Xuanjian Xianzu

Chapter 1355 Six Signs
His voice echoed in the empty hall, and because it was dark all around, his voice seemed deep and far-reaching, reverberating before each memorial tablet.

"Cough cough..."

Li Xuanxuan seemed to be listening for an answer. He bent down, reached his thin hand under the prayer mat, and groped around until he took out an object. He held it slowly in his hand, while the extremely noisy, pitter-pattering sound of rain reached his ears.

The rain outside is getting heavier and heavier.

He slowly raised both hands until they were in front of his eyes, and only then could he see a white thing in the gloom. This thing was thin and long, as thin as a cicada's wing—it was a jade knife.

In the pitch black, the old man first held the knife with one hand, then covered his withered hand with his face, feeling his way up the thin skin, searching for the tiny indentations.

He used his index finger to mark the spot, and with his other hand, he picked up the jade knife and began to painstakingly cut into the flesh.

Li Xuanxuan was already exhausted. Fortunately, the blade was sharp enough. During the sacrificial ceremony, it easily pierced the head of a Foundation Establishment demon, let alone a dying little cultivator.

The dried flesh was as brittle as tree bark in front of the knife; it was easily lifted up with a gentle touch, revealing a bright, round spot.

Immediately afterwards, the old man began to push upwards with three fingers. In just a moment, the golden dot rapidly enlarged and finally slid off his skin and fell to the ground!

"Thump...thump..."

The crisp sound echoed in the empty hall.

It was a golden pellet.

The golden pill, about the size of a medicinal elixir and stained with blood, bumped against the prayer mat and fell to the ground, bouncing with a thud before quickly stopping.

The protruding flesh immediately sank in, but no more blood could flow from the emaciated body. Li Xuanxuan swayed his body, raised his hand, and touched the other side of his cheek.

"Thump...thump..."

Another golden pellet rolled to the ground.

Back then, Li Xuanxuan was plagued by inner demons and could not take care of himself. Li Xijun took him to the south and planted six golden pills in Hengzhudao. The old man had secretly dug out two of them and placed them neatly next to the futon.

Now that the two stones have landed, the old man feels the overwhelming sense of weightlessness. His aged eyes slowly lift, and the extremely familiar hallucinations that tormented him in the past come rushing back, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of disorientation…

But he was no longer afraid.

Li Xuanxuan was just a farmer's son. He lost his father before he was born, lost his mother in his youth, and lost his son and grandson in middle age. His life seemed to be a constant farewell. Those long years were hard to endure, and all the sorrow and fear he had felt before would come to an end today.

He tilted his head back, slowly losing sensation in his face. The already thick darkness became even more intense. Whether he had gone deaf or the rain outside had stopped, there were no more sobs or whispers, only utterly peaceful silence.

The old man gazed at it devoutly.

After an unknown amount of time, the rain must have stopped, and the dark clouds no longer shrouded the sky and earth. Little by little, the bright moonlight pierced through the treetops, shining into the darkness high above, slowly moving and illuminating each character of the line of writing.

The spirit tablet of the late Mr. Li, whose given name was Mutian.

"Boom..."

Then came the sound of the cane hitting the ground. Li Xuanxuan gradually saw clearly that there was a low stool in the darkness next to the altar, and an old man was leaning against the wall, facing him sideways, looking around.

His face was full of wrinkles, and although there was a hint of a smile on his face, it was still overflowing with an undisguised ruthlessness. His dark eyes, tinged with gray, swept over, causing the old man kneeling in the ancestral hall like a monument to tremble.

Li Xuanxuan could never forget those eyes, even knowing it was an illusion created by the removal of the four golden beads; he still stood frozen in place.

"Father..."

But the old man merely stared at him. Li Xuanxuan, his body waning and cold sweat breaking out, hurriedly picked up the jade knife and began to feel for his heart.

'Yes... there are two more... there are two more...'

When he went to Hengzhu years ago, that cultivator implanted six golden pills in his body, one on his cheek, one on his back, and one on his chest. He had already removed the two on his back, and had just removed the one on his face. Now, only the two most dangerous ones remained!
This spot was not easy to find, but he was so thin that two round beads could be clearly felt in his chest. He used a lot of effort to cut open his collar and use the jade knife to gouge into his chest.

"Boom..."

The golden bead was as cold as his body. It hit his robe and quickly rolled back to the ground, rolling along the cracks in the bricks, only to be caught by a large hand.

The man was dressed in coarse cloth, with scars on his face and a blue bow on his back. He looked like a hunter who had come out of the mountains and forests. His eyes looked calm, but the narrow corners of his eyes showed ruthlessness and decisiveness. He smiled as he picked up the gold beads and held them quietly.

Li Xuanxuan's gaze froze, his mind went blank, and he vaguely sensed someone beside him.

Another warm hand rested on Li Xuanxuan's shoulder.

The old man raised his head—the newcomer had long, gentle eyebrows, thin cheeks, broad shoulders, and dark gray eyes that stared at him quietly.

Behind him, a young man stood with a calm expression and a sword on his back, seemingly regretting his early death and staring at him with remorse.

Only then did the old man hear a very soft sigh.

"Xuan'er."

Li Xuanxuan hadn't heard those two words for a very, very long time. He used to hear them all the time when he was young, even though they often terrified him back then.

'Xuan'er... was still a little hesitant to make a decision...'

'Xuan'er won't make it to the Foundation Establishment stage in time...'

'Xuan'er, how has life been on the lake these past few years?'

But at the very end of his life, when those two words rang out, he sobbed silently, gripping the jade knife tightly in his hand. Without hesitation, he ripped open the other side, plunging it into his chest with a brutal, gruesome motion.
"Boom...boom..."

A cold touch brushed past my hand and then slammed onto the ground again; even more figures were moving around in front of me.

Beside the hunter carrying the bow stood a man dressed in white, holding a green ruler sword, his handsome face full of smiles.

The old man felt a faint touch beside him. A pale-faced, sickly boy was kneeling beside him. He helped the boy up with great heartache. Standing to the side of the boy was a tall man with bright eyes, a clear mind, and looking straight ahead with hope.

Only the sinister-looking young man in black hurried past him, standing sideways behind him with his head down and lips pursed, seemingly not paying much attention to him.

There were more figures standing in the darkness: a man clad in lightning with piercing eyes, a handsome young man wielding a cold sword, a frail and silent woman, and his wife and daughter kneeling quietly behind him.

And then there was that man who emerged from the darkness and stood before the crowd.

He looked really young, no more than thirty years old, Li Xuanxuan thought... He was probably not even thirty years old yet. His face was neither handsome nor sharp, but very gentle. He held a scroll in his hand and stood in the distant darkness, smiling at him across the crowd.

Li Xuanxuan had never met him.

Father.

Li Xuanxuan gripped the knife, kneeling in a daze. He tried to get up, but his body was too weak. He staggered a few times and sat back down, but all eyes remained fixed on him—some gentle, some dignified, some expectant, some respectful…

In the hazy moonlight, amidst his fantasies of the end of his life, the old man finally lowered his head, his gaze slowly shifting to the small object beside him.

It was a bamboo cup, with one token after another inserted inside, gleaming brightly in the moonlight.

The old man stretched out his thin, bony hand, gently picked it up, held it in his hands, and shook it with difficulty. The jumbled bamboo skewers collided, and one slipped down.

This fortune slip is no more than a palm's length and a finger's width, and the following is written in ink at the top:
【Longjun'er】.

The three characters were written rather hastily, suggesting it was an old piece of music. It lay face up on the ground, quietly.

Li Xuanxuan stared intently with his withered eyes. He reached out to take it, turned the slip of paper, and saw three characters written on the back with blue ink and red ink.

【The Romance of the Reed Marshes】.

These three characters were so elegant and vivid, seemingly possessing a profound mystery that captivated the soul. He released his grip and slowly shook the bamboo tube. With a crisp clinking sound, another slip gently fell to the ground.

This lot, however, was completely blank, with the back facing up.

The old man reached out, picked it up, and rotated two fingers. In the clear moonlight, he could see the three characters on the fortune stick.

[To quell a mob of thieves].

The three characters are written with extremely sharp strokes, as if they are about to penetrate the back of the body. Each character is as if carved by a knife and axe, and countless heroes' blood and countless grievances and sorrows are smeared on a single character.

He took a breath, looked up, and realized that the people in the distance were no longer there. His father, who had been standing in the main hall, had also left. Only that warm hand remained on his shoulder.

The old man gently put it down, shook the bamboo tube, and heard several crisp sounds from inside. A slip of paper fell to the ground, but it was still face down. Li Xuanxuan extended two thin fingers and forcefully flipped it over; three characters appeared at the top:
【Chengqing Yu】

He realized that the warmth of the hand on his shoulder had long since disappeared, and the strength that had been holding his sleeve was gone. He felt as if there was an emptiness around him, and a chill ran through him.

Li Xuanxuan raised his head, his breathing becoming heavier. He wiped the blood from his lips, clenched his hands tightly, lifted the bamboo tube, and shook it incessantly. The bamboo stick snagged on his robe and fell to the ground, flipping over.

【Ji Tianming】.

These three characters were clearly black, yet he inexplicably saw a hint of gold in them; the color shifted, like the radiant sky over the lake…

Li Xuanxuan dared not raise his head, but only dared to shake his hand to draw a fortune stick. He heard a crisp sound of bamboo, and as before, the blank back was facing up. This time, the head fell to the ground, and the tail rested on his knee.

He gently picked it up, turned two fingers, and saw the three characters on the slip.

【Full Palace】.

The three ink characters flashed, and it seemed as if you could still see the boy's figure. His playful and smiling appearance was still vivid in your mind's eye. At his feet, people were bustling about, and the cheers were deafening. A noisy and bustling high-rise building had been erected.

How festive!

"Cough cough..."

He felt a burning sensation in his throat and didn't care about anything else. He casually put down the bamboo stick, held the bamboo tube with both hands, and shook it nervously. With a crisp clinking sound, the stick finally floated to the ground.

This bamboo stalk looked like it had been looked at often, so much so that it was worn and tattered from being constantly rubbed. It fell lightly to the ground, and the old man recognized it instantly. But still unwilling to give up, he laboriously lifted his eyelids and slowly moved his gaze until he saw the three blood-red, slightly blurred characters:
[I hate that time has passed!]
He wasn't surprised, but a painful gasp escaped his throat. He raised his hand to his lips and coughed violently, each cough causing blood to gush from his wounds, staining his robes with tiny specks.

"thump!"

Li Xuanxuan finally collapsed to the ground, the violent impact sending a jolt of pain through his face. His face felt numb and slightly damp. In the dizzying moment, he saw nothing around him, just emptiness. The lights were off, the rain had stopped, and everything was as peaceful as the instant he knelt down.

He lay on his side on the ground, his gray eyes staring silently at the fortune slip in his hand. In that instant, he moved two fingers with difficulty and gently turned the slip over.

Just like his first fortune slip, there were words after this last one as well. The old man's vision was blurred, but he could clearly see the three small, blood-red characters.

[The usurpation is imminent.]

The three words reflected a faint red hue in his pupils. The old man's clenched teeth slowly loosened, and he exhaled a long, slow breath from his lungs.

The ancestral hall was once again plunged into darkness.

"Tick."

The fine sound of rain slowly began, growing louder as it approached, quickly turning into a rapid, pattering sound, followed by thunder, and then swiftly evolving into the urgent, melodious sound of rain pounding on the eaves.

"Boom!"

The blurry sounds finally returned: hurried sobs, uneasy whispers, and soft footsteps circling in front of the hall, all converging into a soothing noise that gently tugged at the heartstrings.

"Boom..."

The jade talisman hanging on the table suddenly shattered, turning into dense dust that poured down and scattered all over the ground. Almost at the same time, the ancestral hall door creaked open.

A cold wind howled in.

What Li Ximing saw was his grandfather lying on the ground, his body twisted, his face pressed coldly against the ground, which made him feel cold all over, and he took a step forward in a daze.

"Gu..."

The objects on the ground rolled, and the golden bead rolled right up to his feet, stopping abruptly with a crash. Li Ximing slowly closed his eyes, and tears streamed down his face.

"Boom!"

He knelt down with a thud, touched the old man's withered and tattered face, and found that he was clutching something tightly in his hand, as if he had used all his strength.

A jade knife lay scattered beside him.

Li Ximing recognized the sword. Back when his family was still struggling, both Li Tongya and Li Xuanxuan used it as a sacrificial offering…

As the robes swept across the ground, the golden pellets glided across the surface, making a distant, clanging sound as they collided. Li Ximing lowered his gaze, glancing at the bloodstains on the blade and Li Xuanxuan's tightly clenched hand.

The man very gently took the fortune stick from his hand, held it in his hand, and without looking at it, his lips trembled slightly.

Unable to bear watching any longer, he raised his head, turned his face to the younger generation who had stopped before the hall, and spoke gently, as if afraid of disturbing the old man before him:

"Funeral rites".