Chapter 68: So Even Sir Feels Lonely

“And what about Zhao Yuqing?.”

“What?”

“The sword Zhao Yuqing left behind.”

The Old Dragon King shook his head. “This old man doesn’t know either.”

“Don’t know?”

“Mmm.”

The Old Dragon King said seriously, “I truly do not know. Zhao Yuqing always kept to himself. That sword was left hundreds of years ago. I never paid much attention to such things.”

Chen Changsheng said, “Then it seems this Black Flood Dragon won’t get past this path.”

The Old Dragon King nodded. “Correct. To borrow the channel from Bibo Lake into the river, Autumn Moon Market is an unavoidable route. He absolutely cannot change course. He either abandons Dragon Ascension… or if he tries to force his way through, he’ll likely face death.”

“This is the Black Flood Dragon’s fourth attempt at passing his Tribulation. He succeeded in passing the Tribulation itself. A thousand-year hope finally seemed attainable. Who could have foreseen such trouble during his Water Crossing?”

Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but sigh deeply. “To endure four Heavenly Tribulations… it shows his will truly is unshakable. Such a fate is truly pitiful.”

The Old Dragon King paused for a moment. “Does Mr. Chen wish to help him?”

Chen Changsheng thought for a bit. “I am merely a Rogue Cultivator. How could I possibly help him?”

Chen Changsheng felt a quiet life was preferable. He really didn’t want this matter dragging him into conflict with Zhao Yuqing. It was wise to avoid making trouble with such an unfathomable person.

The Old Dragon King traced his wine cup. A faint gleam flashed in his eyes before he spoke again. “If Sir wished to help him, then this old man would, of course, consider it a welcome favor to grant you.”

Hearing this, Chen Changsheng asked, “Dragon Lord, it seems you place quite some faith in me?”

The Old Dragon King shook his head. “Not really.”

The Old Dragon King felt somewhat undecided. Truthfully, he felt pity for the Black Flood Dragon too. But the path to Dragon Ascension is inherently treacherous. The rule that one mountain cannot hold two tigers is absolute.

He still leaned towards the Black Flood Dragon dying under the decapitating sword at West Bridge.

But if Chen Changsheng truly intended to help… then this matter…

…it would be different.

Chen Changsheng observed the Old Dragon King’s calm expression, the dragon’s eyes showing not the slightest ripple.

This Old Dragon King is truly an old fox. Not a single tail slips out.

But in fact, the calmer he appeared, the more certain it was that something was amiss. The answer contradicting this outward calm was likely the very reason for the Old Dragon King’s hesitation.

Chen Changsheng drained the wine in his cup. He set it down and asked, “If I were to take that sword… would the Dragon Lord devour me?”

His words left the Old Dragon King momentarily stunned.

In fact, when Chen Changsheng uttered that sentence, the Old Dragon King realized he no longer had a choice.

He wouldn’t say “yes”. He dared not say “yes”.

The reason…

…was solely because the man before him was Chen Changsheng.

The Old Dragon King stared into Chen Changsheng’s eyes. “No.”

Upon getting this reply, a faint smile touched Chen Changsheng’s face.

He picked up the wine pot and refilled the Old Dragon King’s cup.

“Dragon Lord, drink.”

The Old Dragon King picked up the wine cup. He glanced down at the wine within, then looked up at Chen Changsheng.

His expression was no longer the same passive calm as before; it had grown complicated.

But ultimately, he drank the wine down.

The cup landed back on the table. The matter was settled.

…

After finishing those two pots of wine, the Old Dragon King returned to Tongtian River.

Chen Changsheng returned to Flowing Cloud Temple.

He did not go to retrieve the sword. Even after sensing from the Old Dragon King’s words that ‘Zhao Yuqing’ would surely give him face, he still refrained.

Chen Changsheng’s earlier words were a gamble.

He wanted to understand exactly what role the Old Dragon King assigned him.

Clearly, the result matched his thoughts.

Initially, the Old Dragon King looked down on him. But after the incident involving the Third Prince, he began treating him as an equal.

Chen Changsheng had guessed even then that the Old Dragon King harbored some apprehension. It wasn’t about seeing him as a friend, but seeing him as someone who must not be offended. Fear bred caution.

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That cup of wine… the Old Dragon King drank it.

It meant the Old Dragon King had yielded.

Chen Changsheng stroked his chin. “It looks like… I used to have quite some influence.”

He shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it further.

Brooding was pointless; it only ever led to conjecture. Without seeing it himself, it could never feel real.

He had to find the answer gradually.

“Perhaps Zhao Yuqing knows something,” he murmured. “The Old Dragon King dares not speak… but surely this Zhao Yuqing dares.”

He made up his mind to wade into these murky waters.

When he returned to the mountain sect, Tong Zhihuan was starting a fire to cook dinner. Meals on the mountain were simple – just a bowl of plain congee with some wild greens.

The greens were picked from the mountainside. They tasted slightly bitter, yet held a fresh, distinct fragrance. They weren’t bad to eat.

“Sir, you’re back…” Tong Zhihuan had thought Sir wouldn’t return until nightfall.

Chen Changsheng asked, “When did you learn to cook?”

Tong Zhihuan replied, “When you travel alone often, you pick things up. But what I make is barely edible.”

Chen Changsheng glanced into the pot. “It looks perfectly fine to me.”

He reached into the pot and pulled out a wild green with his fingers. He popped it into his mouth to taste.

“Sir…”

Tong Zhihuan hadn’t expected Sir to do such a thing.

He watched Sir eat with obvious relish, too stunned to speak.

Chen Changsheng nodded. “Tastes good. When I was a child, I often went into the mountains to gather wild greens to eat. Thinking back, it all feels very distant now.”

Tong Zhihuan snapped out of his daze. A smile touched his face. “I’m glad Sir likes it.”

He never once thought Sir would do something lowly. The Immortals he envisioned were lofty beings, untouched by worldly dust. But Mr. Chen was different. Mr. Chen would devour peaches avidly, sit drinking wine in the courtyard, and even scoop food directly from the pot with his hand.

Tong Zhihuan felt this was precisely why Sir felt so genuinely human.

This was likely the reason he found Mr. Chen so approachable too.

“Sir… did you grow up in poverty?” Tong Zhihuan asked tentatively.

Chen Changsheng said, “Not exactly impoverished. Back then, I adored vegetable rice. Chop the fresh, wild greens from the hills into small pieces, stir-fry them into the rice… the flavor was just amazing. Back then… I could eat three large bowls by myself.”

This was the first time Tong Zhihuan had heard Sir speak of his past. So, even before becoming an Immortal, Sir had lived in this world like an ordinary person.

He truly felt curious about Sir’s former life.

Tong Zhihuan couldn’t help but ask further, “Can Zhihuan ask… about Sir’s hometown?”

Hearing this, Chen Changsheng paused.

He pondered for a moment, then finally answered, “My hometown… close, it seems right before my eyes. Far… even farther away than the distant horizon.”

Chen Changsheng chuckled, patted his shoulder, and added, “I can’t help but envy you a little, Zhihuan. Your family and friends remain. You have a home to return to.”

Tong Zhihuan stared at Sir, momentarily speechless.

He suddenly felt Sir’s profound loneliness.

And yet, he still didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand how Sir could speak of these things with a smile.

Had he made peace with it?

Tong Zhihuan rejected that thought instantly.

He shouldn’t be able to make peace with such things… A heavy sigh rose silently within him. Can it be?… So even Sir feels lonely?