Master, Long Time No See

Peach Blossom Village.

The village chief looked at the three returning figures with astonishment.

Chu Xingchen was draped in a pristine kasaya, tossing a relic in his left hand while twirling a willow jade scepter in his right. Li Yingling struggled to suppress a smile as she observed her master’s peculiar attire. Only Yuan Kong trailed behind them, his expression gloomy.

For a moment, the village chief felt dazed. Had he mistaken the true Buddha’s disciple?

But as the trio approached, he sighed and dismissed his doubts, rising to greet them.

"Congratulations," the chief said, clasping his hands.

Chu Xingchen gave a slight nod, offering no further words. He merely tapped Yuan Kong’s head lightly with the willow jade scepter before leisurely walking away with Li Yingling in tow.

With this, the matter was considered resolved—save for Yuan Kong retrieving the Buddha’s heart embedded in the chief’s chest.

Whether Yuan Kong took it or not was his choice, just as saving the abbot was his decision alone.

Chu Xingchen had done all he could.

Yuan Kong understood the hint. He halted, sighed, and turned to face the village chief.

By now, the chief’s burial robes had transformed into simple coarse cloth.

Yuan Kong pressed his palms together, hesitating.

This entire world hinged on the Buddha’s heart within the chief. Removing it would mean the collapse of this realm.

Yuan Kong had known this from the start, yet now, faced with the moment, he wavered.

He couldn’t see the malice Chu Xingchen and Li Yingling perceived.

Instead, he saw pitiful commoners—forced by Chu Xingchen to labor nine hours a day, their pleas ignored as they were tossed into a vat of boiling oil, fried until golden and crisp…

Nor did Yuan Kong notice the walking corpses gradually improving. Throughout the journey, he felt only that he had wrought harm.

Thus, Chu Xingchen’s achievements held no tangible weight for him.

He knew things were improving, but not how, or in what way.

Without that sense of fulfillment, he felt no entitlement.

"Worry not," the chief said with a smile. "This realm was always an illusion—ephemeral, transient. I’ve come to understand many truths and have no regrets."

"Besides, I see the Buddha’s disciple seeks this heart to save someone, yes?"

Yuan Kong nodded faintly.

The chief chuckled. "Then why hesitate? A false thing saving a real one—what’s there to ponder?"

At these words, Yuan Kong lifted his head, pressed his palms together, and bowed slightly.

Streams of light rose from Peach Blossom Village—from the earth, the horizon, the trees, from everything.

Villagers toiling over half-built earthen houses paused. Most had regained human forms, no longer walking corpses.

The fervor in their eyes faded as the village dissolved.

They gazed sorrowfully at their hard-won homes, now vanishing once more.

They knew this time, there would be no rebuilding.

The purified river, too, dissolved into flowing light.

The tree once hung with heads now bore a swing—one villagers had truly sat upon, laughing as they swayed.

But what did it matter?

Such was the way of the world.

No one had asked if they wished to come here.

No one cared if they now wished to leave.

From beginning to end, the choice was never theirs.

Perhaps resignation was habit.

The villagers accepted all in silence.

Until the world emptied, leaving only them.

Until they, too, began to fade into light.

Yet at the last, they smiled—for themselves.

Their laughter was soft, heard only by their own ears.

Even Yuan Kong, standing closest, did not hear.

Yuzhou City.

Chu Xingchen had long stored his spoils in a spatial ring.

Li Yingling trailed behind her master, mentally tallying the gains from their journey.

Truly, it had been an eye-opening experience.

For the first time, she felt she had truly stepped onto the path of cultivation. The bizarre wonders they’d encountered far surpassed any tale—more vivid, more visceral.

The duality of Peach Blossom Village, the illusory mountains—all had left her awestruck.

Moreover, her perception of Chu Xingchen had shifted.

Her master was someone who became remarkably reliable when faced with adversity.

Li Yingling resolved then: she would train diligently upon returning!

Next time, she would shine!

She’d outdo even her master!

Yuan Kong remained dispirited, clutching a small grayish-white stone in his palm.

Noticing his expression, Chu Xingchen asked, "Still dwelling on Peach Blossom Village? Do you think you doomed them?"

Yuan Kong lowered his head. "I just haven’t fully grasped it yet."

"Very well, Great Master Yuan Kong. You return to Zen Forest Temple to save your senior brother. I’ll return to my courtyard to teach my disciple. We’ll meet again if fate allows."

Chu Xingchen shrugged. They’d reached Yuzhou City; Zen Forest Temple wasn’t far. Let Yuan Kong walk back alone.

At the crossroads, Yuan Kong turned toward the temple.

The journey had been relatively smooth.

Yet he wondered how much time had passed in the outside world.

Some mighty secret realms were said to distort time itself.

But this one shouldn’t have posed issues—the elderly sugar-painting vendor at the corner looked unchanged.

Besides, was a Transformation Spirit cultivator even considered "mighty"?

Chu Xingchen bought another sugar painting for Chen Baiqing as a homecoming gift.

With Li Yingling in tow, he arrived at the courtyard and pushed open the gate.

The first sight was Chen Baiqing seated on a stone bench, a book in hand, a small pouch of candied fruits resting beside her as always.

Hearing the gate, she looked up.

Her calm eyes lit up with joy as she sprang to her feet, rushing to embrace her master.

"Master! It’s been so long!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"So long? How many days was I gone?"

Chen Baiqing tilted her head. "Thirteen whole days!"

Li Xingtian emerged from the side room, relieved to see his master return unscathed.

A faint smile touched his lips. Three years of cultivation once felt like the blink of an eye, yet now…

He clasped his hands. "It’s been a while, Master."

Chu Xingchen stuffed the sugar painting into Chen Baiqing’s mouth, ruffled her hair, then turned to his ever-reliable second disciple.

"How goes the sect’s construction?" he asked cheerfully.

Li Xingtian froze. After a long pause, he managed only:

"Uh…"

Chu Xingchen tilted his head, eyeing this unfilial disciple.