Different Place

In the vast and boundless world of cultivation, the dreaded figure is now moved. After hundreds of years of forging himself and achieving his ambition, he had lost his desire. Choosing to seclude himself in the lone mountain.

The remarkable sects were still struggling and thinking of ways to finish him off and devour his life core to make them the strongest on the mainland. But, discovering his whereabouts resembled a hidden treasure – triumph in this battle equated to obtaining the coveted spoils found within a tribute.

Xin Yuan, a name evoking tremors at its mere utterance. His formidable aura alone could immobilize even the most skilled cultivators in fear. His blond eyes held a potent power, capable of ensnaring others in the illusion of affliction.

Yet, despite these accomplishments, none of it held significance for him. His heart remained a blank vessel in his immortal existence, void of fulfillment. No challenge stirred him, and the once-familiar surge of adrenaline was a distant companion, never to return.

"Is your despair so deep that your spirit has deserted you?" someone stood beside him, staring into the distance. "You're still in distance, but have lost from its direction."

The man, seated cross-legged on the rock, opened his eyes, his handsome face illuminated by the sunrise on the horizon. "Master," he remarked, "are you here to advise me or make fun of me?"

The old man chuckled, not bothering to turn to his student. "Would you be mad if I claimed both?"

Yuan smiled and remarked, "You haven't changed. Even in spirit form, you remain as vexing as ever."

"You know, ever since you have become immortal, you have defeated many sects without signs of mercy at all," he explained. "You lack compassion towards each other."

The black-haired man, whose locks cascaded down his back, remained silent, choosing to listen without offering a response.

"It's not that you don't know where to go and what to do," the old man turned his head, observing his student. "Instead, it is the emptiness of your heart that leaves you adrift in the vastness of the ocean."

"So, what is your advice, Master?" Yuan sighed, accepting the truth in his mentor's words.

"Seek someone who can fill your heart," the Master affirmed, fixated on Yuan. "Someone you love."

Yuan's sharp eyes shifted forward. "Master, love is what makes us weak. Some fools are even willing to sacrifice cultivation for mortal love. How could that lead me to what I seek?"

"Oh, but you misunderstand the concept," the old man stepped towards him. "Love is shared energies that will fill that void. You need to find the right one, and it will be infinite."

"Because of love," Yuan averted to his Master, "you died without having achieved your vision."

"Yes, but I never regret it," the Master then folded his hands on his chest. "I'm much happier right now."

"How so?"

"I've discovered a meaning in life," he turned his face toward the sunrise. "What's the point of living forever if you don't hold the significance behind it?"

The atmosphere turned silent, not a single sound from Yuan. He gazed downward, deep in contemplation, until finally raising his head. To his surprise, his master had vanished, replaced by a blinding flash of light ahead.

Following the old man's advice, Yuan faced the challenge of seeking the right individual, aware that as a cultivator known for his merciless nature, the route would be arduous.

Similar to earlier instances, he paid scant attention to his Master's words, once again shutting his eyes to immerse himself in the realm of subconsciousness. The wind caressed his hair as he delved deeper into his mind, everything became numb.

Devoid of sound or sensation, darkness enveloped him in the void. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the clamor of shouts intensified. An enraged shout echoed, accompanied by the sharp sound of something striking each other, compelling Yuan to open his eyes.

This time, what met his eyes wasn't the sun's horizon or the mountain but a room filled with men of his age. All adorned in worn, tattered black uniform robes akin to his own.

"You awake?" one of the bald men addressed him, hugging his calves right in front of Yuan. "Better not to fall asleep again, Eloran."

"Wait, where am I?" Yuan, bearing the name Eloran, circled his eyes in various angles, realizing that he was not in a room, but a vehicle.

The bald male turned towards the brightly shining front. "Well, this is our stop. I wonder what other torments will befall us."

Eloran widened those blond eyes, scarcely believing what he heard. Looking down, he sensed a transformation, growing much younger with thick black hair and disheveled curls. Amidst the transformation, a loud voice erupted, startling everyone.

"Come out and line up!" one of the individuals in full steel armor swung open the entrance, their unkind and fierce faces roughly pulling one of them. "Move now! Don't you know this location is hot!"

With no compassion, the lad was knocked to the sand, forcing the others down in turn out of fear. Eloran did not have much choice as chains were now attached to his wrists that connected to the others, leading him out of the carriage and into the desert.

Surrounded by nothing but dunes, the sun's scorching heat penetrating their skin, Eloran squinted and surveyed the surroundings. At least six men, clad in the same armor and brandishing drawn swords, formed an ominous circle around them.

"Let's test them all," the white short-haired man in his fifties declared. "We might as well make this spot their burial if there are any non-magi."

The sharp eyes watched the crowd of men who looked down in fear, not daring to lift their heads. "We don't need a slave who can't wield magic."

"We're all done," the bald man next to Eloran whispered in an almost inaudible tone. "If I'm not mistaken, we all can't do magic."

Eloran was stricken with apprehension this time as the knight ordered one of his flock forward, his chain released by them. "So now, show us what you can do," exclaimed the old man.

Fear engulfed the slave, not knowing what to do, silent as he cried. "What's the matter?" the white-haired man approached condescendingly, seizing the man's matted hair. "Can't even execute simple magic?"

With trembling lips, that slave managed to let out a voice. "Please, spare me!"

Without hesitation, the knight stabbed him straight through the stomach, the blade penetrating his back before being retracted, leaving him sprawled and covered in blood. "No world for a weak human."