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Chapter 479: A Letter from the Seashore

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Jing Jiu remained silent for a long time while looking at the sky outside the window.

It seemed that he had done or thought of nothing as he fell silent; but it indicated that he was brewing an emotion of some sort at the moment.

It was a rare act for Jing Jiu; it was because this behavior was totally different from being dazed.

“A cloud drifted over from the south.”

The shocking effect of this statement was much more than the appearance of the two important figures of the Underworld.

Jing Jiu had a strong sensation of regret. Since he decided not to read his Big Brother’s letter, why had he seen it all the same?

He wondered if he should read the letter, because its content was truly important to him.

The only thing in the world that could temporarily wipe out the friction between him and his Big Brother and make his Big Brother forget about the hostility between them...was that cloud in the south.

He of course knew the meaning of this statement, and he also knew why his Big Brother would take the risk of using the Underworld Master to inform him in time.

The cloud in the south was actually a patch of fog enshrouding the Foggy Island, and an old man was hidden amid the fog.

That old man was Nan Qü, the first hidden swordsman of Chaotian; he was also the most powerful enemy of the Green Mountain Sect.

Their grandmaster Daoyuan failed in his ascension attempt because of this person; as a result, he died on the grounds of this world.

Jing Jiu had nothing to feel regretful about before his ascension in his former life, but killing Nan Qü would be among the top three things if he was pressed to think about what he would wish to do before his ascension.

However, Nan Qü had always hid in the fog; and Jing Jiu couldn’t find an effective way to kill him.

Yet right now, that cloud happened to have left the South Ocean and drift toward Chaotian.

This was something he and his Big Brother, even the entire Green Mountain, had been waiting for over eight hundred years; how could they miss the opportunity?!

...

...

That cluster of islands was still enshrouded in the thick fog, as if nothing had happened there.

Nobody had noticed that a patch of fog had left the islands over ten days ago, drifting over the surface of sea a thousand miles away.

The patch of white fog was about the size of a thatched hut, drifting slowly and soundlessly over the blue sea, giving off an eerie air.

The scorching hot sunlight was reflected off the patch of fog since it couldn’t penetrate it. This patch of fog was so bright as to blind the eyes; it was more like a patch of cloud than fog.

The sailors on the ocean boats were used to seeing all sorts of shining objects, so they didn’t pay much attention to the bright cloud even though they had noticed it, to say nothing of getting close to it and having a look.

It was the late spring, and dark clouds occurred more often now. The summer rainstorms were lurching in the near future, and the sunny days became less and short-lived. As such, that patch of white cloud was less noticeable.

One day, a ship from the Penglai Island suddenly encountered that cloud up ahead after having passed through a large patch of fog; a barrage of faint screams broke out on the ship.

The cloud looked rather soft and harmless, so it shouldn’t cause any damage regardless of whether it was in the sky or on the surface of ocean.

The ship neither slowed down nor changed its course as it headed toward that patch of white cloud.

The sailors all came out onto the deck in an attempt to witness the scene in which the ship hit and broke the cloud into pieces.

It was soundless.

The ship had broken the cloud into pieces, and then continued its course forward.

It was soundless.

Everybody on the ship was dead.

All of them shut their eyes tight while some of them still held the ropes in their hands, and some the teacups.

The white cloud continued drifting toward the north, and had finally arrived at the mainland after a long time.

It was early dawn, and a small fishing village by the sea was wrapped in a large sized fog that had suddenly arrived.

The morning sun peeked over the surface of ocean, illuminating the sky; but it couldn’t drive away the fog in the village. For the sun to come out, one had to wait until the fog moved to the north.

Slowly, some houses in the village were visible after the cloud and fog passed; but it was deathly quiet since nobody in those houses had woken up.

All of a sudden, a coughing could be heard on the beach.

A young woman was struggling to prop herself up. Her bare legs, scarcely covered by the short skirt, were full of sand grains, and the silver bells sewed to her dress gave off ringing sound occasionally.

She was Nan Zheng, and she used to be a formidable assassin of the Old Ones.

On the night when the Cloud Platform was destroyed, she fled, but her magic treasure was taken by Guo Dong.

What made her despair was the fact that the Green Mountain Sect was still as powerful as ever.

It would be exceedingly difficult to see the peak master of Qingrong, let alone take her revenge.

Feeling hopeless, she returned to the south and lived as a nameless person until now.

Everybody in the fishing village was dead, except her.

Seeing the corpses of the fishermen in front of her house and on the sandy beach and sensing the quietness in the surroundings and the ocean waves as loud as thunders, Nan Zheng grew extremely pale. She dared not make any sound as she looked at that patch of cloud.

An old voice came out from the fog: “Are you a southerner?”

“Yyy...eee...s,” Nan Zheng faltered in a trembling voice.

The old voice said, “Since you are a southerner, I have no reason to kill you.”

“Are you someone from the previous generation of our clan?” Nan Zheng offered timidly.

“I’m your ancestor,” the old voice claimed.

As the cloud and fog dispersed, an old man appeared.

The old man was quite small and skinny, looking as if he were a desiccated corpse; and his foggy and profound eyes occasionally shot out tangibly lethal intent.

It was a fact that he was indeed Nan Zheng’s ancestor rather than being said in an attempt to insult her.

Many people thought that he was a prince of a small kingdom in the South Ocean; in fact, all the southern barbaric tribes were his descendents.

His name was Nan Qü, and he was called the “Great Grandmaster of the Foggy Island”.

He had another more famous identity: the first swordsman of Chaotian.

He was the number one enemy of the Green Mountain Sect as well as its most powerful foe.

The Immortal Daoyuan died at his hands, and the Immortal Chengzhou was anxious to break through the state because of the incident and had died in the clouds of Green Mountain. The former was the Grandmaster of the Immortal Taiping and the Immortal Jing Yang, and the latter was their Master. One could imagine just how formidable the Great Grandmaster of the Foggy Island was.

In terms of Cultivation states, he had reached the upper state of Heavenly Arrival eight hundred years ago, and was a swordsman at the highest level.

Kneeling on the sandy beach, Nan Zheng didn’t dare lift up her head, nor did she dare to speak.

The Great Grandmaster had stayed on the Foggy Island for a great many years due to the fear of the Sword Formation of Green Mountain, she thought; and she wondered in surprise why he appeared on the mainland.

Nan Qü was aware of what was on her mind, but he didn’t bother explaining things to her.

He had hidden on the Foggy Island for hundreds of years and had no hope of ascending; he had at most a few decades left and was near the end of his life.

He thought that he must finish the job before the end of his time in this world.

What was the job then?

It was of course the job of wiping out the Green Mountain.

“The cloud and fog will eventually disperse.”

Raising his head and glancing at the faint morning sun outside the fog, the Great Grandmaster of the Foggy Island added expressionlessly, “Go find an item with strong dark energy for me.”

The item with the strongest dark energy in the world was none other than the coffins.

Nan Zheng had lived in this village several years, so she was aware of what each family possessed. She carried out a black colored coffin from a courtyard outside the salty field.

This coffin was made of phoebe wood and nurtured in the shadows behind the house for over twenty years, and so it should be full of dark energy. The only issue was that the carved cranes, deer and devils on its exterior were poorly done.

Nan Zheng’s face was ashen after she brought the coffin to the fog; she was afraid that the Great Grandmaster might be unsatisfied with the item she had chosen.

It was soundless inside the fog, but it fog started flowing.

It didn’t take long before the fog had entered the black coffin.

The fishing village became visible again.

A few yellow paper amulets drifted down from the sky, and landed squarely on the coffin. The amulets sealed off the coffin, ensuring that no energy would leak out from it.

...

...

There was a gate outside the peaks of Green Mountain, and the words “South Pine Pavilion” were written on it. Here was the southern mountain gate of Green Mountain.

A wooden table with pens, ink, paper and inkstone was placed under the mountain gate. A man clad in grey sword robe was stooping over the table, asleep.

Hearing the footsteps, the man lifted his head. He was the person Jing Jiu and Liu Shisui met when they arrived at Green Mountain many years ago; his name was Ming Guoxing.

Several decades had elapsed, and this disciple of Green Mountain hadn’t broken through further states yet, though he looked a bit old already.

Seeing the person approaching the mountain gate, he couldn’t help but rub his eyes a few times.

This person had an ordinary appearance, so was his bodily build and energy. He looked like an ordinary person in any aspect.

But, how could such an ordinary person find the mountain gate of Green Mountain?

Ming Guoxing grew cautious, thinking that he shouldn’t make the same mistake as when he had considered someone as important as Senior Master Jing Jiu to be useless person. He got up hastily, asking, “Could you please tell me who you are?”

“I’m a letter,” that ordinary person replied with a faint smile.

...

...

Using a person as a letter was the usual communication method of the Old Ones.

The Old Ones had sent such a letter after the assassination attempt on Zhao Layue.

Later, the Immortal Taiping had sent such a letter to the Old Dragon, telling him that a devil came to the Fiend Prison.

What message did this letter contain then?

Ming Guoxing didn’t dare open the letter himself of course, nor did he dare pass the letter on himself. He informed the inner gate as soon as he could.

Soon after, the Elder Mo arrived at the southern mountain gate in person, and brought the letter to Tianguang Peak.

The bright sunshine was reflected off the ocean of clouds rolling gently in front of Tianguang Peak against the blue sky, looking like the patch of ocean in the south.

Liu Ci asked while staring at that ordinary person, “What’s the message?”

That person was indeed an ordinary mortal, but he showed no fear when facing someone as important as the Sect Master of Green Mountain. “Immortal Master can look at it yourself,” he replied.

Liu Ci stared into his eyes.

It was very quiet on Tianguang Peak.

The shadow of the sword sheath on the stone monument had slowly elongated.

After a long while, Liu Ci said, “It’s done.”

That person walked toward the edge of the cliff.

“You don’t have to die,” said Liu Ci.

The man said, “Thanks for your mercy, old Immortal Master; but I have to die.”

Since he was a letter, he couldn’t stay alive after being opened; otherwise, the content of the letter would be discovered by someone else.

That person walked to the cliff’s edge and plunged himself into the ocean of clouds below calmly.

No horrific cry or scream could be heard.

A long moment later, a faint bumping sound of an object could be heard at the bottom of the cliff.

Liu Ci ambled to the cliff’s edge and gazed off at the West Ocean a thousand miles away, remaining reticent.