedly asked, “It must hurt terribly, right? How can you act as if nothing’s wrong? This can’t be fake, can it?”

Not only Cheng Qingqing, but those nearby—including Helian Yong and Hong Jian—were genuinely taken aback.

Though they knew little of He Feng’s background, there was no doubt of his stature among them—far beyond what a sorceress like Cheng Qingqing could rival.

It was at his suggestion that they had come to the Crimson Gold Volcano, and Helian Yong, unaware of He Feng’s true identity, had even treated him as a key partner.

Moreover, He Feng was capable of healing. How severe could his condition be that even he could not cure it himself?

Cheng Qingqing was right; such a state must be accompanied by unbearable pain. Whether one cultivated the Dao or the demonic path, even at the divine transformation stage, one could not escape the shackles of flesh and bone.

He Feng’s condition was so severe that even Hong Jian, who had barely touched him, showed a pained surprise, while He Feng himself appeared indifferent. “Of course not.”

“Is it only this arm that’s like this? You’re better off than me. If you don’t bring it up, no one would notice,” Cheng Qingqing’s tone shifted drastically from before.

He Feng stood and looked down at her. “If you want to learn this secret technique, I might consider teaching you.”

At his words, Cheng Qingqing couldn’t help but scramble to her feet, eyes sparkling. “What are your conditions? Do I have to become your disciple?”

He Feng replied, “No need for that.” Turning away, he walked toward the crowd’s edge. Without caring about her disheveled state, Cheng Qingqing quickly followed, trailing behind him. As they walked farther, He Feng said, “You must understand, the purpose of learning this technique is so others won’t see you as an outcast, making it easier to act. It has nothing to do with beauty or ugliness…”

Those watching the pair’s backs were at a loss for words.

After a moment, Helian Yong spoke, “They’ll leave after we settle in the mountains tomorrow. Everyone else, let’s continue. The name ‘Crimson Gold’ doesn’t suit us. Although most of us have golden spiritual roots and our sect is built on the Crimson Gold Volcano, our strength is still weak. Using such a grand name will only make us afraid to reveal it once we leave the mountain. There’s no need to complicate things. The sect’s name should be loud and simple. How about ‘Cloudbane Sect’?”

The night passed swiftly. The next morning, before dawn, everyone set off early.

After the events of the previous night, everyone looked at He Feng with strange eyes. Only Cheng Qingqing seemed unaffected, as if struck by amnesia. No matter how Jing Xiaoyun hinted or bluntly provoked her, she held her head high, ignoring it all—as if the one who had made a scene last night was not her—and followed closely behind He Feng with an indescribable eagerness.

Because of He Feng’s information, Helian Yong had no choice but to lead everyone directly into the Blazing Flame Valley of the Crimson Gold Volcano.

The Blazing Flame Valley was perilous, shrouded in thick smoke year-round. The long canyon formed a ring, with a conical volcano at its center. Within the valley, over a dozen volcanic vents burned continuously, spewing molten red lava. Flora and fauna were nearly extinct.

Setting camp and living long-term in such a place would be a severe test for Helian Yong and the others. But as cultivators freshly freed, comparing this place to the Demonic Prison naturally led them to conclude: the Blazing Flame Valley was better. Their faces all bore bright smiles.

In a short time, Helian Yong had assigned tasks. Everyone was to explore the terrain within the valley and nearby volcanoes, while keeping an eye out for any cultivators training nearby.

Helian Yong followed He Feng around the valley, puzzled. If this demonic cultivator had always been training in the Demon Sect, how was he so familiar with this remote valley in the Daoist continent? It seemed clear he had been here before.

Could it be that he had once set his sights on the divine transformation cave residence hidden here?

Although Helian Yong could not understand how He Feng knew such detailed information about the cave residence, he meticulously recorded every instruction.

He estimated this would be an enormous and arduous undertaking. The newly established sect lacked people, crafting materials, pills, and even faced the danger of sudden volcanic eruptions. After settling in, breaking the formation to open the cave and setting aside time for cultivation would be limited. The sect leader’s head ached just thinking about it.

But if there truly was a divine transformation cave residence here, no hardship would be in vain.

Putting aside all difficulties for tomorrow, once He Feng finished giving instructions, Helian Yong said, “We’ve traveled together for so many days without a chance to properly talk. If there’s no rush, let’s stay one more night before leaving.”

The founding ceremony of the newly established Cloudbane Sect would be held at dusk. Though simple due to limited conditions, it held great significance—it marked the end of decades, even centuries, of imprisonment, a true rebirth like a phoenix rising from ashes.

“Are they leaving tomorrow as well?” He Feng asked.

Helian Yong, knowing He Feng referred to Hong Jian and Lu Yanchang, didn’t understand why he cared so much for the two. “For now, yes. They’ve left almost all their spiritual stones and valuable materials behind. The Jing family father and daughter will stay; I’ll find a way to keep Jing Xiaoyun from causing trouble.”

He Feng nodded, acknowledging. Hong Jian, Lu Yanchang, and Helian Yong were bound by life-and-death friendship, and their departure was less urgent. It was clear they’d wait to bid farewell after tonight’s celebration.

He no longer mentioned leaving, saying instead, “This place is harsh, but there’s no better option right now. For a long time, I won’t be able to leave, let alone help. Helian, you will have to bear the burden.”

Helian Yong laughed, “That’s nothing. But you’re like a dragon seen only in glimpses. Next time we meet, I might not recognize you and cause a big misunderstanding.”

He Feng didn’t respond, only saying, “The time will come.”

Due to conditions and Helian Yong’s dislike of formalities, the Cloudbane Sect’s opening ceremony was exceedingly modest.

As the name implies, the Cloudbane Sect was founded to eliminate Ji Youyun.

Helian Yong made no attempt to hide this, openly declaring at the ceremony, “Our sect is different from others. We have no sect legacy, no master-disciple hierarchy. We were all lone cultivators, weary of rules and restrictions. Why form a sect? To use sect regulations to enforce order, reduce risks against Ji Youyun, and let fewer people die, less blood be spilled. We share the same past and the same goal. We traveled thousands of miles to the Crimson Gold Volcano. Since you trust me, I will act justly and one day lead everyone to avenge the blood feud of decades locked away in the Demonic Prison.”

After his heartfelt speech, some Daoist cultivators let out howls to the sky, others shouted, “Kill Ji Youyun! Revenge! Revenge!” The voices swelled into a torrent, and a volcano vent at the valley’s bottom burst into fierce flames, creating a stirring scene.

Hong Jian, watching, felt tears well in her eyes. This was the cycle of heaven and earth—Ji Youyun’s countless misdeeds, even against his own brother, would one day be repaid in full.

The ceremony quickly ended. Though the new Cloudbane Sect was pitifully small, it had four Nascent Soul cultivators and over a dozen Golden Core, excluding three others. The rest were cultivators with strong golden spiritual roots, skilled and battle-hardened. Though not as powerful as centuries-old sects, they rivaled medium-strength sects.

The night feast lacked spiritual wine and delicacies, yet spirits were high. Led by Helian Yong, everyone sat by a flowing fire spring, chatting and laughing.

One shared anecdotes from their days as lone cultivators, another leapt up to demonstrate a technique. Laughter echoed, firelight coloring their weathered faces red.

Hong Jian smiled quietly among them, understanding why everyone was so joyful.

Her true situation no longer needed concealment. Helian Yong explained it to the group; upon hearing she and Lu Yanchang had also escaped the Demonic Prison, the Daoists immediately accepted her as one of their own, speaking with warmth and closeness.

Unknowingly, the moon rose to its zenith. The heavy smoke above the valley blurred its light, casting a dim, hazy glow that made the joyous gathering feel dreamlike to Hong Jian.

Suddenly, a hoarse whistle pierced the night—a bearded man’s sharp call soared into the clouds, igniting cheers. The whistle then softened into a melody, joyful and lively, like fish swimming or birds flying. Everyone found it delightful and applauded before falling silent.

Hong Jian listened, but her smile slowly froze.

The tune was “Song of the Cave Immortal,” a piece evoking carefree joy among immortals. But Hong Jian was no stranger to it; in the dark confines of the Black Turtle Prison, nearly twenty years, she had heard Ji Youfeng play it countless times.

Seizing a moment unnoticed, Hong Jian rose quietly and slipped away from the fire spring.

At that moment, neither Helian Yong nor Lu Yanchang—who often kept an eye on Hong Jian—noticed her absence, caught up in conversation and laughter.

Only He Feng, seated apart due to his demonic identity, saw a slender figure disappear into the darkness.

He Feng paused, then quietly rose and stepped back a few paces.

Cheng Qingqing immediately noticed his move and bent as if to follow, but He Feng gestured for her to stay. Pouting, she remained, and he silently followed Hong Jian.

Hong Jian turned a corner and vanished from sight. Anyone noticing her disappearance from the fire spring would find it difficult to locate her.

He Feng caught up and saw her standing on a large stone, looking up at the moon.

The “Song of the Cave Immortal” still drifted clearly on the night breeze. The Daoist’s whistle was finely delicate and emotional—a rare skill. He Feng silently admired it, pondering why she stood so still, gazing at the sky.

Just then, Hong Jian moved. Stretching out her arms, she mimicked a bird flying, twirling lightly on the stone to the tune’s rhythm, gradually speeding up.

Her dance was light and happy, yet He Feng felt a heavy sorrow radiating from her under the moonlight.

He soon realized this was no illusion. After a while, she stopped, turned her back, bowed her head, and clasped her hands before her, shoulders trembling slightly. From that silhouette, familiar to him, he knew she was silently weeping amid such a joyful melody.

He Feng’s heart shook violently, a profound helplessness washing over him. Leaning against the rocky wall, he breathed out a sigh of pent-up frustration.

A noise came from nearby. He opened his eyes to see Lu Yanchang approaching, a look of surprise on his face.

Confused, Lu asked, “What are you doing here?”

He Feng fixed his gaze sharply on Lu Yanchang, his stern eyes startling him.

Before Lu could speak further, He Feng cast a sealing formation with a wave, preventing him from disturbing Hong Jian.

Then He Feng turned to look at Hong Jian’s figure under the pale moonlight. Lu Yanchang followed his gaze and exclaimed, “Miss Fang, what’s wrong with her?”

He Feng replied coldly, “What’s wrong? You’ve been with her all day and don’t know? Your energy’s spent entertaining Jing Xiaoyun’s antics. You leave tomorrow—that’s your last chance. If you can’t make her happy, you’d better step aside early and stop being a burden.”

Lu Yanchang’s anger turned to bitter laughter. “Who do you think you are, giving me chances? Dream on. You think Miss Fang would like a demonic cultivator like you who hides behind secret techniques?”

He knew his words struck a nerve and was ready for a fight.

But He Feng remained calm, his tone indifferent, “Of course not me. She deserves better.”

“Better” meant He Feng considered himself good, Lu Yanchang inferior, and somewhere else, someone even better.

Talking to such a man left Lu Yanchang full of resentment—whether at He Feng, Jing Xiaoyun, or himself, he didn’t know.

The night ended in discord. He Feng never spoke to Lu Yanchang again, nor bid farewell to Hong Jian.

When the valley’s laughter finally died down, he led Cheng Tian and Cheng Qingqing one way, while Hong Jian and Lu Yanchang went another, bidding farewell to Helian Yong before departing.

From then on, separated by vast distances, none knew when they might meet again.

P.S.: No holidays before the first day of the lunar new year, and who knows how busy the festivities will be. Thanks to Dà Lèzhào’s He Shi Bi, here’s a 4,000-character chapter today. No updates before the new year, but I’ll try to work harder afterward. Many thanks.