hotmtlnovel Chapter 26 Leaving the Wuhou Sect
Chapter 26 Leaving the Wuhou Sect
The fire of the elixir was not ignited.
He couldn't overcome the obstacle of his inner demons.
If his father and the two elders hadn't forcibly pulled him out of the inner realm, he would have been completely lost within it by now.
"Father."
Zhuge Yan's voice was so hoarse that it was almost impossible to recognize him speaking.
"I failed."
Zhuge Duan remained silent for a long time.
He didn't say "It's okay," he didn't say "Come again next time," and he didn't say anything comforting.
For the first time in years, he offered no words of encouragement or blame.
He simply looked at his son with a deep and complex gaze.
There was heartache and regret in his eyes, but more than anything, there was a silent worry.
He saw what Zhuge Yan saw in the inner vision; it was no ordinary inner demon.
The abyss that even these old guys working together could barely pull out of was not greed, not delusion, and certainly not any kind of inner demon that ordinary sorcerers would encounter.
Although Zhuge Duan did not see the full picture of the problem with his own eyes, he clearly felt its weight the moment his true qi entered his inner vision.
He didn't know where the question came from, but he knew he couldn't answer his son's question.
Not only him, but no one from the Wuhou faction could answer that question!
Zhuge Zhong took a few long breaths, took out a small porcelain bottle from his bosom, poured out three dark red pills, took one himself, and handed the remaining two to Zhuge Ji and Zhuge Duan.
The Hemostatic and Rejuvenating Pill is a life-saving medicine refined by the Wuhou School.
Zhuge Duan took the pill, but did not take it immediately. Instead, he rubbed it between his fingertips twice.
"The inheritance of the Samadhi True Fire has failed."
He calmly stated this conclusion.
"Although we were only one step away from the final step of the alchemical fire, failure is failure."
Zhuge Yan knelt on the Bagua diagram, his head bowed.
Blood was still seeping from his seven orifices, and the bloodstains on his Taoist robe were spreading outwards inch by inch.
Then he straightened his back and slowly stood up.
His movements were slow; the pain in his body made every moment he stood up feel like he was fighting against a mountain.
But Zhuge Yan finally stood up straight. He raised his sleeve, wiped the blood off his face haphazardly, and then bowed deeply to the three elders.
"Thank you, Father, and thank you, Elders, for saving my life."
Zhuge Yan knew very well that if these three elders hadn't risked serious injury to pull him out of his inner world, he would probably have been ruined by the Samadhi True Fire.
Zhuge Duan stared at the bloodstain on his son's face, which hadn't been wiped clean, and remained silent for a long time.
Then he reached out and handed over the hemostatic and restorative pill in his hand.
"Go back and recover first. Come find me again once you've healed."
"Yes."
Zhuge Yan accepted the pill with both hands, tilted his head back, and swallowed it.
The bitterness spreads from the back of the tongue to the throat, carrying the distinctive fishy and cool taste of Sanguisorba officinalis and dragon's blood.
He bowed to the three elders again, then turned and walked toward the stone door of the alchemy room.
Watching Zhuge Yan's receding figure, Zhuge Ji let out a long sigh.
"I didn't expect even Yan'er to fail. Is the Samadhi True Fire really that difficult to cultivate?"
"Since this Samadhi True Fire was left by our ancestors, it is naturally not impossible to cultivate. It's just that we, their unworthy descendants, are far from reaching even one ten-thousandth of our ancestors' level."
"But if even Yan'er can't do it, then wouldn't all the younger disciples of our Martial Marquis Sect have no hope of inheriting the throne?"
"If you ask me, Yan'er is only twelve years old now. Even if he is exceptionally talented and has mastered all four magic arts at a young age, he is still too young."
It's indeed asking too much of him to master the Samadhi Fire right now.
Listening to the two elders' discussion, Zhuge Duan also spoke with a solemn expression:
"Elders, what did you see in Yan'er's inner vision just now?"
"The sky collapsed and the earth caved in, as if the end of the world had arrived."
"The inner world reflects a person's mental state, but why is Yan'er's inner world like that?"
Upon hearing this, Zhuge Ji and Zhuge Zhong exchanged a glance and fell silent.
"Yan'er is usually quiet and has always kept his true self hidden."
Sometimes I feel that this child gives off a somewhat... ethereal feeling?
Even though he's standing right in front of you, you always feel like he doesn't exist.
Zhuge Duan didn't speak, but turned his head to look again in the direction Zhuge Yan had left, silently thinking to himself:
"Yan'er, what secrets are hidden in your heart...?"
-----------------
Two months later.
Autumn comes slowly in Sichuan. The bamboo forest on the back mountain is still green, but the peach leaves have already begun to turn yellow.
The mountain stream was half the depth of summer water, revealing smooth, white stones on both banks.
Zhuge Yan stood in the west wing, folded a few changes of clothes, and put them into a worn-out rattan bag.
He moved slowly, pausing briefly after each item he folded, as if to confirm whether he really needed to bring it along.
He put away the half-open deduction diagram on the table, tucked it into the Book of Changes, and placed it on the same page as the record he had written three years ago.
Two months of recuperation allowed his body to recover about 70-80% of the damage caused by the backlash from the Samadhi Fire.
The bloodstains on his face had long since disappeared, and the dark red marks left by the bleeding from his seven orifices had been washed away little by little by time. Only a few extremely thin blood vessels remained faintly on the inner corners of his eyes, which could not be seen at all unless you looked closely.
But the crack in the inner vision has not been completely healed; the inner demon has not disappeared, it has only temporarily subsided.
The shadow of those crimson eyes still lingered in a corner deep within the interior, silently waiting for him to give an answer.
But Zhuge Yan can't give it to him, at least not now.
He stuffed the cloth bag into his pouch, then slung the bag over his shoulder, closed the door, and headed towards his ancestral home.
Before leaving, he had to see his father.
Inside the ancestral home, Zhuge Duan sat behind his desk, an open clan affairs book laid out in front of him, his pen resting on the inkstone, the ink already half dry.
He looked thinner than he had two months ago. The amount of gray hair at his temples hadn't increased, but the wrinkles on his face had deepened.
It's not that he's getting old; it's just that he's been very busy with clan affairs these past two months and has hardly had any rest.
Zhuge Yan stood in front of the desk, and the father and son remained silent for a long time, separated by the desk.
"Has the injury healed?"
Zhuge Duan spoke first, glancing at the baggage on Zhuge Yan's back, but did not rush to ask questions.
"alright."
"You came to see me today, is there something you need?"
Zhuge Yan remained silent for a moment.
This was the first time in two months that he had spoken face-to-face with his father, and it was the final decision he made after tossing and turning on his sickbed for sixty days and nights.
"Father, I need to leave the Wuhou Sect for a while."