Chapter 569 - 579: The Final Battle

Fang Huatong gazed at Wen Qingye’s star-bright eyes and couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, "Is he just arrogant and conceited? Or does he actually have some skill?"

The Great Elder of the Jade Maiden Sect chuckled. "How could that be? For Wen Qingye to surpass Yanm Fang in musical ability... I think that’s impossible. You know how difficult it is to play ’The Moon.’ A piece like that clears the mind, invigorates the spirit, and solidifies one’s cultivation. If you had to grade it, it would be considered an Emperor-grade High-level composition. Besides, I’ve watched her carefully. Yanm Fang’s Zither Dao has reached at least the second level of the Earthly Realm."

Wen Qingye looked at the Phoenix Tail Zither before him, and an image, hazy and ethereal, subconsciously surfaced in his mind.

She... Her brows were like blades, her temples as if carved by a knife. In red robes, she was endlessly alluring; in martial attire, she was cold and imperious. When drinking heavily, she was free and unrestrained; in her bearing, she was dignified and poised. She could sit on the floor, killing foes with a flick of her fingers, completely unfazed. She could stand proudly amidst the clouds, her captivating smile making her seem a transcendent immortal.

DING! DONG!

Wen Qingye’s fingers began to move, plucking the strings as if of their own accord. The notes rang out like the cry of a phoenix from the highest heavens, echoing throughout the entire hall.

For some unknown reason, everyone felt the hairs on their arms stand up. It was a tremor that came from the depths of their souls, a sound that resonated within their very hearts.

A sharp pain suddenly shot through Wen Qingye’s mind.

A vision appeared: Atop a boundless sea of clouds, auspicious clouds drifted and colorful mists curled. The clouds of the ninth heaven churned restlessly within the Cyan Netherworld. Amidst that swirling vapor, golden-glazed halls soared into the air, standing majestic and tall.

On a square, raised platform, the figure held a jar of wine. A charming smile played on her lips as she gazed ahead. "Longevity," she said, "we’ve known each other for a long time now, haven’t we?"

Wen Qingye—no, the Longevity Immortal Monarch—stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the vast, boundless sky. "Yes," he said. "We have known each other since the end of antiquity."

The woman said, "You were already in seclusion. I didn’t want to disturb you as you faced your own tribulation. But you must know... this vast Eastern Immortal Court is on the verge of falling apart. And I... I’m getting tired."

At this, the woman raised the wine jar and took a long drink.

"I know how you suffer. I never should have just walked away." A complex look filled the Longevity Immortal Monarch’s eyes as he nodded. "Your tribulation is also fast approaching. With this great upheaval on top of it all, I can understand the pressure you’re under. It seems that by relying on the Western Immortal Court, they’ve already seized control of everything, haven’t they?"

"Longevity!"

"What is it?"

"You should know... I cultivate the Dao of Destiny. I have divined your fate."

Hearing this, the Longevity Immortal Monarch couldn’t help but laugh. "My fate? What about your own fate? Have you divined that?"

The woman replied seriously, "My fate lies in your hands."

The Longevity Immortal Monarch’s brow furrowed at her words. He was about to speak, but she cut him off.

The woman raised the wine jar, tilted her head back, and poured the liquid into her crimson lips. "This life may not be over, but my heart is no longer troubled. I’d gladly trade it for half a lifetime of carefree freedom. As for the next life... who can say? My grievances with them are like smoke in the wind. Let it all scatter. Let them have the Eastern Immortal Court. For now, all I want is to drink and sing and be happy to the very end."

The clear wine trickled down from her charming, flushed cheeks, tracing a path along her fair neck.

The Longevity Immortal Monarch watched her, a myriad of thoughts racing through his mind as he sighed to himself. ’Is it really as simple as you think? They won’t just let this go.’

...

Weep to your heart’s content today, and laugh with abandon tomorrow. Seek no one’s understanding, just wear your pride.

Wen Qingye lowered his head to look at the zither strings, his fingers playing subconsciously. The melody flowed like moving water, seamless and perfect from beginning to end.

Everyone was immersed in the intoxicating melody, as if they had forgotten all their troubles. All grievances and sorrows dissolved into nothingness, their hearts left to contemplate life’s endless cycle of joy and sorrow, parting and reunion.

The troubles of the mortal world are best met with a simple laugh.

An unknown amount of time passed.

Fang Huatong finally came back to his senses. The music had stopped. Wen Qingye was sitting cross-legged beside the Phoenix Tail Zither, his head lowered as he gazed at its strings. All around them, everyone else was still lost, seemingly immersed in the world the melody had created.

"Master Wen, what... what is the name of that composition?"

Jiechen’s trembling voice abruptly shattered the hall’s silence. Everyone jolted back to their senses, turning to stare in astonishment at Wen Qingye, whose head was still bowed.

"Laughing at the Red Dust," Wen Qingye murmured subconsciously.

Laughing at the Red Dust!

The words had escaped Wen Qingye’s lips without thought, as if the piece were so familiar it had been etched into his very bones.

An Elder from the Jade Maiden Sect exclaimed excitedly, "The title and the spirit of the song are in perfect harmony! This composition is a masterpiece for the ages! No—it’s utterly unique, one of a kind!"

Everyone fell silent, as if savoring the lingering melody, but also silently concurring with the Elder’s words.

As the disciples of the Jade Maiden Sect looked at Wen Qingye, the image of that stunningly beautiful figure from the vision seemed to surface in their own minds, striking the most tender depths of their hearts.

In that moment, they truly saw the man sitting before them, head bowed—his transcendent aura, his free and unrestrained spirit.

Yanm Fang stared at Wen Qingye and shook her head, utterly crestfallen. "Where on earth did Wen Qingye come from?" she murmured. "He’s so brilliant... so dazzlingly talented that one doesn’t even dare to challenge him, or even meet his gaze."

"That composition is truly incredible. Even I must praise it. My cultivation, which has been stagnant for so long, actually showed signs of loosening." Ling Tianyu’s eyes narrowed. He then asked, "Now that Wen Qingye has won first place in two of the contests, what about this final one you mentioned? The test of strength?"

"You must defeat Wen Qingye directly," Yanm Fang said, a bitter smile touching her lips. "And after you defeat him, you must leave him unable to fight the other two contestants. Otherwise, if he wins even one of his matches among the three of you, then..."

She had originally gone to the Celestial Profound Sect with the intent to recruit Wen Qingye. Just a few days ago, she had been feeling quite pleased with herself that Ling Tianyu had offered his help. But now, it seemed all her plans were turning to ash.

’It was as if I’d cast a priceless pearl into the darkness.’

Fang Huatong shot to his feet and announced in a booming voice, "This composition will undoubtedly be passed down through the ages, a timeless classic! I never imagined Young Hero Wen could perform such a piece with such profound artistic depth. It is completely beyond all expectations! I believe the result of this contest needs no further comment from me!"

Everyone nodded emphatically. Not a single person voiced any objection.

"Sigh."

Wen Qingye sighed softly. As he raised his head, the ancient, sea-deep sorrow in his eyes vanished in an instant. A faint smile touched his lips as he slowly walked over to Youu Junlian’s side.

’If I ever make it back in this life, I wonder if the Eastern Immortal Court will even exist anymore?’

Youu Junlian looked at Wen Qingye and grinned. "If I didn’t know I wasn’t your type, I’d spend the rest of my life clinging to you."

"Senior Sister Youu, you’re joking again," Wen Qingye replied with a laugh.

Youu Junlian waved a hand. "I’m serious."