Chapter Thirty-Nine: Hu Yuan’s Past

The disciples felt as if they had been granted amnesty. These past days, Hu Yuan had scolded them enough; now, with Yang Nan stepping in, their gratitude surged like an endless river, naturally overflowing with thanks.

Hu Yuan barked, “Move these jars of wine to the inner chamber. If anyone sneaks a taste again, I’ll cook you all into a fine brew!”

None dared neglect the task. Last time, a theft had earned them a tongue-lashing from their senior uncle; another slip, and he might not stop at mere words.

Yang Nan saw the stern look on Hu Yuan’s face, but sensed it was mostly bluster, not genuine anger. He smiled, “Senior Brother, you’d never actually cook them into wine. It’s just a scare. But you’re always so fierce—people have started calling you ‘Hu the Blade.’”

Hu Yuan chuckled sheepishly, “You’ve heard that nickname too, Junior Brother?”

Yang Nan asked, intrigued, “Is there a story behind it?”

Hu Yuan laughed, “It’s a long tale. Let’s discuss it inside.”

Yang Nan nodded and said to Hun Yuan and Qian Ren behind him, “Take out the spirit items, count them, and hand them over to the junior disciples.”

Hun Yuan knew the younger uncle and senior uncle had matters to discuss and went to handle the exchange. Hu Yuan grinned, “Leave it to them. Are you afraid anything will be missing from my Purple Qi Hall?”

Yang Nan followed Hu Yuan into the inner sanctum. After sitting and chatting for a while, he learned that his burly senior brother had led an extraordinary life. From the moment he became a registered disciple, he went down the mountain to serve the sect. While guarding the mines, he slew three monsters in succession, remained an outer disciple for over a decade, and faced countless dangers in mines, herb gardens, blood pools, and underworld caves. Wielding a Seven-Star Ritual Blade, he vanquished countless demons and gained great renown.

His killing style was swift—usually one strike—so people called him “Hu the Blade.”

Despite its butcher-like sound, the name spoke of formidable power. His blade, like thunder splitting mountains, would leave enemies dead or gravely wounded, its force truly terrifying.

Yang Nan listened with envy, “Senior Brother, what cultivation method do you practice to have such divine might?”

Hu Yuan smiled, “I practice the ‘Annihilating Mad Blade.’ It’s all about gathering all your power into a single decisive strike. One swing—annihilate the soul. Three misses—destroy oneself. Even grandmasters may not withstand a single blow from me.”

‘This Annihilating Mad Blade is so brutal—does it mean victory or death, nothing in between? Why would Senior Brother choose such a terrifying method? If the enemy is too strong, wouldn’t he have no chance to escape?’

Yang Nan frowned, feeling concerned for his senior brother. The blade sounded powerful, but had clear drawbacks. There were countless experts and strange artifacts in the world; many could withstand three strikes from Hu Yuan. If he met such an opponent, wouldn’t he suffer backlash instead of victory?

Three misses—destroy oneself!

It was hardly an auspicious omen.

Hu Yuan saw Yang Nan’s silent worry and clapped him on the shoulder, laughing, “Don’t fret for your foolish brother. I’ve practiced for decades and know this method’s strengths and weaknesses. Do you really think I’d charge recklessly at strong foes like an idiot, not knowing when to flee?”

Yang Nan couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Of course—Senior Brother has seen much of the world and isn’t a reckless youth. If he can’t win, he can always retreat.’

“Senior Brother, why did you choose such a method? There are plenty of excellent techniques in the Hidden Arts Pavilion. Didn’t you find a better one?” Yang Nan recalled the hundreds of methods in the pavilion; surely Hu Yuan could have chosen something superior.

Hu Yuan’s expression darkened. “Junior Brother, I came to the mountain at eight, was chosen as a novice, became a registered disciple at twelve, an outer disciple at fifteen, and an inner disciple at thirty. Do you know why I advanced so quickly?”

Yang Nan’s heart raced. Was his burly senior brother a genius? Did he possess an immortal treasure like the Opening Spirit Talisman?

Impossible. If such treasures were common, experts wouldn’t be so rare.

Yang Nan himself had advanced rapidly thanks to the Undying Yin-Yang Wheel, dual powers, and the Heavenly Origin Sanctuary. Hu Yuan couldn’t have had the same advantages.

“Senior Brother, you have outstanding talent—of course you advanced quickly,” Yang Nan concluded, attributing it to innate aptitude.

Hu Yuan chuckled, “You’re wrong. My talent is inferior to yours! I don’t even have a sacred phenomenon. What brought me here is just two words.”

Yang Nan asked, surprised, “Which two?”

Hu Yuan said quietly, “Desperation.” He sighed, “Since entering the sect, I knew I lacked talent and connections. Without effort, I’d only gaze at the mountain in vain. So every method I picked was fierce and domineering, seeking unstoppable power. Do you think I didn’t know the Annihilating Mad Blade had fatal flaws—that it could kill me as easily as my foe?”

Yang Nan began to understand why his senior brother treated him with such regard. He nodded solemnly, “Every advantage has its cost. Senior Brother sought progress at any price, so you advanced quickly—but you had little choice.”

Hu Yuan gave a cold laugh, “Cultivation is a long, arduous path. Every day, countless people try to seek immortality beneath Mount Kunlun, but how many truly succeed? I was just a farmer’s son, with no elders or rare elixirs to aid me—only a fierce determination. Without that, I’d have nothing. Cultivation is about risking death for rebirth.”

Kunlun methods: fast early progress, slow later. Slow early progress, quick later—like the Demon Guard True Solution of the Void Sect. If it weren’t for the endless spiritual energy from the Heavenly Origin Talisman, Yang Nan would still be a fourth-rank Master after years.

Soldier and Master ranks are only the entry stages. If progress is slow even here, how could one hope for immortality?

Yang Nan sighed inwardly. It was precisely because Hu Yuan was alone and unsupported that he sympathized with Yang Nan—otherwise, why would he care so much?

Yet, even with desperate effort, later stages require fate and talent. Rare elixirs and hard work help little.

Hu Yuan was already sixty, stalled at eighth-rank Master, unable to reach perfection and break through to Sage. Knowing his potential was spent, disappointment drove him to drown his sorrows in wine…

Man’s plans pale before heaven’s…

Yang Nan understood, but felt no pity. What Hu Yuan needed was not sympathy, but encouragement. Without confidence, he’d never reach the Sage rank.

“Senior Brother, don’t be so discouraged. I’ve heard there are several miraculous items in this world that can help cultivators ascend without hindrance. At sixty, you still have many years ahead—why despair? Was your old boldness only an illusion?”

He recalled legends of Bone-Changing Pills, Rebirth Fruit, and the Ten Divine Weapons—spiritual treasures that could ease advancement—so he mentioned them deliberately.

Hu Yuan understood Yang Nan’s good intentions. Though such things were rare and elusive, at least there was hope. He straightened himself, laughing, “Thank you, Junior Brother. After sixty years of effort, I shouldn’t give up so easily! I was wrong—I’ll redouble my efforts from now on.”

Yang Nan admired his senior brother’s courage and resolve. “Senior Brother, why not open the Monkey’s Drunk and have a taste?”

Hu Yuan seemed to shed his burdens, returning to his former boldness. He tossed a wine jar to Yang Nan, opened another for himself, and after a few hearty gulps, exclaimed, “Excellent wine! I don’t drink just to drown my sorrows. When I’m fully intoxicated, blade in hand, my blood boils, soul sharpens, power flows freely, and the Annihilating Mad Blade is stronger than ever. This wine is my medicine!”

Yang Nan laughed. Warriors have always drunk to bolster courage, but he hadn’t expected an immortal cultivator to do the same—it was indeed rare.

After some time, Hu Yuan said, “Junior Brother, you slew four demons in less than a year, intimidating the Demon Valley—such deeds are worthy of Kunlun. However, you showed no mercy in slaying the ancestor’s beloved pet. Some in the sect have proposed removing you as steward of the Jade Pure Hall. You must be careful.”

“Oh? They actually dare? Surely it’s those from the Li clan.” Yang Nan smirked coldly; these people would not give up.

Hu Yuan nodded with a sigh, “They had no boldness when managing Demon Valley, but now say you kill wantonly and lack compassion, seeking to take your foundation. However, unless you resign, even the Sect Leader can’t easily order you out of Spirit Beast Mountain. That’s Kunlun’s rule: so long as you pay tribute and pacify the beasts, Spirit Beast Mountain is your domain—no one can take it.”

Yang Nan grinned, “Even if they try, I’m not afraid. If pushed, I’ll empty Spirit Beast Mountain—beasts and treasures, all gone. Let them have an empty mountain; what good will it do?”

He had long planned this. Everyone in Demon Valley obeyed him; if the Li clan tried to steal Spirit Beast Mountain, he would clear the valley, take tens of thousands of demons to a deserted island in the Eastern Sea, and rebuild there. What could they do?

Hu Yuan was shocked by such ruthlessness, then laughed, “Junior Brother, you are truly fierce! Leaving them an empty valley—what use is that? Your move is brilliant!” He spoke with admiration, feeling himself inferior.