Free Web NovelThe night had grown deep.
Autumn insects chirped weakly from within the bamboo grove, and a waning crescent moon hung high in the sky, casting its cold silver radiance upon the blue bricks and gray roof tiles.
The lamps in the old residence had long been extinguished, and the family had all fallen into deep slumber. Only the occasional heavy breaths and mumbled sleep-talk sounded especially clear in the tranquil night.
Su Ming was not asleep.
He pushed open his door silently, stepping out to the center of the courtyard onto the bluestone slab.
Under the moonlight, his expression was stern and focused, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, while within him, spiritual energy raced swiftly through his meridians.
With a flick of his wrist, three palm-sized, dark-gray blank formation plates appeared in his palm. These were made from scrap material he had refined from discarded Sinking Star Iron ore slag while at the Cloud Hidden Sect's Repair Hall. The material was tough and resilient, and naturally carried a faint property that could block divine sense probing.
Su Ming took a deep breath, a faint blue light flickering in his eyes.
He did not use any engraving knife. Instead, he pressed his index and middle fingers together. A single drop of dense, almost solid, blue water-attribute spiritual energy gathered at his fingertips, forming a brush tip.
Shua!
Su Ming's figure moved like a phantom, appearing at the northeast corner of the courtyard.
His fingertip touched the first formation plate. The liquid spiritual energy, guided by his finger, quickly traced across the surface of the hard Sinking Star Iron, carving an extremely complex pattern of lines.
It was a variant of the "Solidify" rune, combined with the principles of earth vein channeling he had comprehended from *The True Meaning of Basic Rune Deconstruction*. Instead of forcefully embedding the plate into the ground, he activated the *Like Water Art*, letting the spiritual energy seep into the soil like liquid mercury, seeking out the most subtle veins of earth energy beneath the surface.
Then, acting according to the momentum, he perfectly embedded the formation plate into the node of the earth veins, like planting a seed.
"Chi—"
An extremely faint sound, and the first plate vanished entirely beneath the soil without a single ripple of spiritual energy leaking out.
Next came the southwest corner of the courtyard, and then the spirit screen directly facing the main gate.
Three plates, arranged in a Three Talents formation, perfectly enveloped the entire Su family's old residence.
After finishing all this, a fine layer of sweat had broken out on his forehead. Even for a Foundation Establishment cultivator, controlling earth veins and composite formation patterns with such precision was an immense drain.
But he did not stop.
Su Ming walked to the stone steps before the main room's entrance, tilted his head back, and looked up at the thick load-bearing beam above the doorway.
He took out another piece of wood from his chest—the remaining core of Soul Nourishing Wood left over from Lin Yu.
Su Ming held the piece in his palm and closed his eyes.
The spiritual energy of the *Like Water Art* transformed into the gentlest threads of water, wrapping the wood layer by layer in a final process of warming and consecration. Inside the wood, he carved a miniature "Lead" talisman. Then, he drew a drop of essence blood and let the wood absorb it. This was a secret technique used by the sect when assigning cave dwellings—if the formation was ever breached, he would definitely sense it at the Cloud Hidden Sect.
A full incense stick's time passed before Su Ming opened his eyes.
He flicked his finger.
Swoosh!
The piece of wood shot out like a streak of light, embedding itself precisely into the most hidden mortise and tenon gap on the beam.
After doing all this, Su Ming stood silently in the center of the courtyard.
Moonlight flowed like water, gently spilling over the gray tiles, onto the bare branches of the old locust tree, and onto the bluestone steps in front of the main room.
A night breeze brushed by, carrying the familiar scent of earth and firewood.
Everything was so quiet, so warm, so deeply missed.
Su Ming slowly closed his eyes.
In his heart, using a voice only he could hear, he spoke silently:
Father, Mother, Second Brother, Eldest Brother.
I've left this barrier for you. This is the last thing I do on this visit.
I cannot come back to see you often, because my very existence is a danger. But at least, with this formation in place, and with Second Brother's skill, you can live peacefully, in wealth and comfort, in the cracks of this chaotic age.
A hundred years from now, when you have turned to dust, perhaps I will still look this young.
But in this life, to have been your son, your brother—
Su Ming has no regrets.
...
The sky was just barely beginning to lighten.
A very faint strip of fish-belly white was just turning on the eastern horizon. The deep autumn morning dew was heavy, wetting the bluestone slabs in the courtyard, giving them a cold, watery sheen.
Su Ming did not disturb anyone.
He did not pack any luggage, for he had come with nothing in the first place.
He pushed open his door without a sound. His footsteps were as light as weightless, just like when he had set up the formation the night before.
He walked to the courtyard gate and pressed his hands against the two heavy, black-lacquered wooden doors.
Just before pulling open the bolt, Su Ming stopped.
He turned around, casting one last gaze upon this courtyard that had held all the joys and sorrows of his youth.
The side rooms, the main hall, the stove, the old locust tree.
He wanted to carve these images deep into his mind, into the depths of his soul.
Just then.
"Creak—"
The heavy wooden door of the main hall let out an extremely faint sound, yet in the silence of this early morning, it was unmistakably clear.
The door was slowly pushed open from within.
Su Ming's body stiffened abruptly.
From the crack in the door emerged a hunched figure.
It was his father.
Su Shan was wearing a half-worn, coarse cloth cotton jacket, and in his hand, he still tightly clutched the old tobacco pipe that had accompanied him for half his life.
He did not walk toward Su Ming. He did not utter a single word of persuasion.
He just stood there silently at the entrance to the main hall, at the boundary between the cold morning light and the shadow of the room.
His bloodshot, clouded eyes stared fixedly at Su Ming, who stood at the courtyard gate.
Father and son, separated by a dozen paces, silently gazed at each other in the faint light before the dawn.
There were no tears, no words of advice, no sorrow of parting.
There was only a deep, bone-deep understanding—the kind that belongs between men.
Su Ming looked at the old man whose spine had been bent by the years.
Slowly, he took a step back.
Then, he flipped the hem of his washed-out, gray, long robe.
On the dew-covered bluestone slab, he dropped to both knees.
He pressed his hands to the ground, arching his back into a respectful curve. Toward the old man standing on the threshold, he lowered his head deeply and kowtowed.
The bluestone slab was cold.
This bow was for the grace of birth and upbringing.
This bow severed the karma of the mortal world.
At the entrance of the main hall, the father watched his son kneeling on the ground.
The hand holding the tobacco pipe trembled slightly.
Then, slowly yet solemnly, he nodded.
It was a father's final response to his son, who was about to journey far away.
It was acceptance of this weighty bow. It was also the complete release of the kite string tied to his son.
Su Ming rose to his feet.
He did not say another word. He did not show any further sign of weakness.
He turned around and, with both hands, pulled open the heavy, black-lacquered wooden door.
Outside, there was the bone-piercing cold of the deep autumn morning on the long street.
Su Ming stepped over the threshold and replaced the wide bamboo hat on his head, concealing his eyes, which had already regained their demeanor as still as an ancient well.
He strode forward.
He walked a very long way.
Until he was almost at the corner of the street.
Finally, Su Ming couldn't help it. He stopped.
He turned his head slightly, looking back out of the corner of his eye—
The two black-lacquered wooden doors were still wide open.
At the courtyard gate, his father had somehow come out to stand.
He was still there, maintaining that hunched posture, holding the tobacco pipe in his hand.
A wisp of bluish-gray smoke rose in the cold morning air.
He was smoking his pipe, calmly and quietly, his gaze passing across the long street, seeing off the gray figure disappearing into the thin mist.
Just at that moment, the first ray of the rising sun crossed the wall and fell upon that hunched silhouette.
So quiet, so warm, yet so far away.
Su Ming withdrew his gaze.
He turned around, took a deep breath of the cool morning air. At this moment, the Foundation Establishment spiritual energy within him seemed to shatter some invisible constraint, becoming purer and more perfect than ever before.
With a heart unburdened, one can achieve immortality.
He strode forward, heading in the direction away from home, toward that path destined for solitude yet vast and magnificent—the long road of immortality.
