Chapter 684: The Cycle of Revival

“Are you ready to face the hardships of life? You’ll meet many people, make enemies, maybe even fall in love with someone, but in the end, it might not turn out the way you want. Even knowing that, do you still want to go?”

An Xin looked at An Zizai and asked softly.

Hearing this, An Zizai was overjoyed—his master had finally relented.

“Gains and losses are both part of my fate. I just want to see the world. It’s not about getting anything in return.”

An Zizai looked up at his master and answered seriously.

Seeing the look in his eyes, An Xin sighed. She took out her treasured artifact, the Six Paths Mirror, and handed it to An Zizai.

“This is my treasure. I’ll lend it to you. Go visit Martial Uncle Chen Chuan. Show him this mirror, and he’ll agree to meet you. Just tell him that I want you to follow him and learn the sword.”

An Zizai accepted the Six Paths Mirror. Just as he was about to speak, An Xin handed him a jade pendant, saying it would help guide his way.

“Go now. Otherwise, I might change my mind.”

An Xin’s expression was calm.

Gu An turned around and looked at An Zizai, chuckling. “Look at how angry you made your master. Truly rebellious!”

An Zizai had been feeling grateful to him for those earlier words, but now that gratitude vanished into thin air.

“Master, I’ll come back!”

An Zizai immediately knelt and bowed deeply to An Xin, then stood and shot Gu An a glare before turning and leaving.

An Xin watched as An Zizai disappeared into the distant sky. Then she silently bowed to Gu An and left without another word.

Gu An didn’t try to comfort her. Instead, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, as though he were watching a show.

“People always yearn for freedom. The harder things get, the stronger that desire becomes.”

Gu An spoke idly to himself. He had taken in many disciples and understood this well.

But no matter what, everyone had to walk their own path. Since An Xin wanted to take on a disciple, she’d have to face the trials of their heart—because a disciple was still a person, with thoughts and choices of their own.

Just then, the fishing rod trembled—finally, a fish had taken the bait.

Gu An gripped the rod with both hands, beginning a battle of wits and strength with the fish in the lake.

Water splashed into the air, sprinkling the nearby leaves. Sunlight shimmered on the droplets, making them glow like they held tiny worlds within.

With An Zizai gone, the Wushi Dao Field became quiet once again.

The other disciples began entering seclusion one after another.

But for Gu An, it didn’t matter whether the Dao Field was lively or not. To him, time only moved faster and faster.

Eight hundred years later.

Gu An returned to the same spot to fish. While waiting for a bite, he held another book in his other hand.

The sun was bright, casting rippling light over the lake. A breeze rustled his hair.

A figure emerged from the forest behind him—a man in plain traveler’s robes, hair unkempt, face weathered, and stubble on his chin.

His eyes held a deep sorrow.

It was An Zizai.

Compared to eight hundred years ago, he was like a different person.

The youthful pride was gone. Now he gave off a sense of weariness.

Staring at Gu An’s back, An Zizai felt dazed, his gaze shifting slightly.

He suddenly remembered the day he had left. Back then, his grandmaster had been fishing here too, with his back to him—just like now.

That silhouette hadn’t changed at all.

It felt like he had stepped through time.

“Disciple greets Grandmaster.”

An Zizai walked up behind Gu An and bowed deeply, his tone filled with a quiet sorrow.

“It’s good you came back.”

Gu An replied with a single line, without turning to look at him.

He already knew what An Zizai had gone through over the years. To Gu An, eight hundred years felt like just a single day, but for many, that span of time was a long, endless era.

In those eight hundred years, An Zizai had experienced too much. He had witnessed the tragic deaths of his sworn brothers and the one he loved. He failed to protect those who trusted him. The constant, crushing blows left him stripped of his former drive.

If not for An Xin’s Six Paths Mirror protecting him, he would have died countless times.

An Zizai looked up at Gu An, took a deep breath, and asked, “Grandmaster, is there truly such a thing as justice in this world? Why is it that some people commit so many evil deeds, yet still enjoy admiration and support from the world? Even when their sects know the truth, they still cover it up for them?”

He was talking about a senior cultivator in the Dao Repository Free Immortal Realm from the Beidou Sect—one of the Hundred Mortal Teachings.

That senior cultivator's disciple acted in his name, capturing mortals among the common folk and even some cultivators—committing all sorts of atrocities. An Zizai and his friends had intervened upon witnessing these crimes, which offended the disciple and triggered a long chain of enmity.

An Zizai was hunted for over one hundred years, spent another hundred years in hiding, and only managed to kill that disciple after great effort. But after that, he learned the truth. Faced with suppression from a Dao Repository Free Immortal, he was powerless—he could only watch as the people he cared about died.

The Beidou Sect even sent people to kill him. If he hadn’t escaped to Chen Chuan’s Sword Sect in time, he would’ve been erased from existence.

Sword Sect was far inferior to Beidou Sect. It was only because the legacy of Wushi still echoed in the world that Beidou didn’t dare go too far.

“The path of cultivation isn’t about a single moment. What you’ve seen is just one fragment of the vast mortal world. Look again after many years—the answers to your doubts will be clear. Those evildoers who seem so powerful now will eventually be destroyed. As for right and wrong, future generations will judge for themselves.”

Gu An replied casually.

For disciples who left the Dao Field, he would only protect their lives. He would never interfere with their revenge.

If An Zizai wanted vengeance, then he would have to earn it through his own cultivation.

An Zizai’s eyes flickered with a complex light. He continued, “Grandmaster, you’ve lived through countless years. In your view, is this world ruled by justice or by survival of the fittest?”

“Looking back through history, no matter who laughed last, they all had to raise the banner of justice in the end. That means that at least in this world, justice is what all living beings long for—and no one can deny that.”

This was the most patient Gu An had ever been with An Zizai. No teasing, no sarcasm—he seriously answered every question.

An Zizai fell silent.

A thought quietly surfaced in his mind—

He could kneel and beg Grandmaster for help in taking revenge.

If the Beidou Sect would stand up for their disciples, maybe his Grandmaster would too.

But that thought vanished as quickly as it came.

After all, the enmity with Beidou Sect, regardless of how unjust they were, began because he chose to intervene.

What’s more, his Grandmaster and Master both hadn’t wanted him to leave in the first place. It was he who insisted on going out to temper himself.

Sometimes, he wondered—if he hadn’t gone, would those people still be alive?

The more he thought about it, the more it hurt. His chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe.

“I could go into the cycle of reincarnation and find everyone you care about. I could bring them back to life.

But you need to think about something—they might have better lives in their next reincarnations, or they might suffer even more. You can’t predict what their future will hold.”

Gu An’s voice drifted over, causing An Zizai’s face to shift dramatically. His eyes filled with disbelief.

Go into reincarnation?

Bring them back to life?

An Zizai always knew Grandmaster was powerful, but just how powerful—he never had a clear sense.

Now, after hearing those words, he was shaken to his core.

It felt like the entire world suddenly lit up before his eyes.