“I… I see.”
As soon as Hou Chang Feng looks to have brought his falsified report, Qing Ming Yang inwardly heaves a sigh of relief.
Straightening his back, Qing Ming Yang feels rather impressed with himself—for being able to come up with such a report in a single day.
“…Ming Yang, can you describe this weapon spirit’s appearance to me?”
Towards this question, Qing Ming Yang thought—
(Old fogey, I have to stand in front of you with a crippled manhood, don’t you find this situation awkward enough as is? And yet, you actually have the nerves to ask me a question—when I should be in bed resting?)
Maintaining an obedient look on the outside, Qing Ming Yang answers—
“This weapon spirit is…- Where to begin? Hmm… For one it had two different colored hair, most of it was pink with a few strands of silver.”
Not having a clue as to how this nonexistent weapon spirit would even look like, Qing Ming Yang begins to describe the features of Yao Ying’s hair.
“When enraged, the silver portions of its hair would become more prominent. But the feature that stands out the most are the robes it wore. …It practically looked no different from a practitioner.”
“Oh?”
Hearing this, Hou Chang Feng narrows his eyes sharply, as he remarks—
“No different from a practitioner, you say? Could this weapon spirit have…-?”
Before Hou Chang Feng can ask, Qing Ming Yang shakes his head, and replies—
“It didn’t say anything. But chances are rather high.”
“Un.”
Nodding his head with a solemn expression on his face, Hou Chang Feng clears his throat, and says—
“Ming Yang, you’re to lead a group of clansmen into the Leng Bing Realm to search for that weapon spirit. Once you find it, you are to do everything that you can to capture it. The tools needed for this task shall be granted to you when you visit the clan’s treasure pavilion. I’ll notify them of the matter ahead of time.”
“Elder Hou, I-”
“I know that you’re injured, but you’re the only one to have seen that weapon spirit.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“…”
An awkward expression appears on Qing Ming Yang’s face. The question itself and the tone used by Hou Chang Feng when he said this—aren’t these indirectly blaming him for Xia Ri’er’s death?
(I did pin a marker on that Chen Shi family’s little girl, but I really don’t want to…-)
Since Yao Ying is living in the same Grounded City as Long Hua, the odds of encountering the latter again are rather high; and as such, Qing Ming Yang really doesn’t wish to return to the Leng Bing Realm just yet.
(…W-Well, the odds of me running into him aren’t guaranteed. Who knows? Maybe, while I’m there, he’d be busy at some other place? If so, couldn’t I take this opportunity to get rid of that Chen Shi family’s little girl once and for all?)
Due to his fear of Mo Tongzi, so long as Yao Ying is alive, she will forever be a nail near Qing Ming Yang’s heart. Under normal circumstances, a nail of this nature should be removed promptly; however—
“This matter, I…”
With how recent his encounter with Long Hua is, Qing Ming Yang is still suffering from trauma, as such—
“Ai.”
Heaving a sigh, Hou Chang Feng—perhaps feeling genuinely awkward about the matter, walks to one of the garden plots; and—
“…Ai.”
With a reluctant expression on his face, Hou Chang Feng plucks a spirit herb out of the dirt, and turns to Qing Ming Yang, while instructing—
“Ground it, and bask it in water to brew a cup of tea with. After drinking the tea, it should heal your… That thing.”
Shaking his head, Hou Chang Feng tosses the spirit herb over to Qing Ming Yang, who makes a leap for it.
Holding the spirit herb, Qing Ming Yang asks—
“Elder Hou, this spirit herb…-?”
The form of the spirit herb is that of a pale blue flower, and a single sniff of it causes all the pores on Qing Ming Yang’s body to open.
“Don’t ask. Ai…”
Waving his hand, Hou Chang Feng gestures for Qing Ming Yang to get out of his sights.
Clasping his hands together, Qing Ming Yang bows to Hou Chang Feng, and says—
“Many thanks to Elder Hou, I shall definitely accomplish what you’ve asked for.”
“If you can, the matter with Xia Ri’er can be water under the bridge.”
“Understood.”
Storing the spirit herb away, Qing Ming Yang runs off, and looking to his back, Hou Chang Feng mutters—
“I raised that herb for over 30 years… To let him use it to mend… Ai…”
Feeling rather sour in the heart, Hou Chang Feng clutches his chest.
“…Fated encounters and opportunities can be met, but cannot be begged for. If a practitioner misses one of them, who knows when they might be able to encounter another? If that surnamed Qing can live up to those words… He would be a promising talent. As for that surnamed Xia… Ai, the dead has no value.”
Practitioners die daily, and the moment they die, they would generally be forgotten about over the passage of time—unless their name was something that had once shaken the entirety of a single generation.
For the Ling Yuan family—which has well over 100 bloodline branches, missing a single clansman isn’t such a big deal.
What’s important for the Ling Yuan family is the possession of younger generation talents.
This is a common trend in all practitioner households—because having talented young blood is the deciding factor that will determine where a clan’s future standings will be.
As such, until a member of the younger generation is able to become a pillar of support for the entire household, they might as well be nameless nobodies.
(Hmm. I should have Léi Chūn (雷春) and Xiáng Léi (降雷) enter the necropolis this time as well, those two—talented as they are, they’re in need of further sharpening.)
Thinking of this, Hou Chang Feng immediately begins to make preparations.