Chapter Thirty-Three: Setting Off!

The Sect Master of the Refining Sect wore a face of disbelief and exclaimed, “What! You actually blocked my three sword strikes.” Then, a faint relaxation appeared at the corner of his mouth as he said, “Very well! You may leave. I have always been one to abide by the rules.”

The Sect Master stepped forward, treading on the spirit ring beneath his feet, and waved to his subordinates to withdraw.

Four men clad in black robes exerted their strength simultaneously, dismantling the barrier.

Fang Yu emerged swiftly and hurried to Rain Fan’s side, crouching down gently. “Junior Brother, are you alright?”

Rain Fan supported his chest and replied, “I’m fine, no major injuries. Senior Sister, please go to the corner by the gate and fetch my package. I was struck and thrown there by his palm. Help me get the medicinal pills.”

Fang Yu immediately rose and dashed outside.

Sunlight filtered through the sparse clouds, casting mottled patterns along the path outside the Refining Sect’s gate. Fang Yu’s figure moved swiftly through the interplay of light and shadow, her raven hair fluttering lightly in the breeze, carrying a sense of urgency and determination.

She traversed a few neatly arranged bluestone steps, her gaze fixed on an inconspicuous corner where some clutter was piled, among which lay Rain Fan’s package.

Fang Yu crouched down, her fingers swiftly weaving through the mess until she grasped an aged cloth pouch. Lifting it gently, a faint dust rose into the air.

She stood, brushing the dust off the pouch, her eyes shimmering with concern and tenderness, as if the package contained not just items, but her deep care for her junior brother’s safety.

Turning around, the sunlight caught the side of her face, outlining a visage both resolute and gentle. She quickened her pace, silently repeating Rain Fan’s name, hurrying toward his direction.

Fang Yu returned quickly to Rain Fan’s side. The sunlight behind her cast a long shadow, adding a touch of warmth to the tense atmosphere.

She knelt, hands trembling slightly as she untied the pouch’s strings. A faint herbal fragrance wafted out, blending naturally with the surrounding air.

“Rain Fan, identify it yourself—the bottle of pills you need,” she said softly but with unwavering certainty.

Rain Fan struggled to sit upright. His eyes scanned the package and finally rested on an ancient ceramic bottle adorned with intricate patterns, resembling an old talisman.

He reached out and gently picked it up, pulling out the wooden stopper. A stronger medicinal aroma rose, invigorating the spirit.

The pill glowed faintly at his fingertips, like the gentlest star in the night sky.

He lightly placed the pill under his tongue; an instant coolness spread through him, like a spring stream brushing across his heart, washing away the lingering pain.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and folded his legs, sitting as firmly as an ancient pine rooted to the earth.

As his breathing deepened, the surrounding air seemed to respond to his will, swirling into a subtle vortex.

The herbal scent mingled with the natural aura, creating a unique healing energy that seeped into every cell of Rain Fan’s body.

Deep within his consciousness, warm true qi surged from his dantian, flowing like gentle streams through intricate meridians. Wherever it passed, damaged channels mended and pain diminished.

Rain Fan’s face gradually softened, his brow unfurrowed as all weariness and agony seemed to release in that moment.

He slowly rose, swaying slightly, but his gaze had regained its former resolve. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling his determined face with gentle golden hues.

Seeing this, Fang Yu stepped forward anxiously, eyes full of concern and tenderness. She gently supported his arm, her hands conveying silent strength and comfort.

Rain Fan lightly brushed dust from his clothes as if to sweep away the unpleasantness of moments before. Turning, his gaze blazed like a sword, heading straight toward the fallen Sword Elder.

The Sword Elder lay quietly, his face serene but devoid of life. Rain Fan’s expression turned solemn, words unnecessary—only complex emotions flickered in his eyes: grief for the elder’s passing and resolute determination for the future.

His steps were heavy yet unyielding. Carrying the Sword Elder’s body, each step seemed weighted with immense burden but also marked by unwavering resolve.

Sunlight filtered through the sparse leaves, casting fragmented light on his steadfast face. Sweat trickled down his chin, mingling with dust to sketch a scene of tragic valor.

Fang Yu followed closely, her eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions—heartache for Rain Fan’s strength and worry for the uncertain path ahead.

She reached out softly to wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch gentle and delicate, as if trying to ease some of his burden with this small gesture.

The two moved through the quiet forest path. The surrounding silence was broken only by the rustle of leaves and their heavy breaths.

Rain Fan’s gaze never left the Sword Elder on his shoulder, deep reverence and sorrow flowing silently in the air.

Finding a suitable spot, he knelt and bowed deeply to the Sword Elder.

Fang Yu stood quietly beside him, glancing from Rain Fan to the grave.

Rain Fan’s figure stretched long in the twilight glow. As he knelt, the soil beneath him seemed to yield silently to the weight of sorrow.

He clasped his hands and closed his eyes in meditation. His face was etched with profound respect and reluctance. His forehead gently touched the earth, each bow a thunderous heartbeat in his soul—a deep tribute to his master’s grace and the highest honor to the departed spirit.

The air seemed to freeze; even the wind ceased, broken only by distant birdsong that punctuated the stillness.

Fang Yu stood quietly by, her gaze tenderly fixed on Rain Fan, her eyes reflecting a complex blend of sympathy for his loss and admiration for his steadfastness. Her hands folded lightly over her chest as if silently praying—for the Sword Elder’s soul to find peace, and for Rain Fan to emerge soon from the shadows.

Rain Fan’s fingertips brushed the moist earth, each grain bearing his endless remembrance and respect.

He knelt before the grave, hands clenched into fists, eyes shining with resolve and sorrow.

He bowed deeply three times, each prostration both a farewell to the past and a vow to the future. The soil at his brow bore witness to his devotion, and the surrounding air grew solemn with this profound emotion.