While Zhang Xiaoliu was burning paper offerings, another person arrived. The Old City God stood beside Chen Changsheng and said, “Life, aging, sickness, and death are normal things. Why bother too much, sir?” Chen Changsheng turned to look at the Old City God and replied, “Since we walk in the Mortal World, we naturally get caught in its dust.” Hearing this, the Old City God paused. The source of thɪs content is novel_fіre.net “Mr. Chen gets caught in Mortal World dust too?” Chen Changsheng looked at the Old City God. “Why shouldn’t I?” The Old City God’s heart felt heavy. Suddenly, he understood why Immortals rarely walked among mortals. It was probably because this Mortal World dust was too hard to bear. He snapped out of his thoughts and continued, “Zhang Wudi has already gone for Rebirth. You needn’t worry so much, sir.” “You are too polite.” The Old City God said, “Meeting you, sir, was his Fortune Blessing in this life.” “Perhaps,” Chen Changsheng murmured. When the incense and candles had burned down, Chen Changsheng left that place. After seeing Chen Changsheng off, the Old City God naturally returned to his City God Temple. The door of the tavern was still open. Zhang Xiaoliu sat inside, just like Zhang Wudi had all those years ago, sitting in that very spot. After that, there would be passing springs, summers, autumns, and winters once again. Chen Changsheng walked up those steps, returning step by step to the Flowing Cloud Temple. Chang Shan had left, apparently descending the mountain that very morning. When Chen Changsheng pushed the door open and entered the Taoist Temple, the cheerful sounds and laughter of past days were gone. The peach tree in the corner of the courtyard rustled under the summer wind. The peaches on the branches swayed, and fallen leaves lay scattered in the courtyard, no one bothering to sweep them. Xuan Huang sat at the stone table under the peach tree, chin propped on his hand, his gaze unfocused, seemingly lost in thought. Chen Changsheng walked over and sat down. Xuan Huang slowly came back to himself and looked at his teacher. “Teacher, you’re back.” “What are you thinking about?” Chen Changsheng asked. “Xuan Huang wasn’t thinking of anything,” he replied. “Just… it takes a little getting used to.” This silence replacing the usual bustle of the Taoist Temple, this loneliness, made Xuan Huang feel as if he himself had grown much older. Chen Changsheng didn’t press the question. Instead, he said, “Last night I went to Shangjing City. I saw Xuan Tian.” “Senior Brother Xuan Tian?” Chen Changsheng said, “Amidst the countless palaces of the Imperial Palace, only your Senior Brother’s Directorate of Celestial Observation stands one floor taller than the main hall.” “The Directorate of Celestial Observation… the Directorate of Celestial Observation…” Xuan Huang reacted. “Is Senior Brother Xuan Tian the Astrology Overseer now?” Chen Changsheng nodded. “The current Emperor is obsessed with immortality. Your Senior Brother is quite clever; his mastery of Alchemy is superb. He became the Astrology Overseer.” “Alchemy?” Xuan Huang frowned. “Real Immortal pills, or…” Chen Changsheng looked at him. “What do you think?” Xuan Huang froze. His lips parted, but no words came out for a long moment. A sigh escaped him. “Senior Brother has confused himself.” Chen Changsheng shook his head. “He is not confused. He knows very well what he wants—wealth and honor—and he has indeed obtained it.” Xuan Huang looked into the distance. “When people do good, fortune may not arrive immediately, but disaster has already moved away. When people do evil, disaster may not arrive immediately, but fortune has already moved away. Senior Brother is likely heading for trouble.” 😓😓😓Golden Novel translates the best Chinese web novels for you!😓😓😓 “It was his own choice.” Chen Changsheng said, “He was destined to face a calamity in his fate. It was only a matter of time.” Xuan Huang shook his head helplessly. He lowered his head. “Let him go his own way.” That night, heavy rain poured down. Xuan Huang retired to his room early, seeming upset after the disciples had left. Torrential rain fell, rustling as it hit the peach tree in the courtyard. Chen Changsheng stood beneath the eaves holding a scroll. He gazed at the rain, thinking perhaps even Heaven could not bear this sight and sent down the storm, bringing a touch of life back to the Taoist Temple. Old Man Zhang was gone. The temple was no longer lively. Chen Changsheng’s heart was troubled. He knew he could easily soothe these emotions within himself, but he wasn’t willing to. The Seven Emotions and Six Desires are all gifts. How could one cast them aside? Chen Changsheng set the book down. He raised his hand and summoned an oil lamp from the Library Pavilion, placing it on the eaves. He lifted his hand again, and a longsword appeared in it. He extended a finger and gently flicked the blade. The sword sang with a crisp, clear sound. Chen Changsheng grasped the sword and walked out into the rain. He swung the blade, swirling his sword, drawing cold glints one after another in the rainy night. The sword tip parted the rain falling onto the mortal earth. For the first time, rainwater dampened his robe. The sword held much dissatisfaction, mingling with his teacher’s emotions as it lashed out. As the sword moved, his feet splashed water across the ground. Chen Changsheng’s movements were incredibly swift. His figure blurred across the courtyard. The sword in his hand seemed beyond a weapon of the Mortal World. A figure suddenly alighted at the temple entrance. Within the darkness, a pair of eyes seemed to peer inside the temple. The figure watching secretly from the entrance filled his heart with disbelief. His gaze fixed upon the figure dancing with the sword in the courtyard, rooting him to the spot. Chen Changsheng’s hair was soaked by the rain, but he didn’t care. This rain had come just right. It felt as if it were washing his heart clean. Amidst the storm-like Sword Techniques, the song of his blade continued unceasing. The peach tree in the courtyard seemed somewhat afraid of the sword in his teacher’s hand. It shook violently in the rainy night, and several unripe fruits fell from its branches. A strange “force” suddenly arose around Chen Changsheng. This was Sword Intent—the very thing countless Swordsmen in the Jianghu dreamed of. When a sword holds intent, only then does the Sword Way exist. And this Sword Intent of his teacher carried an intense feeling of loneliness. Within that intent, it seemed only a single person stood, surrounded by a vast rolling fog, obscuring everything. The sword tip pointed towards the ground. Water streaming down the Sword Mountain slid along the blade, gathering at the point before dripping to the ground. Chen Changsheng was drenched. He let out a long exhale and looked up. Raindrops fell into his eyes, as if dripping the world’s murkiness right into them. He was murky himself, not clear and bright. Chen Changsheng raised the sword in his hand and flicked the blade once more. “It’s time to give you a name.” He thought for a moment, gaze momentarily caught by the endless rain falling from the sky. Coming back to himself, Chen Changsheng looked at the sword and said, “I’ll call you Listening to Rain.” He sheathed the sword and turned to return to his Library Pavilion. But he stopped, sensing something, and looked towards the temple gate. The main gate was open. Strangely, in Chen Changsheng’s sight, someone was standing at the entrance. To be exact, the standing figure at the gate wasn’t human! The body of a man, the head of a dragon! A pair of dragon horns stood atop its head. The gaze held the true might of a True Dragon. Chen Changsheng’s heart jolted violently. It felt like facing a powerful enemy. The Old Dragon King frowned, meeting Chen Changsheng’s gaze. Seeing his own reflection unbelievably clear in Chen Changsheng’s eyes, he reacted with a start. “You can actually see this Old Master?” Chen Changsheng froze inside. He recognized the origin of the figure before him. If he wasn’t mistaken… This was the Old Dragon King from the Tongtian River!