When the unique shimmer and weightlessness of the spatial teleportation array faded like the ebbing tide, Ye Chen’s boots had already touched solid ground.
The buzzing of circulating spiritual energy was left behind, replaced by a rush of noise mixed with the scents of cooking smoke, spices, and the myriad auras of living beings.
Zixiao City.
This massive mortal city, born alongside the Zixiao Sword Sect, now revealed itself before Ye Chen in its most vibrant form.
Unlike the cool spiritual energy within the sect, the air here was warm and thick, filled with the taste of mortal life.
The Inner Sect Disciple Robe on his body stood out among the bustling crowd.
The ancient sword and cloud patterns on the robe, imbued with special spiritual power, were the unmistakable insignia of the Zixiao Sword Sect.
Whether it was a peddler carrying goods or a wealthy merchant in a luxurious carriage, anyone who caught sight of him instinctively stepped aside.
The once crowded street parted naturally before him, forming a path.
Within those gazes was a mixture of reverence, curiosity, and a faint, hidden fear of transcendent power.
Ye Chen’s pace remained steady and unhurried.
He deliberately suppressed his aura, not releasing even a trace, moving like an ordinary passerby.
Yet, the robe itself was an invisible barrier, separating him from this world.
“A layer of skin, an identity…”
He thought to himself.
But this was not his wish.
He had wanted to blend in like a speck of dust, quietly investigating the Lin Residence matters.
But the warning of the Task Hall Elder still echoed in his ears—
“Sect disciples outside, every action represents the sect.”
This robe was both a shackle and a token of unhindered passage.
He ignored the whispers and the glances that darted away before meeting his eyes.
The emotional ripples of these mortals were like breezes skimming across a lake—creating only slight ripples.
Following the guidance of the Commission Jade Slip given by the elder, tracing the faint spiritual energy within, he crossed three streets and passed by a bustling Chenghuang Temple, finally stopping before a vermilion-lacquered gate.
Lin Residence.
Two mighty stone lions flanked the entrance, bronze rings in their mouths gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Compared to the Ye family estate in Qingyang City, this place was several times more imposing.
Every detail proclaimed the owner’s powerful status in the mortal world.
Two guards at the gate stood tall and sturdy, Folk Warriors trained in External Martial Arts.
Their eyes, sharp as blades, scrutinized every passerby—until they saw Ye Chen’s robe.
Sharpness instantly gave way to shock, then transformed into deep respect.
“Imm… Immortal Master!”
One of them bowed hastily, his voice trembling.
The other, more quick-witted, bowed as well and called loudly inside.
“Quick! Report to the master! A Sword Sect Immortal Master has arrived!”
Ye Chen said nothing, merely watching them calmly.
Soon, a middle-aged man with a steward’s bearing hurried out, half stumbling as he performed a deep bow.
His voice quivered.
“Unaware of the Immortal Master’s esteemed arrival, I failed to welcome you from afar. Forgive my offense! The master has instructed that if an Immortal Master arrives, please… please rest in the side hall first. We will report immediately!”
“Thank you.”
Ye Chen’s tone was indifferent as he spoke two words.
He followed the guard, whose steps were now unsteady, through the gates of the Lin Residence.
Past the screen wall and winding through the courtyard, the side hall was elegantly arranged.
The zitan wood tables and chairs gleamed with a polished luster.
Famous landscape paintings hung on the walls, their brushwork bold and profound.
Ancient jades with gentle hues rested on the display shelves in the corners—clearly treasures of great value even in the mortal world.
“Compared to the Ye family, they truly know how to enjoy life.”
Ye Chen’s gaze swept the room, a fleeting thought crossing his mind.
He sat quietly, his fingertip unconsciously tracing the smooth surface of the table.
Two years.
In these two years, aside from that abandoned stargazing platform on the back mountain, he had barely stepped elsewhere within the sect.
His contact with Xiao was limited to a monthly Transmission Voice.
But he could sense the undercurrents beneath those seemingly calm words.
Choosing this task was partly for contribution points, but deeper still, it was a form of escape.
An escape from facing how Xiao would feel knowing he’d rather take risks than ask her for help.
It was the optimal solution—keeping distance to avoid unnecessary entanglements and clearing obstacles before the showdown with Xiao and Ling a year later.
Yet in his heart, there was an almost imperceptible pain.
“The Dao heart must eventually sever these pointless emotional ties.”
He admonished himself, the last ripple in his eyes fading into depth.
Not long after, hurried but restrained footsteps approached.
A middle-aged man in a dark purple robe with a scholarly demeanor, and a graceful, dignified woman, entered the side hall.
They were the head of the Lin family, Lin Tianzheng, and his wife, Madam Su.
Upon seeing Ye Chen, both immediately bowed deeply, their posture humble.
“Lin Tianzheng and my wife Su Wan, greet the Immortal Master! Your presence graces our home; forgive us for not welcoming you sooner!”
Lin Tianzheng’s voice was steady, yet it could not hide the tension and awe within.
Madam Su only offered a reserved bow, remaining silent, but her eyes cautiously studied the overly youthful Immortal Master before her.
“No need.”
Ye Chen rose, his tone still calm.
“I am here for the commission. There’s no need for formality.”
His gaze fell steadily on Lin Tianzheng, his expression tranquil.
It was precisely this calm that made Lin Tianzheng’s heart tighten.
Ye Chen seemed different from any cultivator he had ever met.
Lin Tianzheng hurriedly made a ‘please’ gesture, his posture deferential.
“Immortal Master, this place is humble. Please, move to the main hall for tea.”
Ye Chen nodded slightly in agreement.
The main hall was even more spacious and grand.
The central seat was empty.
Lin Tianzheng respectfully guided Ye Chen to the first seat on the right, while he and his wife sat below.
This arrangement marked Ye Chen as the most honored guest of the Lin family.
Soon, a Servant Girl with lowered eyes brought in fragrant tea.
The teacup was fine mutton-fat white jade, warm to the touch.
The rising steam carried a delicate orchid fragrance, refreshing and pure.
Ye Chen lifted the cup, gently blowing aside floating tea leaves, and took a sip.
The tea was slightly bitter at first, then mellowed to sweetness.
The spiritual energy within was almost negligible—nearly absent.