Dreaming for 10,000 years

Chapter 382 Goodbye
He has always passively accepted the ways of the martial world; now, it's time for him to actively choose his own path.

"Little Fatty Lu, Little Fatty Lu," he murmured to himself, as if the pockmarked boy from his dream was still beside him, cracking jokes. "If you have wine, you must drink three bowls with me right now!"

He had no wine, but he had a sword!

The night wind howled as he strode towards the city gates, his robes billowing like an eagle spreading its wings.

Go forth, with no turning back, only the sword in your heart!

The journey from Luoyang to Mount Hua was not long. By the time Linghu Chong stepped onto the mountain path, the "Extreme Overlord Technique" within his body had already refined all eight different types of true energy. Under the scorching sun, his true energy was surging like a river, and his every move was filled with power, making him one of the top masters of the time.

At the foot of Jade Maiden Peak, familiar stone steps wind their way into the clouds.

Once upon a time, he was the top disciple of the Huashan Sect, the "Chong'er" that his master Yue Buqun was so proud of. Now, however, he has become a "traitor" in the eyes of everyone in the martial arts world.

"A traitor?" He scoffed, tilting his head back and gulping down a mouthful of strong liquor. The burning sensation as the liquor rolled down his throat couldn't suppress the bitterness surging in his heart.

The mountain gate was deserted; Yue Buqun had already led his disciples down the mountain. Linghu Chong easily bypassed the disciples left behind and arrived at the Cliff of Contemplation at the back of the mountain, familiar with the route.

The cliff face remained stark and imposing, with wild grass growing lushly in the crevices. This was the place where he reflected on his mistakes, and also the blessed land where he met Feng Qingyang and learned the Dugu Nine Swords.

"Grandmaster Feng!" he called out into the darkness from the edge of the cliff, "Disciple Linghu Chong requests an audience!"

The wind howled, but no one answered.

Linghu Chong took a deep breath, drew his longsword, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes. With a flick of his wrist, the blade drew a dazzling silver arc in the sunlight.

"Dugu Nine Swords!"

Sword light cascaded down like a waterfall!
In an instant, sword energy surged and raged, scattering pebbles on the cliff face and carving deep sword marks into the stone surface.

At this moment, Linghu Chong was completely different from a few months ago. His internal strength was so profound and his sword intent so sharp that even the ordinary iron sword in his hand emitted a dragon-like hum that resounded throughout the entire back mountain of Mount Hua!

As the moon rose above the treetops, Linghu Chong suddenly heard a voice.

"You've undergone a complete transformation in just three months?"

An aged voice drifted from the cliff top. Feng Qingyang, with his flowing white beard and golden face, gracefully descended the cliff, his eyes gleaming with a sharp light.

"Grandmaster Feng!" Linghu Chong quickly sheathed his sword and bowed.

"Strange!" Feng Qingyang stroked his beard in amazement. "His swordsmanship is so refined, as if he's honed it over decades, and his internal energy has improved by leaps and bounds." He narrowed his eyes. "Have you encountered some extraordinary adventure, kid?"

"It wasn't a miraculous encounter, but rather a bizarre dream I had!" Linghu Chong said.

Feng Qingyang asked in confusion, "A dream?"

“Yes! In my dream, I not only learned internal energy cultivation, but also sparred with others and practiced swordsmanship diligently!” Linghu Chong said, “In my dream, there was also a desert oasis with a strange man named Shi Fei.”

"What you think about during the day, you dream about at night. Perhaps you've been studying martial arts lately, which is why you're having such a dream, like a sudden enlightenment!" Feng Qingyang pondered for a moment and offered a reasonable explanation.

Looking at the callus on his palm, the scent of wine from that moonlit desert night seemed to still linger in his nostrils. Linghu Chong murmured, "Perhaps!"

"Speak!" Feng Qingyang suddenly turned around, his robes fluttering like crane wings. "What brings you here this time? I've already told you."

“This disciple has been expelled from Mount Hua.”

These words were like a block of ice thrown into a pool of water. Feng Qingyang's back visibly stiffened for a moment. Linghu Chong recounted his experiences over the past few months: fighting alone against a group of heroes outside the Medicine King Temple, suffering injustice and humiliation in Luoyang, until Yue Buqun's cold words, "From now on, all ties are severed."

When the old man spoke of the descendants of the Sword Sect coming up the mountain to provoke him, his knuckles turned white from clenching his fists. He mentioned that when he was expelled from the sect, an invisible sword aura carved a three-inch deep mark into the bluestone on the cliff edge.

"Just because I suspect you of secretly learning martial arts?" Feng Qingyang suddenly burst into laughter, the sound shaking down a shower of pine needles. "What a Yue Buqun! What a Qi Sect leader!"

The laughter abruptly stopped. The old man's hunched back looked particularly desolate in the twilight.

Feng Qingyang's words carried a hint of barely perceptible disappointment: "The Sword Sect is worthless, and the Qi Sect is worthless too!"

In his heart, the once mighty and powerful Mount Hua, which gave him a sense of belonging, was gone. After internal strife, Mount Hua, though still having a faint reputation in the martial arts world, was far less prestigious than before.

The current sect leader is such a petty person, lacking any semblance of a sect leader's demeanor.

How disappointed he was!
His life was like a history of the decline of Mount Hua. He recalled how magnificent the plaque in front of the mountain gate, inscribed with "Sword Qi Soars to the Sky," was when he first entered Mount Hua seventy years ago! He remembered his master pointing to the sea of ​​clouds and saying, "Disciples of Mount Hua should have this kind of broad-mindedness."

now
As he grew older, Mount Hua also weakened. He was helpless and could only watch Mount Hua slowly slide into the abyss.

"What do these old stories have to do with me?" Feng Qingyang's voice suddenly sounded ten years older. "Whether you are the sect leader's first disciple or a stray dog, do you expect me, this old man, to seek justice for you?"

If he can prove that Linghu Chong learned the swordsmanship from him, then Linghu Chong will be accepted back into the Huashan Sect.

"This disciple was just about to ask my grandmaster to intervene..." Linghu Chong saw Feng Qingyang's expression change and continued, "But not to seek justice."

"Then what do you want to do?" Feng Qingyang said with a cold snort.

Linghu Chong said, word by word, "This disciple wishes to rebuild the Huashan Sword Sect!"

The mountain wind suddenly stopped, and even the sound of pine needles falling to the ground could be clearly heard.

Feng Qingyang's white beard moved without wind, and his cloudy eyes suddenly shot out a sharp, sword-like light: "Say that again?"

Linghu Chong straightened his back, his sword sheath slamming heavily onto the bluestone, producing a clear, metallic clang: "This disciple will rebuild the Huashan Sword Sect!"

"Absurd!" Feng Qingyang's sleeves billowed, and pebbles tumbled down from the cliff edge. "You think establishing a sect is child's play?"

"Grandmaster Uncle, you are wise." Linghu Chong advanced instead of retreating, pointing to the sea of ​​clouds below the mountain, "Does the Huashan Sect of today still possess the aura of its former glory, where sword energy soared to the heavens?"

"Master Gentleman Sword is not the strongest among the leaders of the Five Mountains Sect. In the martial arts world, he is just an average expert!"

"So what about this generation of Huashan disciples? Apart from the disciples, there are very few who have achieved anything significant! In other words, the Huashan Sect has no lineage left."

"This generation of Mount Hua is weak, and the next generation of Mount Hua will be even weaker. From this point of view, Mount Hua has no hope."

For a martial arts sect, is top-notch martial arts more important, or is its reputation in the martial arts world more important?

None of that matters; the sect disciples are the most important!
With people, you have everything. Some people can create top-notch martial arts even without top-notch skills, and they can make a name for themselves in the martial arts world even without a reputation!

Without outstanding disciples, a sect has no hope!

"Ridiculous!" Feng Qingyang flicked his sleeves, deciding to ignore Linghu Chong. But one sentence from Linghu Chong made him stop in his tracks.

"Grandmaster Feng, you once risked your life for Mount Hua, didn't you?"

(End of this chapter)