Chapter 111: I Want to Ask God

“The first day without Master, I miss her.”
“The second day without Master, I miss her.”
“The third day without Master, I still miss her.”
...
“On the thirty-seventh day without Master, I continue to long for her.”

“Master treated me like a stepmother, yet I treated Master like my own mother.”

“C-could you stop saying that? What’s so good about that woman? Am I not good to you?” The Golden Crow, harboring ill intentions, flung him from the high sky. “Tell me, what use are you now? They even sealed the mountain gate against you.”

When Wen Jinge led her disciples down the mountain, the Wanzhang Peak was sealed. The Three-legged Golden Crow and the old Taoist had appeared midway, and to save those injured by the Crow Qing, Yuan Qingling brought them back to Xuan Yun Sect.

Originally, he thought he could happily water the flowers, bask in the sun, soak in the spiritual springs, and settle into a leisurely old age on Wanzhang Peak while the senior masters treated the wounded.

No, that was wrong—he was already old, albeit looking younger.

Yet, he never expected his Master’s greed would wound his tender heart so deeply. He had no key to return to Wanzhang Peak and was now forced to lodge on Lingxiao Peak.

Feeling the rushing wind past his ears, the sensation of falling brought nothing but a sense of death, no thrill.

The Golden Crow, on the other hand, was invigorated. Flapping its wings vigorously, it swept him to the ground and then, disappointed, said, “The poison in those people’s bodies will soon be cured. When that happens, I’ll accompany you to find your Master, alright?”

Such scenes played out daily on Lingxiao Peak. Yuan Qingling enjoyed them immensely, while the Golden Crow was driven nearly mad.

When Yuan Qingling smiled knowingly, the Golden Crow flew up disdainfully, “You humans are truly insufferable.”

Yuan Qingling chuckled foolishly. Behind him sounded the rumble of wheels. He turned his head, “Uncle Ai, hello.”

“I’m not much older than you.” Ai Fengling was a refined man, much like Wen Jinge in the past—he enjoyed tranquility.

Before Wen Jinge took Liang Si back, Liang Si was the only disciple left on the mountain. After Liang Si returned, Wen Jinge was recruiting disciples and took two more along.

The hardships of an artifact cultivator were not something outsiders could understand.

Though called an artifact cultivator, most had to combine other cultivation methods, so that their creations were ingenious and their weapons could fight as extensions of themselves.

Many artifact cultivators turned to this path out of desperation, like Ai Fengling.

Now, Ai Fengling was the only one left on the mountain. The two disciples who had joined could not endure the harsh teaching—one went to Xumi Peak to learn formations, and the other headed toward the outer mountains.

“About sixty or seventy years old, I’d say.”

Ai Fengling was the youngest but no less gifted than Wen Jinge had been.

This made him the prime target of the demonic clans within Xuan Yun Sect. Were it not for Wen Jinge’s alternative path taught long ago, he might have ended his own life.

“...” Yuan Qingling twitched the corner of his mouth.

“Compared to you, I really do look like an old man now.” Ai Fengling seemed lost in thought. “This mountain hasn’t been this lively for a long time. No wonder Sister Wen’s heart has softened with all of you around.”

“Softened?” Yuan Qingling’s expression turned strange.

Soft or not, he knew well that Master was fierce in battle, ruthless in saving others, and fond of teasing—he had experienced it firsthand.

“Yes! Much softer than before, so much so that the younger generation on this mountain no longer fears her.” His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden armrest of his wheelchair, producing a hollow sound.

“Please be clear, Uncle Ai.” Yuan Qingling reckoned that although he had not always been a model disciple, he had never wronged Wen Jinge.

Ai Fengling was a man of few words; for him to say this meant he had noticed something.

“Can I borrow your Golden Crow?” Ai Fengling asked, then shook his head. “Never mind, it’s not yours to use. It might cause trouble.”

“Hey! Cripple, who are you calling trouble?” The Golden Crow fluttered out from the bushes, transforming into human form upon landing. “You and Wen both love to scold people.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Yuan Qingling tapped his forehead. “This is my uncle, watch your tongue.”

“It’s fine,” Ai Fengling shook his head, “demons—what else can you expect.”

“Hmph! Damn cripple!”

“Keep that up and don’t expect to siphon any demon energy from me!”

“I—I won’t dare.” The Golden Crow wilted instantly but glared fiercely at Ai Fengling. “Don’t think I’m afraid of you. I’m not afraid!”

Ai Fengling just smiled. He handed a small box to Yuan Qingling—a delicate box carved from redwood, no larger than a fingernail.

“Tonight, go to the Burning Heaven Gate and slip this little box under your Master’s longevity talisman.”

“Slip it under?”

“Yes, her jade talisman is mine to make. It can hold this.”

The longevity talisman was no trivial thing—it symbolized a mystic’s life and death. Yuan Qingling hesitated. “Uncle Ai, you said someone was disrespecting Master earlier...”

“I don’t know who it is yet,” Ai Fengling said, “but having stayed here long enough, I’ve heard many rumors.”

Yuan Qingling wanted to remark that Lingxiao Peak only housed Ai Fengling himself now—where would such rumors come from? But he thought better of it. His uncle had suffered enough misfortune; it was best not to provoke him further.

“If you trust me, go and do this.”

“I’ve heard Burning Heaven Gate is Master’s tribulation; that’s why she lost her memory there?”

Ai Fengling studied him for a moment, lost in thought, his gaze distant. “Whether it’s truly a tribulation, I can’t say. But I know she has borne half of what I should have endured.”

Ai Fengling did not explain what was inside the box. As Yuan Qingling prepared to leave, he asked, “Uncle Ai, what do you need the Golden Crow for?”

Ai Fengling paused in pushing his wheelchair. “To help me find someone, or perhaps, a place. The Golden Crow is a being of pure yang energy, and moreover, it’s three-legged. There are few things in this world that fit that description.”

“What place? You two look so dour; it’s rare to see you interested in something.” The Golden Crow propped its chin on its hand, impatient. “Come on, say it or not? Hey, immortal Ai, if you don’t tell me, I’m breaking into your window tonight and keeping you awake.”

“Shut your mouth!” Yuan Qingling groaned.

“There are four places. Find any one of them and it will be enough.”

“Which four?”

“Qingqiu Lake, Dian Mountain Range, Pingchuan Valley, and Mogan City.”

“Never heard of them.” The Golden Crow scratched its ear. “I’ve traveled far and wide with the old Taoist, but I’ve never heard these names. Qingqiu I know—old Taoist said it’s the only sacred place of the demon clan, but no one knows the entrance.”

Its expression darkened. “Are the other three like Qingqiu Lake? Ai, are you teasing me?”

“I want to ask the gods.” Ai Fengling remained calm. “If the gods truly exist.”