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Yanhuang City was established over a hundred years ago by a remarkable martial arts master from Huaguo, who founded a school of his own. After years of development, it absorbed and integrated the strengths of various schools, introducing countless essences of both Eastern and Western martial arts, attracting countless enthusiasts.
Jufeng was a disciple of one of the oldest and most prestigious lineages in Yanhuang City, known as the Yanhuang Lineage. If one were to trace its origins, it would likely have a history of over a thousand years. From the very beginning, Yanhuang City established a policy of welcoming guests and gathering talented individuals. However, after a century, despite the emergence of numerous sects, the Yanhuang Sect remained the leading authority among them.
Mo Yan was the eldest disciple of Jufeng and had trained alongside him in Yanhuang City. Due to their similar ages, they often engaged in mischievous antics together. Now, after many years apart, Mo Yan found it hard to contain his emotions upon seeing Jufeng again. Fortunately, Romain had recently experienced profound sorrow from the loss of loved ones, which helped him quickly regain his composure.
“What’s going on? Are you just going to stand there excitedly without inviting me in for a seat?”
Only then did Mo Yan realize that holding onto his senior brother's hand while standing there was quite impolite. He stepped aside and invited Jufeng and his companions into the courtyard. Juwen stood nearby, observing quietly. It seemed that what this stranger had said was indeed true; however, according to what he knew, there were only twelve disciples under the Ancestor—where did this Master Uncle come from? Looking at the man's age, he didn't seem much older than himself.
Curiosity piqued in the young man; he quickly tidied up the broom and dashed after them.
Behind the courtyard was a room with only a few sparse seats and shadows of people. Jufeng looked around and saw Ninth Senior Brother along with several unfamiliar young faces. It appeared that not much had changed in Yanhuang City over the years; this was still the only route to the mountain villages, and usually, a senior brother would be stationed here to handle various trivial matters.
Ninth Senior Brother was middle-aged, around forty years old. Due to years of martial arts training, he appeared exceptionally strong and robust. As he watched Mo Yan lead three strangers inside, Listening to Bai felt puzzled—what urgent matter could have arisen so close to evening?
While he was deep in thought, he suddenly heard Mo Yan shout loudly: “Master, look who has returned!”
Listening to Bai focused closely and saw a somewhat blurry figure appear before him. Comparing it with the extraordinary young man in the center, their faces instantly matched.
“Junior Brother?”
“Brother Bai!”
Ninth Senior Brother called out to Listening to Bai while Tenth Senior Brother called Wen Hei. Jufeng, being young and mischievous, deliberately referred to them as Black and White Brothers.
Hearing those familiar names filled Listening to Bai with joy; it was rare for him to show such an unguarded expression in front of his fellow disciples. He laughed heartily and embraced Jufeng.
The young disciples around him exchanged puzzled glances, just as they caught sight of Juwen entering. They quickly gestured for him to come over, and after a round of questioning, they vaguely realized that this person was actually their Master Uncle.
Wasn't Master Uncle Fan Zhi the only one? Where did this one come from? Yanhuang City had many rules, so these naive youths dared only to grumble in their hearts, not daring to discuss it openly.
Listening to Bai, momentarily excited, soon regained his solemn demeanor. After giving instructions to the disciples and leaving Mo Yan to handle matters, he led Jufeng and the others toward the village behind the courtyard. Most of the disciples from Yanhuang City were gathered there, and within half an hour, Jufeng would be able to meet his old acquaintances from previous years.
The mountain path wound on, but for those skilled in martial arts, it was merely a daily exercise. Flower Snow Moon felt quite uncomfortable, but fortunately, Politeness was there to look after her.
As soon as they entered the village, Listening to Bai shouted at the top of his lungs, "Junior brother is back! Crazy junior brother is back!" Hearing the shout, people began to rush out one after another, some still holding bowls of rice in their hands, with white rice and vegetables barely chewed.
The evening breeze was gentle, and as the lights began to glow, the previously quiet valley suddenly became lively.
Half of the crowd consisted of elderly people, at least those from Jufeng's era. Upon seeing Jufeng, they immediately broke into smiles, and in an instant, the entire village erupted with excitement. Many newcomers did not recognize Jufeng but inquired with their fellow disciples. Upon learning that he was a direct disciple of the Ancestor and a favored student from years past, curiosity sparked among them. They took advantage of the moment and settled down to watch. The chaotic situation only began to calm down after Master Brother Jufeng arrived. Those unrelated were sent back to practice while a group of brothers surrounded Jufeng and led him to a house for a detailed chat.
Master Brother Shen Lu was quite old, probably nearing seventy, yet he walked with vigor and had a youthful complexion that amazed Flower Snow Moon.
Shen Lu invited Jufeng to take a seat. They looked at each other in silence for five or six minutes before Shen Lu slowly said, "The crazy one is finally not so crazy anymore."
Jufeng chuckled without a care in the world; in front of these brothers, he would always be that child running around in split pants. He had grown accustomed to relying on these family members.
"Master Brother, after so many years apart, you still look as charming as ever."
Jufeng laughed heartily. Shen Lu shot him an annoyed glance and pretended to scold him: "After more than ten years apart, you tease your brother as soon as we meet. Come on now, how have you been all these years?"
Jufeng spent his childhood in Yanhuang City but had most of his school days in the capital. He began recounting stories to his brothers. In truth, life had been mostly uneventful; it was mostly about his mischief in the capital. He even mentioned Flower Snow Moon, causing Fiery Beauty to blush in front of so many elders. The brief period playing soccer was worth mentioning; however, he glossed over his life after moving to Washing City—only mentioning his father's death without delving into the struggles with the Underworld.
Upon hearing about Father Ju's unfortunate passing, Shen Lu's expression grew serious. He couldn't help but sigh deeply and murmured, "Life is fleeting; we cannot escape it. Junior brother, you need not grieve too much."
Jufeng was not the kind of person to be swayed by emotions. Although he felt a deep sadness within, it did not affect his normal life. Hearing his senior brother's lament, Jufeng sensed that someone was missing, and thus he asked, "Senior Brother, why isn't Master here?"
Upon hearing the mention of their Master, the joy on everyone's faces vanished, and Shen Lu's expression darkened even more.
"The Master's health has been declining day by day. A couple of years ago, he fell seriously ill, which aggravated his old ailments. Since then, his condition has worsened. A month ago, it became even more severe, and he has returned to the back mountain shrine for rest. However, it's fortunate that you have come back; the old man has been reluctant to close his eyes, probably because he wants to see you one last time."
Jufeng was taken aback by this news. The grief hidden within him due to his father's death surged forth like a tidal wave. Images flooded his mind of that white-haired old man taking him up the mountain to catch monkeys and climbing trees to pick peaches. But now, upon returning, would those simple five words mean that the old man was about to depart from this world?
Was ten years truly such a sharp sword?
Jufeng murmured in disbelief, and the sorrow in the room deepened, enveloping each person's heart like the nightfall in the mountains.
(To be continued)
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