Immortal Travel of Longevity

By the window, the young Daoist choked back his sobs, tears streaming down his face.

It was as if, in a single instant, the young Daoist had finally understood.

Daoist Fuyun gently patted his disciple's head. "Didn't I tell you..."

"A man doesn't shed tears so easily."

The master patted his head, over and over.

The strength he once used to discipline the boy was long gone.

"Master, Master..."

The young Daoist kept calling out, but couldn't form any other words. He merely wept, his voice choked by tears.

Standing to the side, Tong Zhihuan was lost in thought.

He still remembered...

How he had knelt by the window just like this young Daoist, holding the old Daoist's hand.

He had hated his own incompetence so fiercely then. He had studied medicine for decades and saved countless lives, yet he had never felt so utterly powerless.

His feelings back then had been exactly the same as the young Daoist's were now.

Tong Zhihuan stepped forward. He looked at Daoist Fuyun and said, "Daoist, let me try one more time."

Daoist Fuyun paused, then shook his head.

But the physician simply said, "As a healer, I have never believed in fate!"

He opened his medical bag and laid out a spread of Silver Needles.

Tong Zhihuan raised two fingers. His gaze hardened as he called out, "I offer my respects and request Mister's sword! May the Immortal Sword answer!"

As his words faded, the sword gripped by the temple's Zhenwu Divine Statue gave a faint tremble.

The blade swept into the room and hovered right in front of Daoist Fuyun.

Tong Zhihuan's face was utterly solemn. He formed a hand seal and unleashed his Magical Power without reserve. Hundreds of streams of energy surged into the Silver Needles and flowed straight into the Daoist's limbs and bones.

Seeing this, Daoist Fuyun sighed. "Mister Tong, my fate is already sealed. Why go to such lengths? Why must you do this..."

Tong Zhihuan offered no answer.

He wanted to give the late Daoist a proper answer. He wanted to give himself an answer, too. And he did it for the young Daoist kneeling by the window—for the hope in the boy's eyes, and for his heart-wrenching grief...

"BOOM!!!"

The sky abruptly darkened.

Dark clouds gathered, and in the blink of an eye, Liuyun Temple was engulfed by a torrential thunderstorm.

A sudden clap of thunder shattered the sky!

"I request the Immortal Sword!" Tong Zhihuan roared.

Instantly, the Immortal Sword shot backward out of the room. It transformed into a streak of brilliant light, flying straight up to meet the descending thunder tribulation.

Down at the foot of Liuyun Temple.

The underworld deputies and the City God had already arrived.

After so many years, Hong Sancai had returned to the foot of this mountain once again.

He gazed up at the peak, his emotions in turmoil.

Seeing the rolling heavenly thunder, he hesitated, his footsteps faltering.

As the City God, it was his duty to stop such a massive act of defiance against heaven. Yet witnessing it now, he simply stopped in his tracks.

An underworld deputy beside him offered a quiet reminder. "Lord City God, it is almost time."

Hong Sancai raised a hand. "Wait a little longer. Just a little longer..."

Lying in his bed inside the temple, Daoist Fuyun felt a jolt of alarm. "I am nothing but a rotting log! I am not worth Mister Tong going to such lengths! Please, draw back your Divine Abilities at once..."

But locked down by the Silver Needles, he couldn't put up the slightest resistance.

Tong Zhihuan looked at Daoist Fuyun with a complicated expression. "I am doing this for you, Daoist, and also for myself. Please let me see it through."

With that, Tong Zhihuan knelt and bowed his head to the floor.

Daoist Fuyun's expression faltered. In a daze, he seemed to finally understand.

He let out a long breath and said nothing more.

The Immortal Sword clashed against the thunder tribulation.

As Tong Zhihuan stood up, he applied the needles once more.

The Silver Needles danced in his hands. In the blink of an eye, every acupoint on Daoist Fuyun's body was forced open.

The young Daoist waited anxiously by the side, his heart filled with dread.

"BOOM!"

Outside the temple, thunder roared.

The Immortal Sword held back the thunder tribulation.

But in the end, the Immortal Sword had lost something vital over the years. It no longer possessed its original might. The moment the Heavenly Tribulation struck down, cracks spiderwebbed across the blade. It was an old relic of a bygone era, too fragile to endure such torment.

The backlash of the thunder tribulation slammed right into Tong Zhihuan.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He suddenly tasted a sweet metallic tang in his throat, but he forced the blood back down.

Tong Zhihuan was fiercely stubborn in this moment.

Just as he had been in his youth.

...

Three bolts of the thunder tribulation crashed down from the sky in rapid succession.

Battered by the thunder tribulation, the Immortal Sword was beaten completely out of shape. Its blade was covered in fractures, held together only by the meager dregs of its remaining Sword Qi.

Eventually, the heavy rain began to fade.

The thunderclouds in the sky slowly parted, and a single ray of sunlight fell upon the Mortal World.

At the foot of the mountain.

Hong Sancai raised his head once more.

From the temple above, he heard the sound of bitter laughter echoing down.

"Hehehe..."

Before long, the somewhat disheveled physician walked down the mountain path.

He laughed bitterly. The raw emotion carried in that laughter was enough to unsettle the heart of anyone who heard it.

"Hehehe..."

The physician laughed, yet tears streamed from his eyes.

A dead silence fell over heaven and earth.

It was as if this physician's bitter laughter was the only sound left in the world.

It was a mockery of heaven's will, a curse cast upon the world, and yet, at the same time, it was a concession to utter helplessness.

The physician brushed past Hong Sancai without so much as a glance, walking quietly away.

Hong Sancai remained silent, turning to look back at him.

He saw only the man's desolate silhouette...

The Immortal Sword plummeted from the sky and crashed into the temple.

In the blink of an eye, it shattered into fragments that scattered across the courtyard.

The Immortal Sword of a generation had ultimately fallen into the mortal dust.

But for the Immortal Sword, perhaps this was its finest resting place. After endless struggles and the ebb and flow of the tides, it, too, had grown old.

...

In front of Qiuyue Fang.

Tao'er stood holding Nianyi, gazing into the distance.

A desolate figure soon emerged from the mountain.

Tong Nianyi didn't fuss or cry. She stared at the man, recognizing at a glance that this broken figure was her father.

Yet, no matter how she looked at him, he didn't seem like her father anymore.

In Tong Nianyi's memories, her father had always kept his head held high. He had never looked so thoroughly defeated.

Seeing him, inexplicable tears welled up in Tao'er's eyes.

Holding Nianyi, she stepped forward.

Tong Zhihuan snapped out of his daze and pulled his wife and child into a tight embrace.

"Tao'er... Tao'er..."

Tong Zhihuan murmured, his voice choked with sobs.

Tao'er gently patted his back, soothing him.

Choking on his tears, Tong Zhihuan said, "I was wrong... I was wrong..."

Human power ultimately had its limits. In the end, a mortal could not outshine the sun and the moon.

Tao'er let out a soft sigh and murmured gently, "You fool."

Tong Zhihuan held his family tightly.

Tong Nianyi stood off to the side, suddenly feeling quite out of place.

She blinked. At her young age, she couldn't understand what this meant, let alone why her father was so incredibly heartbroken.

She had never seen him like this before.

Tao'er understood. She knew that Tong Zhihuan had never been able to overcome that hurdle in his heart.

More than the regrets of his youth, what truly tormented him was the fact that the helplessness he felt as a boy was still the exact same helplessness he felt today.

He simply hated his own lack of strength.

Those who dwelled beneath the heavens were, in the end, incapable of defying heaven to rewrite fate.

"Husband, you have already done your best. Let's go home... Let's go home..."

.

.

On that day, the old Daoist who had meditated in Liuyun Temple for so many years finally passed away.

Even though a cultivator had willingly burned his own vitality to defy heaven and rewrite his fate.

He still failed to change that destiny.

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