Ling Yeqing

The season of bone‑piercing cold rain had come again. Was this the sign that winter was about to arrive…

There were hardly any pedestrians left on the road. Everyone hurried along, not daring to stop for even a moment. The sound of the freezing rain drumming on the pavement grew louder. Only one young man stood lost at the crossroads, soaked under the pouring rain, with faint pellets of ice mixed in, cold to the extreme.

Facing him was the high school he’d attended for three years. Looking at that twelve‑story, European‑style teaching building, his heart tightened a little. Just half a semester more and the hard days would finally come to an end.

Moxiang High School wasn’t very famous, but it was a closed, private high school with a one‑hundred‑and‑fifty‑year history. The dorms were single rooms, luxuriously furnished. But that treatment only existed for families with money and power. For a poor kid like Tianhua, who had no one to care about him, no background, no pity from anyone, how could he ever enjoy something like a deluxe single on campus?

“Sigh~!! Is a boy nobody loves and nobody wants only worthy of renting a tiny two‑story apartment seven streets away from the school gate?”

Juxi pushed his bicycle and complained about not choosing a better family to be born into, feeling like a background extra with zero presence from start to finish.

He understood reality. He didn’t have some blindingly stunning, demon‑like beauty, but heaven had still favored him with fine brows and big, clear eyes, a delicate, handsome face.

Because of that, his first priority every day—other than studying physics and chemistry—was to go out and work. Every time he carried dishes to a table, some girls would look at him with either belittling eyes or secretly admiring ones. Then they’d tug on the arm of the angry boy next to them and awkwardly leave the restaurant.

“Hello, what can I get you today?”

Forcing a bright smile, Juxi went to greet his first customer that afternoon, a man who’d brought his girlfriend along.

But this first customer… looked anything but friendly. Probably because of his girlfriend’s gaze, his heart was full of irritation. The saying went, “Those who come with bad intent rarely bring good news.”

“Ahem, I want some abalone, shark fin, stuff like that. The rest, just order whatever. Here, this is your tip.”

The middle‑aged man leaned in close to Juxi’s ear and quietly told him not to meddle. Then he shoved a thick wad of bright red bills into Juxi’s hand, slung his arm around the little beauty’s fragrant shoulders, and staggered into a private room.

Staring at what was almost ten thousand yuan in cash, sweat the size of beans appeared on both Juxi’s palm and his forehead.

“T‑This is a bit too much, I—”

“What did you say?”

The man stormed back out of the private room, expression vicious, anger flaring.

“I’m telling you, this is just the tip. I’ll pay the meal bill at the front desk in a bit. Got it? Then get lost. Don’t come in again.”

Only then did Juxi finally get what he meant. Startled, he scrambled out of the private room in a panic. But the next second, he happily counted the money in his hand. Damn. It was exactly ten thousand three hundred. He really had run into a big spender.

Still, that guy’s attitude was awful. Dog eyes looking down on people. Whatever. He was probably some nouveau riche from who‑knows‑where… Sigh, girls always like rich men, right.

Around eleven at night, the Western restaurant where Tianhua worked closed for the day. Overjoyed, Juxi rushed to the bank and wired every last cent of the money back home to his grandparents, who lived alone.

“Phew, if only I could meet this kind of big spender every day, that’d be perfect.”

His imagination started to run away with him. He didn’t realize he’d already wandered to the main road in front of the bank, right at the start of an overpass.

Cars sped past on both sides, but he didn’t notice at all, not until the wind suddenly whooshed across his face.

“You looking to die? Get out of the—!!” The driver didn’t even finish yelling.

Bang!

His vision went black. In an instant, Juxi fell from a world of light into an abyss with no return. Everything seemed to lose its color. He could only watch helplessly as the hit‑and‑run driver’s car disappeared into the distance. Frowning hard, he used the last of his strength to shout.

“Don’t go, don’t leave me! I can still be saved!”

But the sound never made it out of his throat. It died right there.

“In my whole life, I, Ye Juxi, never did anything immoral. I respected my parents, cherished my elders, never stole, whored, or gambled. So why did I end up like this…”

The bustling street vanished, swallowed by pitch‑black starry sky and a sinking palace overhead. The ceiling was a skylight, scattered starlight dripping through. But Juxi’s consciousness and thoughts hadn’t completely faded. He wondered, did that uncle feel guilty, did his conscience wake up, and he came back to save me?

“No. You’re already a dead man.”

A ghostly voice shattered the tiny hope in Juxi’s heart. Cruel reality tore him apart completely.

(Wasteland Continent)

Mountains and forests were filled with clear springs and bright lakes, beautiful on the surface yet hiding a place where the Nine Nether Alliances converged.

Hidden here was the master of one of the Four Pavilions—the Sharp Wind Pavilion. Rumor had it that the pavilion had been created by the ancient Ling clan. Its founding ancestor was a master of the sword. The Sharp Wind Pavilion, famous for its “man and sword as one, shadows never part,” owed it all to him.

Even so, its ranking was lower than other schools. Yet its presence alone was enough to shake the powers of the age.

And now, no doubt, compared to the past, it was an entirely different story.

In Year 453 of the Heavenly Demon Era, the Sharp Wind Pavilion entered an unprecedented golden age. And all that glory could be traced back to a single person.

Before that, the pavilion had unexpectedly produced a prodigy. Out of ten bouts, he defeated eight of the elders whose cultivation and seniority were both extremely high. His growing fame spread throughout the martial world. His name—Ling Tianqing.

In Year 457 of the Wasteland Era, Ling Tianqing faced off against the empire’s Number One Sword Saint, Liu Yifei, on Sacred Origin Island, where ten thousand spirits converged and all living beings took root.

For seven days and seven nights, sword against sword, blade against blade, their battle raged on, victory undecided. In the end, the defeated Liu Yifei vanished without a trace on that island—the birthplace of the Immortal Emperor.

The imperial court lost an iron‑clad shield. Four years after Emperor Si lost his trusted aide Liu Yifei, the empire’s Second King, the Spirit Immortal King, took control of everything. Soon after Liu Yifei’s disappearance, he alone took over the Liuyi Guard that Emperor Si had originally ordered to be under Liu Yifei’s direct command. He also slaughtered countless loyal and virtuous officials, leaving a trail of blood‑soaked rumors across the continent. Even now, not even Emperor Si could do anything to him.

Alright, that’s enough story for now. Let’s get back to the main thread…

A clear flute melody drifted through mountains, waters, and bamboo groves, all the way to a fenced courtyard in front of a small thatched hut deep within the bamboo forest, where an old man and a youth were playing chess.

“Grandpa Ling, how do you know so much? And that… what was it, that ‘Huangshen’ thing?”

“Nonsense! Is your head filled only with food? It’s the Desolate Saint. Sigh, the young and ignorant can’t be blamed.”

Bamboo leaves and green moss whispered in the wind. In front lay a vast bamboo grove, behind a sheer rock cliff. Between them, at a stone table, sat an old man in a purple robe whose hair was slightly graying but whose face looked only forty or fifty, and a young boy with long, jet‑black hair. They chatted while playing Chinese chess.

The boy’s looks weren’t stunning, but his face always carried a gentle air, and there was heroic spirit between his brows. This was Juxi, now grown. Because he liked to run his mouth, the old man would occasionally rap him lightly on the forehead in warning.

“Grandpa Ling, do you and that Pavilion Master Ling have some kind of unresolved fate?”

“Oh? Why do you think that?”

Juxi grinned, then closed his eyes, swaying his head as if pondering deeply.

“You two have an amazing thing in common.”

The old man froze for a moment, his chess knight hovering in mid‑air for a couple of seconds, then chuckled.

“Heh, you twelve‑year‑old little brat. I’d love to hear what similarity you think you’ve found between us… Ah, horse jumps over the cannon. Check.”

“Hehe, my general escapes! That’s because…”

“Because what?”

The old man cupped his ear in an exaggerated pose of listening.

Juxi stuck out his tongue. “You’re both surnamed Ling, right?”

Looking at Juxi’s clueless, goofy expression, the old man couldn’t help laughing and shaking his head. He picked up his rook, crossed the river, invaded Juxi’s camp, and captured his cannon.

As he took the cannon, Grandpa Ling sighed. “What a pity. I do have some connection with Hero Gu, but it’s not nearly as simple as you think.”

“Ah! My cannon! Grandpa Ling, let me take one move back, okay? Or I’m not playing this game with you anymore!”

Tianhua, already distracted, stared anxiously at his dwindling troops and begged.

Grandpa Ling let out a helpless sigh, then shook his hand firmly.

“I’m not giving you this move back. Besides, this chess style was created by a master of an ancient military clan. It’s no different from real warfare.”

“Y‑Yeah, sure, sure,” Juxi muttered, face scrunched. “I’ve never beaten you once since I was a kid. Guess I’ll get used to losing.”

“What kind of way is that to talk? Didn’t you say you want to see the wonders of the continent? Then you have to endure countless defeats. On this continent, if you lose once, you might not get a second chance.”

Grandpa Ling and Juxi lived in a small village in the Northern Region, so Juxi knew very well how strong Grandpa Ling really was.

Someone of that level—how could he be living in a shabby little forest hut where even three meals a day weren’t guaranteed, scraping by in poverty?

This hut in the forest was Juxi’s hometown. He’d lived here with his mother since childhood. With Grandpa Ling’s skills, Juxi had never been threatened by bandits or thugs.

But sometimes Grandpa Ling’s movements were strange. He often went up the mountain alone at night, which worried the inexperienced Juxi.

Carrying all kinds of doubts, Juxi climbed the mountain under the moonlight illuminating the path, heading to the straw hut where Grandpa Ling had lived for years.

“Grandpa Ling~!!”

Grandpa Ling wasn’t home. That meant there was only one other place he could be.

Juxi circled around the hut and grabbed the rocks behind it, climbing upward toward the very top of the mountain.

This was the place where he’d first met Grandpa Ling. Juxi glanced down at the bottomless abyss beneath him and swallowed hard, then took three deep breaths.

“If it weren’t for this place, Grandpa and I would’ve stayed strangers, huh…”