Chapter Seventy-Five: Farewell and Revenge

“Just a corpse. Even a Supreme Immortal could do nothing to bring him back.” The words of Xue Wenyang’s father, the renowned physician Xue Hongtang, completely extinguished all hope among the students of Moonwashing Academy.

Xue Hongtang had raced to Yangzhou from Gaoyou after receiving an urgent letter from his only son, intent on saving Yu Lang. Yet despite his efforts, even this famed national physician was powerless—there was nothing he could do.

Red Silk suddenly collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness entirely. From the day she found Yu Lang sleeping in his study, she had tended to him for seven days and nights without rest. Though his breath had ceased, she refused to believe Yu Lang was truly gone. Now, Xue Hongtang’s verdict shattered the fragile world she’d clung to.

Tears glimmered in Xue Wenyang’s eyes as he pleaded with his father, unreasonable in his grief, “Save Yu Lang, please! You must have a way!”

“Enough nonsense! After all these years learning medicine with me, have you forgotten your basics? No breath, no pulse, no heartbeat—he’s dead. How could you not know that? Clearly, you’ve learned nothing at Moonwashing Academy these years!” Annoyed by his son's stubbornness, Xue Hongtang swept his sleeves and departed. For a physician, nothing was more taboo than being called to treat a hopeless case—it would only tarnish his reputation. Besides, this person was long gone.

“Tiger, what now?” asked Li Da Hu, usually calm in crisis and now the pillar for the group.

“We bury him.” Li Da Hu made the decision.

The funeral procession set out from Ji Xian Lane, winding its way solemnly toward the outskirts of the city. Progress was slow; Yu Lang’s body was astonishingly heavy, heavier than iron, even in death. Li Da Hu, Yang Xu, Xue Wenyang, and Obaba struggled to bear the coffin, inching forward step by step.

Zhang Chengxing clung to the coffin, wailing, “Brother Lang, it’s all my fault for being loose-tongued. Our last meeting, I made you unhappy. Don’t be lonely on the road to the underworld—your brothers are with you.”

The coffin was already heavy, and with Zhang Chengxing sprawled atop it, pounding the lid, the four bearers could only grumble in misery.

“Whose funeral is this? Why are all the mourners so young?”

“Oh, it’s the Yu family from Ji Xian Lane. There was only one child left, and now he’s gone—such a tragedy.”

“That’s right. I heard Yu Lang from the Yu family was a standout at Moonwashing Academy. Everyone thought he’d soar to greatness, but who would’ve guessed he’d rot away in this gutter.”

“In my opinion, it’s best to live life peacefully, without chasing after dramas and upheavals. In the end, it all comes to nothing.”

The residents of Yangzhou murmured their regrets at the untimely death of Yu Lang.

A young man, sipping tea by the roadside, furrowed his brow upon hearing the deceased was Yu Lang.

“Ancestor, it looks like Yu Lang is really dead. Should we still seek revenge?” The youth addressed as ‘Ancestor’ was Zhu Yiming, grandson of the Old Ancestor of the Yellow River, who bore deep hatred for Yu Lang since the Moonwashing Academy’s sealed mountain competition three years ago. Because of Yu Lang, the Old Ancestor lost his mount, severed his own arm, and personally destroyed Zhu Yiming’s dantian.

Yet, after enduring such humiliation, Zhu Yiming transformed. He rebuilt his dantian and began anew, learning the Sword Intent of the Yellow River from his grandfather. He became a new man, inheriting the Yellow River Sword Seal at just twenty, entering the Middle Profound Realm, and surpassing even the students of Moonwashing Academy.

Unfortunately, while his cultivation soared, his narrow-mindedness remained. His hatred for Yu Lang grew year by year, festering into a heart demon. To advance to the Upper Profound Realm, he would have to cut down this demon first.

Previously, with Chen Wuning holding sway at Moonwashing Academy, Zhu Yiming dared not act. But recently, he learned through his informants that Chen Wuning had been gravely injured and dared not step outside the academy. Not wanting to miss this golden opportunity, Zhu Yiming brought his most trusted men to Yangzhou to seek revenge.

“Wait. This man is cunning; perhaps he’s faked his death to evade his enemies. Even if he’s dead, I’ll grind his bones to ash to quell my heart demon.” Zhu Yiming knew Yu Lang well, having watched his every move for years. Every duel, every stratagem—he understood them all.

His gaze drifted to Zhang Chengxing, who was beating the coffin and crying, a shadow flickering in his expression: “Yingying, how am I inferior to this coarse fellow?”

His other goal in returning was to drink Huang Ying’s wedding wine. When his dantian was ruined, he’d lost all hope and almost drowned himself, but Huang Ying gave him a lucky charm and encouraged him to start anew.

From then on, Huang Ying became like a goddess in Zhu Yiming’s heart; whenever his cultivation reached a bottleneck and torment threatened to overwhelm him, the memory of her smile was his greatest motivation—alongside his thirst for vengeance against Yu Lang. Now Huang Ying was about to marry Zhang Chengxing, and Zhu Yiming knew he had no hope with her, but wished only to attend the wedding. Though he looked down on Zhang Chengxing, he never wished him harm; he simply hoped Huang Ying would find happiness.

Love and hate intertwined. Despite the dangers of this journey to Yangzhou and risk of severing ties with his ancestor, Zhu Yiming came anyway.

He placed his right hand on the blade of the River Dust Sword and quietly ordered, “Once the funeral procession leaves the city gate and reaches the Emerald Mound three miles south, we act. I want to split open his coffin myself and see if he’s dead or alive. If he’s dead, I’ll make him die again. If he’s alive, I’ll make him wish he’d died sooner!”

The followers of the Yellow River cult nodded in agreement, deeply respecting the decisive young ancestor.

Emerald Mound was the site of Yangzhou’s dragon energy. The brothers of the Wave Camp had pooled their funds to purchase a plot here for Yu Lang’s burial—a final act of devotion.

Two dark clouds collided overhead, lightning crackled, and torrential rain poured down.

The funeral procession numbered over fifty, all students of Moonwashing Academy, who released their inner energy to shield from the rain, forming a spectacular protective dome.

For cautious cultivators, expending inner energy to avoid rain was a foolish choice—the effect was beautiful, but quickly drained their reserves. Those in the lower three realms could barely sustain it for long. Zhu Yiming was grateful for the timely rain; with more than fifty students of Moonwashing Academy blocking his way, he would have faced considerable resistance, but now he saw an opportunity sent by heaven. It seemed even fate was against Yu Lang. Zhu Yiming raised his right hand, ready to give the signal.

A single Middle Profound Realm cultivator and thirty Upper Void cultivators, all prepared and intent on ambush—Zhu Yiming was confident their strength far outclassed the Moonwashing students.

Suddenly, a shout echoed from the distant sky, startling Zhu Yiming into a shudder.

“Yu Lang, get out here and die for me!”

The voice lingered in the heavens, but the man had already arrived at the coffin.

His speed surpassed sound.

Dressed in a lake-blue robe, Li Bi’s expression was vexed. A plain peachwood sword hung at his back, his whole presence like a banished immortal fallen to the mortal world.

Terrified, Zhu Yiming buried his face in the grass, ceased all inner energy flow, and curled into a ball. Compared to Chen Wuning of Moonwashing Academy, he feared this outstanding young genius of the Great Tang even more.