The End of Every Story

The fragrance of flowers and the songs of birds.

Zhang Feiyu had tidied up the entire small courtyard neatly. As a Foundation Establishment cultivator, he had forcefully advanced to the Yuanying Stage with the help of medicinal pills, having tasted all kinds of heavenly materials and earthly treasures.

But from now on, those pills would be of little use.

With no other choice, he did not dwell on it. Spending everyday concocting pills in the yard brought him great joy. His only worry was Zhang DaoMing's deteriorating health. Over the past decade, he had fainted several times, only to be revived after taking pills that replenished his spiritual power.

Zhang Feiyu watched anxiously, feeling uneasy as he tried everything he could but to no avail.

Zhang Daoming reassured him with a smile: “Don’t worry, aging and illness leading to death is only natural. No one can live forever. Given that I’ve lived for so long as someone at the Mountain Moving Stage, I'd say I've gotten my money's worth already. Wanting to live longer would be greedy."

However, the longing in his eyes told otherwise.

It was not a longing for himself though.

Zhang Daoming often told Zhang Feiyu about someone - the most remarkable cultivator he had ever met in terms of talent and character.

He was also the one who could break conventions the most.

Laughing, Zhang Daoming also said to Zhang Feiyu, "When he returns, he may be able to cure your injuries and allow you to continue cultivating."

"If we go by seniority, you should call him Chen Ancestor."

Whenever Zhang Daoming talked about Chen Xia, joy spread across his face.

Zhang Feiyu listened attentively as well.

Ten years later.

The second patriarch of the Zhang Family came, kneeling outside the door this time, begging Zhang Daoming and Senior Wang Yangzi to help save the Zhang Family from destruction.

Looking haggard and speaking woefully, he pleaded with utmost humility, having clearly suffered a major setback.

Unable to watch him kneel, Zhang Daoming let him in and shook his head, saying:

“Like I said, I have severed ties with the Zhang Family. There is no point in finding me because I can’t help anyway.”

“I did have an accident some years ago. Though I haven’t said anything, I know it was a Reversing the Tide cultivator from the Zhang Family who saved me. While that was a great favor, we should let bygones be bygones. "

"Besides, I am not familiar with Senior Wang Yangzi at all, let alone know how to contact her. There are also rumors that she is in secluded meditation."

"So to repay the favor, take whatever pills and medicinal herbs you like from this house. They are definitely worth more than my life. Consider it as settling the favor. Please do not come looking for me again in the future."

The second Zhang patriarch fell silent, sighing repeatedly before mumbling frantically:

“Mother was anxious to see the Zhang Family prosper before she passed. Could the Zhang Family really fall? No no no, this cannot happen. I cannot fail Mother and the entire Zhang Family.”

Zhang Daoming heaved a sigh as well but said no more.

The first leaf of the roadside tree fell.

Autumn was here.

The second Zhang patriarch left without taking any pills, and Zhang Feiyu left with him.

After all, Zhang Feiyu was part of the Zhang Family, born and raised in it without having cut ties. Unable to watch the family's destruction, he followed the second patriarch back.

When bidding farewell, Zhang Feiyu spent heavily to hire a Gold Core cultivator to look after Zhang Daoming, instructing him to examine thrice a day.

And so began the thousand-year separation.

Only the old man was left in the small house.

The doctor came to check thrice daily as scheduled before leaving without lingering.

Zhang Daoming often talked to himself, with rapidly changing expressions, uttering cryptic words:

"Let's start the game with horses. Your horse is gone."

"Your horse is gone too."

"No, you can't take my horse. I'm at the Reversing the Tide Stage."

"Oh, alright then."

He was mimicking a conversation, no longer thinking clearly as his consciousness grew increasingly muddled.

The doctor could only sigh:

“It’s admirable for someone at the Mountain Moving Stage to have lived for almost 20,000 years. Such cultivators seldom live past 10,000 years.”

Old Zhang sank into senility for years until one day, he suddenly became lucid. He told the visiting doctor not to come anymore.

The doctor nodded without commenting, thinking it was about that time.

The dying often have a resurgence of vitality before the end.

The next day was a nice sunny day.

Sitting in a recliner inside the house, Zhang Daoming slowly raised his hand and pointed forward.

With his last spiritual power, ripples appeared in midair.

He wanted to recreate a painting he once saw in the house.

It depicted a chess set with a figure in green robes and a big yellow dog playing against each other, and he was the observer.

Spiritual power slowly materialized the image as Zhang Daoming grew increasingly frail, seemingly unable to last until its completion.

At this moment, the highest heaven opened as a figure stepped out of the portal.

Powerful experts noticed and went to check.

The figure instantly traversed the Upper and Middle Planes and stood at the door.

Facing the dying Zhang Daoming, his grey and white glow peaked as he forcefully seized the timeline, utilizing his utmost power to pull it forward forcibly.

Gasping, Zhang Daoming stared at Chen Xia in disbelief and pleasant surprise, asking incredulously:

“Chen Xia?!”

“Yes,” Chen Xia nodded, not looking happy at all.

Because he had only pulled enough timeline for old Zhang to live one more day at full strength.

For a Mountain Moving cultivator to have lived until now was already violating the Heavenly Dao.

But Zhang Daoming was overjoyed. He walked over briskly despite his infirmity, sizing Chen Xia up and chatting with him excitedly while recounting past events.

Just like every elderly, he chatted animatedly.

About many things.

Wang Yangzi, Zhang Feiyu, neighbors... He also asked Chen Xia about his experience in the Great Death Realm.

Their conversation never ceased with Chen Xia cherishing every moment.

But the inevitable still arrived.

It rained heavily the next day.

Gloomy weather.

Zhang Daoming coughed violently before losing his voice, murmuring his last words to Chen Xia:

"Actually I didn't want to tell you this, but thinking of the past makes me restless. I hope you can save the Zhang Family from this calamity, in return for their favor in saving me back then. "

"You don't need to go all out, just help the Zhang Family get through this tribulation. If you can't, don't push yourself."

Mumbling again, Zhang Daoming breathed:

"It would be great if I could see the big yellow dog again."

He lost consciousness after that, with only the faintest trace of breath left in his body.

Grey and white light filled Chen Xia’s eyes.

It spread for thousands of miles, freezing everything in time. He forcibly preserved old Zhang's last breath.

But Chen Xia could not find any other way.

One year.

Two years.

...

An upper realm powerful expert could endure no more and came to interrogate. The moment he stepped into the house:

Chen Xia uttered coldly, "Get lost."

Unconvinced, he took another step forward.

And was blasted back three thousand miles, falling down severely wounded.

Chen Xia didn't dare let go of the timeline.

At least for now, old Zhang still lived.

But for how long could he maintain the time stoppage?

Ten years at best.

The vague pressure of Heavenly Dao emerged.

Chen Xia’s body quivered as blood oozed from his seven apertures. The grey and white glow in his eyes faded as he could no longer withstand it, collapsing heavily onto the ground.

The thousands of miles of greyish white faded away along with old Zhang’s final breath.

Climbing up from the floor, Chen Xia coughed out blood and swore furiously:

“Damn the Great Death Realm!”

Dark clouds gathered in the sky with crackling thunder.

The downpour and lightning strikes served perhaps as the story’s curtain call.