Chapter Thirty-Two: The Ruins

Having made the journey in vain, Dong Guzhi’s mood was abysmal. He could not help but feel disappointed in his sect. In contrast, Chen Fan fared better; he had finally glimpsed the realm of White Clouds and Pine Cranes, breaking through in both White Clouds True Technique and martial skills. His already extraordinary rate of progress soared again.

The two returned to Yan Capital. On the way, they encountered bandits, but before those men could approach, Chen Fan’s master—still simmering with anger—swept them away with a burst of true energy, killing them all.

Back at White Clouds Dojo, Master Dong Guzhi remained aloof, and the disciples treated Chen Fan with much respect. Reflecting on his time in the Spirit Dao Sect, Chen Fan’s feelings were complicated.

Within days, subtle shifts began to occur at White Clouds Dojo. For years, it had kept its distance from other martial halls, yet now it was actively collaborating with Blue Purity Gate—another sect in Yan Capital—for a disciples’ exchange event, seeking closer ties. Blue Purity Gate, after all, was the faction most closely connected to the imperial office. Such conduct would have been unthinkable for his master in the past.

“It seems Master returned from the Dao Sect utterly disappointed, no longer shying away from his former identity…” Upon learning the news, Chen Fan could only sigh, though he had nothing more to say.

Of course, given his reputation and strength, the exchange drew much interest from Blue Purity Gate’s disciples. Yet Chen Fan, having mastered two true techniques, felt no pressure facing them.

Ten days had not passed since his return to Yan Capital when Chen Fan finally achieved mastery of the first stage of his Star Body Tempering Technique. Lacking breakthroughs, the resources he possessed did little to advance this skill, so it was through sheer persistence and time that he succeeded.

Afterwards, Chen Fan felt his whole body flow with energy; his physique had strengthened markedly. Yet upon his breakthrough, the ring he wore began to behave strangely—not by revealing a second stage of cultivation as he expected, but by weaving starforce into a projected map, marking a special location.

Comparing it with the dojo’s detailed maps, Chen Fan identified the spot: not far from Yan Capital, a wilderness along the line extending toward Feiling County.

His thoughts raced: “That Yuan Kuanglin wasn’t a native of Feiling County, yet for some reason he came, only to be killed by the Black Tiger Gang. I always wondered why, having obtained the secrets of the Star Sect, he would flee to such a remote place. Turns out, he wasn’t headed for Feiling County at all!”

Now powerful, having reached the fourth stage of martial cultivation, Chen Fan believed his strength rivaled even fifth-stage warriors; Yuan Kuanglin was no longer out of reach.

“I wonder… what is the origin of this Star Sect?” Only now did the question truly arise in his mind. Intrigued, he refrained from asking around. After much consideration, the only person he trusted with enough strength was his master, Dong Guzhi.

So he went to see him.

“Star Sect… Where did you hear that name?” Dong Guzhi, having waited for Chen Fan to come to him, was surprised that his inquiry was not about cultivation but this matter instead.

Chen Fan briefly recounted his encounter with Yuan Kuanglin in Feiling County, omitting much, and only mentioning that he happened to hear Yuan Kuanglin’s final shout on the night he died.

Dong Guzhi was somewhat surprised: “Yuan Kuanglin was a notorious bandit in the region, but who would have thought he’d die in Feiling County? Odd… I recall his death was supposed to be the result of a Martial Academy disciple’s mission, not the handiwork of the Black Tiger Gang.”

Chen Fan sensed there was more to the story between Yuan Kuanglin and the Black Tiger Gang.

“After our trip to Spirit Dao Sect, I remembered the Star Sect. Could it be another hidden sect?” Dong Guzhi’s expression grew solemn.

“Though the Star Sect wasn’t as powerful as Spirit Dao Sect, it was still formidable, with experts beyond the tenth stage of martial cultivation. Yet it was wiped out decades ago by the combined forces of the imperial court and other sects.”

Dong Guzhi sighed, “Who’d have thought that bandit Yuan Kuanglin would inherit remnants of the demonic sect—no wonder he was wanted by the Martial Academy. Too bad he only reached the sixth stage at his death; he never obtained the Star Sect’s true treasures.”

Chen Fan’s doubts were dispelled, and after some casual conversation, he took his leave.

He stayed at the dojo only a few days more before setting out from Yan Capital alone.

Dong Guzhi, always keeping an eye on Chen Fan’s movements, recalled his disciple’s questions from days before and smiled wryly to himself: “It seems this disciple is hiding something from me. Could he have inherited something left behind by Yuan Kuanglin, some relic of the Star Sect? Yet at that time, he was just beginning his cultivation—daring to involve himself with a sixth-stage martial artist, his courage is commendable…”

As a master of the eighth stage, Dong Guzhi bore no ill will toward his disciple’s adventures, but rather admired his courage.

Meanwhile, Chen Fan was galloping across the wilderness.

This was not his first journey; he knew the chaos outside the city, aware of the possibility of encountering monsters, though they were rare. More likely, he would face bandits.

Yet bandits, lacking strength, were generally of little concern. Someone like Yuan Kuanglin was a rarity. Now, having broken through to the fourth stage, with his cultivation rising daily, Chen Fan had enough confidence to escape even if he could not defeat any bandits above the sixth stage.

The map marked a location some three or four hundred miles from Yan Capital. His steed, blessed with monster blood, was swift—covering a hundred miles in an hour. A round trip in a day was easily within his reach.

It was Chen Fan’s first time leaving the city alone, eager to experience the scenery of Qinghe Prefecture. Qinghe was famed for the Clear Spirit River, which ran through the entire region and stretched into the Western Wastes. Chen Fan’s destination lay on its banks.

He followed the river, and after two hours, drew near his goal. The journey had been smooth; he met neither monsters nor bandits.

“This is it!”

The target was a ruin—broken and desolate. All he could see was overgrown grass, ancient trees, and crumbling walls.

Chen Fan shook his head, “So it’s just a ruin. Even if any treasure were left behind, it was likely taken long ago…”

He tied his horse to a nearby tree. Sword in hand, he cut through the grass and vines, stepping along a fallen pillar toward the depths.

“Hmm?”

From his vantage point, he spotted a path amidst the weeds—notably clear amid the tangled growth, clearly trodden by human feet. Chen Fan narrowed his eyes, following the trail; in the distance, among the ruins, someone had erected a shelter from wood, with clothing draped on the railings.

“In such a remote place, someone stays here? Could it be a bandit hideout?”

Alerted, Chen Fan jumped down from the pillar. He searched carefully, hearing no sound, finding nothing amiss.

Then he took out the black ring hanging from his neck.

“I always thought this thing was a treasure, but it led me to such a place. No treasure in sight, and now I must worry about bandits… Where am I supposed to find anything?”

He was at a loss.

The ring had changed only after he broke through with the Star Body Tempering Technique, displaying the map, but since then, nothing else.

“Should I wait for nightfall? Perhaps it reacts under darkness?”

Chen Fan frowned, gripping the ring, and moved forward—then paused abruptly.

He placed the ring in his palm and stepped ahead.

Buzz, buzz.

The ring seemed to react, though only faintly.

“Is it guiding me?”

His eyes burned with excitement.

He moved in all directions, using the ring’s vibrations to judge his path.

Fortunately, the direction indicated by the ring led away from the traces of human activity, not toward danger.

His Flowing Clouds Sword Technique was now far superior; sword flashes cut through obstacles with ease.

Finally, he stopped before a ruined stone gate.

Though called a gate, the center was hollow, and vines covered the pillars.

Chen Fan’s gaze settled beneath the gate. “Could the treasure be buried below, waiting for me to dig it up?”

He approached with sword in hand, the ring’s tremors intensifying.

Just as he crossed the threshold, the scene before him twisted; it was as if he had stepped into an abyss.

Buzz!

The world stilled. Chen Fan felt a tightness in his chest, panic rising from within, and in a blink, his figure vanished from the ruins.