Chapter 64: Reunion at Guyu Hollow
“Are you… Disciple Tingyan?”
The man in green robes stared at her as though seeing a ghost. He was Ji Wuduan, once Branch Master of Qinggu Heaven under Gengchen Immortal Mansion—a True Immortal known as Dongyang.
Eleven years ago, he had accepted a little girl named Liao Tingyan as his disciple. She had resembled his beloved daughter who died young, and grief had driven him to take her in, vowing to protect her. Never did he imagine that child would be swept into the heart of the greatest disaster his world had ever known.
Back then, Ji Wuduan was no more than a minor branch master. Qinggu Heaven was a quiet place, unremarkable compared to the grandeur of the inner court. When his young disciple was chosen to serve the Ancestral Master, he had been uneasy, but powerless. He asked questions when he could, but news from Three Saints Mountain was far beyond his reach.
Later, he heard whispers: that she had gained the favor of Ancestral Master Cizang and left with him. Out of hundreds of disciples, she alone survived. Qinggu Heaven thrived briefly then, but Ji Wuduan’s unease only grew. He wanted to see her, to comfort her, yet fate kept them apart.
Then came darker news: her life lamp had gone out. She was dead. But soon after, rumors said she lived. Ji Wuduan could do nothing but despair over his uselessness as her master, all while Qinggu Heaven itself trembled on the edge of collapse.
Then came the calamity.
He remembered it vividly: molten fire erupting from the earth’s veins, black smoke drowning the horizon, spirit gardens and springs drying into ash. Gengchen Immortal Mansion, proud and towering, fell in a single day. Elders, patriarchs, even Integration-stage masters were struck down. Those who survived scattered like frightened birds.
The culprit was clear: Ancestral Master Cizang had turned demonic. His betrayal slaughtered saints, destroyed sect legacies, and tore Gengchen’s ten-thousand-year foundation to pieces.
Ji Wuduan had fled then, carrying what disciples he could to Guyu Hollow, where an old friend lived. There, he sought refuge, abandoning his old post and past.
Nearly a decade had passed since. He had long buried the memory of his pitiful disciple, convinced she had vanished like a fleeting flower.
Yet here she stood, alive.
His chest swelled with disbelief, guilt, and sorrow. He had not been a good master, not truly. How could fate reunite them now?
While Ji Wuduan’s emotions surged, Liao Tingyan blinked, utterly lost. Master? Whose master? Mine—or the body’s?
She glanced sideways at Sima Jiao. Boyfriend, help me out here.
Sima Jiao had been leaning in the shadows all this time, aura tightly concealed. Only when Ji Wuduan followed her gaze did he notice the figure in the corner.
“Thud—”
Ji Wuduan dropped to his knees.
His mind flashed back to that day—the earth shaking, blood raining, corpses falling like leaves. Ancestral Master Cizang had carved through saints as if they were weeds. Even after leaving for the Demon Realm, his infamy grew. No one dared speak his name aloud.
And now, here he was.
Ji Wuduan’s chest tightened until he could barely breathe.
At that moment, the purple-robed man who had been knocked aside earlier stormed back in, shouting, “Ji Wuduan! Today I’ll see you dea—”
The words died in his throat. He froze, eyes widening at the figure in shadow, then collapsed to his knees, shaking like a leaf.
Two of his disciples, once from Gengchen, recognized that face as well—the one who had butchered the Shi family. They too fell to their knees, trembling. Even those who didn’t know what was happening dropped in fear.
Liao Tingyan: “…” Really, everyone? He hasn’t even looked at you.
Her Demon Lord hadn’t moved a muscle, yet the purple-robed man scrambled to his feet and fled, smashing through several doors in his panic. His followers scattered after him.
Silence fell. Ji Wuduan still knelt, drenched in sweat, while Sima Jiao finally shifted, straightening lazily and letting his gaze linger on Ji Wuduan.
That single look chilled Ji Wuduan to the bone. He recalled an old rumor: that Ancestral Master Cizang could see through hearts, exposing every hidden sin.
Liao Tingyan leaned close, whispering in Sima Jiao’s ear, “Is that my master?”
He slid an arm around her waist, voice calm. “Seems so.”
“…Did I have a good relationship with him?”
“Not sure.” He smirked faintly. “But I see no malice in him.”
That was enough.
Liao Tingyan gently slipped free and went to lift Ji Wuduan up. Her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Master. I… had an accident. I lost my memories. I don’t remember you.”
Ji Wuduan’s lips trembled. “Ah… I see.” He understood nothing. The shock was too heavy.
His two disciples limped over, faces bruised. “Master, what happened? Who is this senior sister?”
Panic flared in Ji Wuduan. He grabbed their hands tightly, terrified they might say something wrong and draw the Demon Lord’s ire.
Liao Tingyan cleared her throat, trying to ease the tension. “Master, were you injured just now?”
One disciple tilted his head, curious. “Master? This senior sister calls you Master? Was she the one who drove off those White Emperor Mountain people?”
Ji Wuduan swallowed, then forced out, “This is my long-lost disciple, your Senior Sister Liao.”
He stiffened, realizing her cultivation now far outstripped his own. For a moment, he wondered if he should change how he addressed her. But she only smiled.
“So you’re my junior brothers,” she said kindly.
The boys’ faces lit up. “Senior Sister!”
“It’s wonderful that you and Master are reunited! Senior Sister, will you come back with us to Guyu Hollow?”
Ji Wuduan’s heart nearly stopped. Foolish child! He glanced nervously at Sima Jiao, who still hadn’t spoken.
The boy, undeterred, looked at Sima Jiao. “And who is this senior?”
Sima Jiao finally moved, stepping to Liao Tingyan’s side. “Her Dao companion.” His eyes flicked to Ji Wuduan. “After so many years, won’t you take your disciple back for a reunion?” Then, to Liao Tingyan: “Let’s go see Guyu Hollow. The scenery there isn’t bad.”
Ji Wuduan almost dropped to his knees again. The Ancestral Master wanted to visit Guyu Hollow! Refusal wasn’t an option. But at least… his tone toward Tingyan was gentler, almost protective.
One disciple blurted, “So Senior Sister’s Dao companion is our Senior Brother!”
Ji Wuduan nearly strangled the boy on the spot. Calling that person senior brother? Are you tired of living?
But Sima Jiao showed no reaction, so Ji Wuduan swallowed his horror and said carefully, “Will you… stay at Guyu Hollow for a time?”
Liao Tingyan thought it felt a little like bringing her husband home to meet her family. “If it’s not too much trouble, we’ll visit.”
And wasn’t it customary to bring gifts when visiting family?
Sima Jiao, catching her thought, chuckled. He placed a small jade bottle in Ji Wuduan’s hands. “You’re injured. Take this.”
Ji Wuduan nearly wept as he accepted it. This was Ancestral Master Cizang—renowned for taking lives, not giving medicine.
On the way to Guyu Hollow, Ji Wuduan steadied his thoughts. If this man truly wished harm, no one in the cultivation world could stop him. But he hadn’t come with malice. That was blessing enough.
Unlike lofty sects, Guyu Hollow was modest—a middle-tier sect focused not on battle, but cultivation of spirit crops. Its disciples tilled colorful farmlands, growing grains, fruits, and medicines sold to other sects. Harmony was its rarest treasure.
When they arrived, the sight that greeted them was acres of vibrant farmland, disciples crouched among rows, sleeves rolled up, checking sprouts.
“Ordinary spirit grains,” Ji Wuduan explained. “Mostly tended by outer court disciples.”
Liao Tingyan blinked. This sect is… different. Everyone else strives to look like lofty immortals. And here? They’re farming.
“Elder Ji, you’re back!” disciples called, waving, before diving back into their plants.
Ji Wuduan guided them to his bamboo courtyard, heart pounding. He excused himself to alert the Hollow Master and elders.
When the news reached them, the elders all collapsed to their knees.
“That one… here? In Guyu Hollow?” the Hollow Master whispered, voice faint.
Ji Wuduan grimaced. “Would I dare lie?”
“Should we… evacuate?” asked a plump elder.
“Run? And anger him? We’d all be dead,” another snapped.
Ji Wuduan lifted his hands in appeasement. “Calm yourselves. He seems… to treat Disciple Tingyan kindly. Likely he’s only accompanying her for a visit. As long as no one offends him, we’ll be safe.”
After debate, the elders agreed to prepare. They dressed in their finest robes, adorned themselves with treasures, and rehearsed their greetings before heading to the bamboo courtyard.
There, they stopped short.
The younger disciples had already gathered, crowding around Liao Tingyan.
“I told you, didn’t I? My senior sister is beautiful! When the others return, they’ll be thrilled!”
“Senior Sister Liao, these things called melon seeds are delicious! We’ve never grown them here. Can you teach us?”
“Of course,” Liao Tingyan laughed. “Plant them, and maybe you’ll get a harvest.”
“Thank you, Senior Sister!”
“Senior Sister, why doesn’t your Dao companion talk?”
Liao Tingyan teased, “He doesn’t like chatter. Be careful—if you annoy him, he’ll sell you to the Demon Realm.”
The disciples burst into laughter, the courtyard alive with joy.
At the back, the Hollow Master and elders clung weakly to bamboo stalks, wiping sweat from their brows.
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