AVL Chapter 78

Yan Ling was waiting for the rain to stop.

 

Though locked within countless interlocking barriers, Yan Ling somehow felt certain it was raining outside.

 

Autumn rain brings cold, and this rain pattered gently—not the wild tempests of summer, but like a sorrowful piano melody.

 

Yan Ling sat at the cave entrance, hugged his knees and curled into a small ball, pressing one ear against the cold stone door, listening whiningly to the sound of the drizzle.

 

Only now did Yan Ling have time to think about the sounds.

 

Since waking this time, his ears were filled with all sorts of subtle noises, as if someone were whispering in his ear.

 

But Yan Ling was like a child who had just learned to speak, able only to stumble through understanding what those strange “words” meant.

 

Yan Ling suspected he’d gone mad and was experiencing auditory hallucinations. Just as he was pulling at his ears forcefully, he suddenly heard a piercing shriek—a warning sound.

 

Before he could understand its meaning, instinct took over and his body hair stood on end, his pupils shrinking to a pinpoint.

 

Looking bewilderingly to the side, in the flickering candlelight, a snake in the corner had vertical pupils and a cold stare, flicking its tongue menacingly at him.

 

As if about to attack.

 

Yan Ling exhaled: “Just a snake.”

 

He’d grown up running around Yanwen Mountain and saw snakes in the forest almost every day in summer. He thought nothing of it. He casually waved a faint trace of spiritual force, batting the snake to the corner to stay put.

 

Don’t bother him—he was thinking.

 

But Yan Ling had no idea what a “Tianyan xiangwen” was like. Even with a spiritual-grade xiangwen that everyone envied in his body, he understood nothing, knew nothing. Half-dazed, he leaned against the door and continued thinking while listening to the rain.

 

A ten-year-old child’s mind couldn’t work it out no matter how hard he tried. Drowsy, he wanted to sleep, but his heart remained uneasy. He always felt the rain outside was weak, yet inexplicably harbored an illusion of a gathering storm.

 

Yan Ling reached out and scratched at the door, muttering to himself: “Mother, when can I come out?”

 

When would the rain stop?

 

No one answered him.

 

Yan Ling had never been confined as punishment, no matter what mistakes he made. He sat there hugging his knees, glumly thinking that had he known he’d be stuck here this long, he should have had A-Yue come keep him company.

 

Yan Yue was young, soft-natured, and cried easily. A few words could get him wailing—especially fun.

 

Yan Ling, without conscience, began fantasizing about the little crybaby Yan Yue’s sobbing face, and his mood finally improved a little.

 

Just as he was about to lean against the cave and rest for a moment, the sound of falling rain outside suddenly accompanied by a sound that made scalp tingle and cold sweat pour down his back—the same warning sound as when he’d encountered the snake, yet utterly different in degree.

 

If the snake’s threat to Yan Ling was merely a “warning,” an attempt to drive him away, then the sound from outside was an overwhelming killing intent.

 

Danger.

 

Yan Ling’s half-closed eyes suddenly registered something was wrong.

 

Yanwen Mountain received fewer than two visitors a year, and they were usually Yan Hanque’s close friends or uncles from neighboring sects—all friendly folk.

 

His family lived in seclusion on Yanwen Mountain, never causing trouble. They only traveled by boat during festivals and holidays. They’d never made enemies. So why was there such a terrifying sound outside that made Yan Ling’s teeth chatter?

 

Yan Ling thought of something, shaking with fear. He scrambled up and desperately pounded on the cave door.

 

“Father! Mother! A-Yue!”

 

This cave was where cultivators of past generations had entered seclusion. Its barriers were formidable, concealing Yan Ling’s intense spiritual-grade xiangwen aura thoroughly. Even such a powerful cave wouldn’t let sound escape, no matter how hard Yan Ling screamed.

 

Yan Ling desperately tried to pry open the perfectly sealed crack with his scrawny hands. Using all his spiritual force, his fingernails split and bled, yet the door didn’t budge at all.

 

He hung his ten bleeding fingers weakly. The “hissing” sounds in his ears surged again to a horrifying degree he couldn’t bear. The deafening noise made him cry out in pain, covering his ears tightly with both hands.

 

Yan Ling’s heart pounded like a drum. His subconscious sensed something terrible was happening. He couldn’t think straight, only following instinct as he desperately struggled to keep pounding the door.

 

“Mother! Father! Let me out! Mother!”

 

All ten of Yan Ling’s fingers were bleeding, and the stone door was covered with grim bloodstains.

 

But this door was too solid—like an unbridgeable chasm blocking Yan Ling. No matter how he tore his heart out crying, he couldn’t shake it even slightly.

 

Suddenly, a deafening thunderclap echoed through his ears, stunning Yan Ling momentarily.

 

Instinct told him something bad was happening, but he couldn’t understand what the thunder meant.

 

Two lines of tears unconsciously slid from his eyes. Just as Yan Ling stood there blank-faced, another shock of thunder sounded.

 

Outside, the rain remained gentle—not like summer thunderstorms with their rumbling rolls.

 

Yan Ling stood there in confusion, tears streaming down his face. At that moment, the entire cave suddenly plunged into darkness.

 

The candle that had been burning on the stone table was actually Yan Hanque’s rhino horn lamp.

 

Yan Ling froze, not knowing what to do. In the darkness, a faint glimmer of unburned candlelight appeared at the lamp wick, then fell to the ground, transforming into a tall, illusory human figure.

 

It was Yan Hanque.

 

Yan Ling was stunned, then suddenly wailed heartbrokenly and threw himself forward: “Father!”

 

He’d thought the thunder was something bad. Thank goodness Father had come.

 

Yan Ling, full of joy at being reunited, stumbled forward. Just as he was about to bury himself in his father’s arms and cry out his inner panic, his thin body passed right through the illusory figure and he crashed to the ground with a thud, falling to his knees.

 

Yan Ling was dazed by the fall and turned back in confusion.

 

“Father?”

 

Yan Hanque bent down slightly. With a hand that seemed illusory, burning away like candlelight, he reached out to touch Yan Ling’s face. In his eyes was a reluctance and sorrow Yan Ling had never seen before.

 

“Father?” Yan Ling tried to grab Yan Hanque’s hand but kept grasping at air. He choked out: “Father, I’m scared. Will you hold me? Father, wuu…”

 

Yan Hanque still spoke those words: “A-Ling, don’t be afraid.”

 

Yan Ling choked: “I’m not afraid. When Father is beside me, I’m not afraid.”

 

Yan Hanque’s eyes trembled. After a long moment, he spoke softly: “A-Ling, remember carefully what I’m about to say.”

 

Yan Ling: “Huh?”

 

Yan Hanque spoke concisely: “You now bear a spiritual-grade xiangwen. Your path ahead will be fraught with difficulties. Remember Father’s words—never tell anyone about your xiangwen’s abilities.”

 

Yan Ling’s mind went blank. He couldn’t understand what Yan Hanque meant at all, speaking numbly: “Father? What are you saying?”

 

What spiritual-grade xiangwen?

 

Why would his path be difficult if Father and Mother were here?

 

He didn’t understand.

 

Yan Hanque’s hand, formed from the rhino horn lamp’s wick, pressed against Yan Ling’s cheek—an unprecedented warmth. This was the first and only time the perpetually cold, indifferent, stern man showed such tenderness to Yan Ling.

 

He even gave a soft laugh, keeping his voice gentle and tender. He tried to wipe the tears from Yan Ling’s face but his hand passed through.

 

Yan Hanque’s eyes dimmed, and he spoke softly: “A-Ling, don’t be afraid.”

 

He always told Yan Ling “don’t be afraid.”

 

Yan Ling had heard this countless times, always letting it pass over him like wind.

 

With Father and Mother present, no matter how scared he was, there would be a safe harbor to rely on.

 

But now this sentence was clearly different. Yan Ling could hear it.

 

“Okay.” Yan Ling nodded, his face streaked with tears. “Okay, I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of anything.”

 

No matter what he encountered in the future, he wouldn’t be afraid.

 

Yan Hanque smiled again: “Good boy.”

 

Yan Ling asked hopefully: “So has the rain stopped outside?”

 

Yan Hanque was startled for a moment, then spoke softly: “It will stop.”

 

Just as Yan Ling was about to speak again, he saw Yan Hanque’s body, which seemed to burn like candlelight, gradually extinguishing inch by inch—the final brilliance before the wick completely burned out.

 

Yan Hanque suddenly said: “A-Ling…”

 

Yan Ling’s heart raced wildly. The sound of flames burning in his ears grew weaker and weaker. For some reason, he held his breath, not daring to speak, only letting out a trembling sound:

 

“Hm?”

 

Yan Hanque seemed to simply want to call his name. His cold eyes looked as if they might be burned warm and tender by the candlelight.

 

Yan Ling finally suppressed his inner fear and was about to speak.

 

Suddenly, the body formed from the lamp wick finally burned away, gradually transforming into ashes that slowly disappeared.

 

Yan Ling’s pupils shrank. He immediately threw himself forward, trying to embrace Yan Hanque.

 

“Father! Father!”

 

In an instant, Yan Hanque’s body had vanished, leaving only an afterimage in Yan Ling’s vision.

 

The cave returned to pitch-black darkness where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.

 

Yan Ling knelt there, bewildered for a long while, before his voice trembled as he spoke.

 

“…Father?”

 

***

 

**

 

 

---