Immortal Travel of Longevity

"What courage."

Tu Hu remarked, but his tone shifted as he shook his head. "But what use is it? Out of everyone here, which of them could you possibly defeat?"

Shangguan Ningjing replied, "They always say mortals are ultimately just mortals, forever unable to rival the demons and monsters of this world. But to me, there are always exceptions in the mortal world. How will I know if I don't try?"

The Little Beggar looked at him and said, "Brother Shangguan, why ask for trouble?"

"It's not exactly asking for trouble."

Shangguan Ningjing laughed. "At the very least, I cannot disgrace my sword."

"Stubborn," the Little Beggar muttered, shaking his head. He said no more.

Stubborn people rarely met a good end.

The Little Beggar paused. "Let me be the one, lest you get beaten to death. Consider it a good deed on my part."

"Please."

The Little Beggar stepped forward and raised his hand. "One move. You go first, or else you won't even get the chance to swing your sword."

"Pardon my offense, then."

Shangguan Ningjing raised his sword. With his blood vigor surging, the blade transformed into a dazzling arc as he slashed forward.

The Little Beggar raised a hand and casually waved it outward.

Shangguan Ningjing froze. A wave of palm force hit him head-on, sending his hair flying wildly.

It happened in a mere instant.

That palm strike utterly scattered the blood vigor around his body, reducing his sword qi to nothingness along with it.

Sometimes, ideas were just ideas, and reality was an entirely different matter.

The sword-wielding swordsmen of the jianghu were ultimately still mortals. Even with peerless talent, they could not transcend that label. Before such inhuman might, they were just as fragile, unable to withstand a single blow.

It was laughable.

Whether it was his flawed understanding of the world or his sheer courage in drawing his sword, it all looked completely laughable to the onlookers.

But Shangguan Ningjing did not feel that way.

He merely believed he had not yet reached the necessary level. He firmly maintained that martial artists would eventually have a chance to rival these extraordinary beings; he was simply lacking something right now.

Swordsmen were stubborn creatures.

"Pfft..."

A mouthful of blood sprayed out.

Shangguan Ningjing's grip loosened, and his sword plummeted straight down.

"Little Brother Shangguan!"

The Old Ox cried out in alarm. With quick reflexes, he caught the young man, preventing him from falling into the lake along with his sword.

Shangguan Ningjing parted his lips and coughed up more blood. He gasped heavily, but the blood welling in his throat choked off his breath.

The Old Ox hurriedly turned him over.

Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his airway finally cleared.

Shangguan Ningjing took several ragged breaths. He wasn't going to die, but he was severely injured. Right now, he couldn't muster an ounce of strength; it felt as if every bone in his body had been shattered.

Seeing this, Zhu Wuneng sneered. "You bald donkey really are soft-hearted."

If he had been the one to strike, the man wouldn't even have any bones left by now.

The Little Beggar replied, "I do not cultivate Buddhism, nor am I a bald donkey. Since you have so much to say, why don't you take two palm strikes from me?"

Zhu Wuneng retorted, "A bald donkey is a bald donkey. You use the skills of the Buddhist Faction, yet refuse to admit you belong to them. Even my skin isn't as thick as yours!"

Upon hearing this, the lotus flower mark on the Little Beggar's brow began to flicker, as if he were ready to attack.

Hu Shilan looked at them and said, "Do you two really want to cause more complications?"

The Little Beggar paused. He glanced at Hu Shilan, his expression looking somewhat defiant, but he muttered, "You're strong. I can't beat you."

With that, he dropped the matter.

The Little Beggar knew when to back down. He would never force his way into a fight he couldn't win.

Zhu Wuneng, however, was unafraid. He clamored, "What does it have to do with you? Giving you a bit of face is already thinking highly of you, yet you dare to order me around?"

Hu Shilan simply looked at him.

Zhu Wuneng frowned. "What are you looking at? Don't think I'm afraid of you!"

Hu Shilan raised her hand, bringing two fingers together. Instantly, an ice spike materialized in front of her, exuding a terrifying chill.

Zhu Wuneng's heart jolted in alarm, and he hurriedly shrank back.

"What are you hiding from?" Hu Shilan asked. "Weren't you shouting so fiercely just a moment ago?"

Zhu Wuneng glared at her. "I just despise people like you who use their strength to bully the weak."

Hu Shilan curled her fingers, preparing to strike.

"Wait, wait, wait!"

Zhu Wuneng hurriedly waved his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean that, I didn't mean that..."

"A gentleman uses his words, not his fists! A gentleman uses his words, not his fists!"

"Swish!"

The ice spike suddenly shot forward.

Zhu Wuneng instantly jerked aside in panic.

The ice spike grazed right past his cheek, making the fat on his face jiggle.

Terrified, Zhu Wuneng didn't dare to move, trembling uncontrollably.

Hu Shilan merely stated in a calm voice, "Do not let it happen again."

Zhu Wuneng let out a sigh of relief, no longer daring to spit out any foul remarks.

Beside them, the Little Beggar clutched his stomach with laughter, pointing at Zhu Wuneng and mocking him for truly living up to his name of "Wuneng"—incompetent.

Zhu Wuneng barked back, "Bald donkey, if you laugh again, I'll knock all your teeth out!"

"Care to try?" the Little Beggar challenged.

Seeing that they were about to start bickering again, Hu Shilan immediately shot them a fierce frown.

The Little Beggar and Zhu Wuneng exchanged a glare. Though neither could stand the sight of the other, they didn't push their luck, each turning his head away in a huff.

Shangguan Ningjing listened to the sounds of their bickering beside him.

He realized that he had been completely forgotten in the blink of an eye.

It seemed a martial artist like him, who couldn't even withstand a single move, was completely unworthy of their attention. No one cared whether he lived or died.

"Cough, cough..."

Shangguan Ningjing's mind slowly cleared a bit.

The Old Ox asked, "Are you alright?"

Shangguan Ningjing waved a hand feebly. "I'll be taking my leave..."

"Leave?"

The Old Ox was taken aback. "In your state... how are you going to leave?"

Shangguan Ningjing did not answer. With a bit of effort, he pushed away from the Old Ox, then rolled off the edge and plummeted straight toward the lake below.

"Splash."

"Little Brother Shangguan?!"

The Old Ox cried out in shock and was about to dive in to save him.

But a moment later, he saw Shangguan Ningjing surface in the lake. Dragging his aching, battered body, the swordsman slowly swam toward the shore, inch by inch.

His face was deathly pale, but he never stopped moving.

The Old Ox opened his mouth, completely stunned.

Upon the shore of the lake.

Ruyi watched the scene unfold and paused.

She turned to Mister Chen, her gaze seemingly asking a question.

Chen Changsheng shook his head and said, "There is no need to help him. He can make it to the shore himself."

Ruyi pursed her lips. "He looks so miserable..."

Mo Yuan laughed upon hearing this. "He probably doesn't care for your sympathy."

Ruyi naturally understood why Brother Mo would say such a thing.

It was not meant as sarcasm. Having wandered the jianghu for years, she had met countless people. She had seen more than enough men like Shangguan Ningjing; they were the type who would rather starve or exhaust themselves to death than ever bow their heads.

Some called such people fools, insisting that only by enduring temporary humiliation could one ever rise again. Yet others agreed with their stubbornness, believing that as long as a person lived in this world, they must never discard their dignity and sense of self. That was the very foundation of being human.

Shangguan Ningjing finally dragged himself out of the water and onto the shore.

"Cough, cough..."

He choked up a few mouthfuls of water, but quickly regained his breath.

Soaked to the bone, he looked like a stray dog without a home. Taking a heavy step, he limped away.

As for his sword, it remained resting at the bottom of the lake.

Yet within his desolate gaze, there was still an unyielding perseverance.

Perhaps one day, he would return here to retrieve the sword he had left behind at the bottom of the lake.

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