Volume One: Youths Meet in Their Humble Days Chapter Eighty-Two: Li Xiyu, Long Time No See

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Under the shroud of night, all was silent; in the town of Tianmen, there was no moon, only the infinite stretch of stars. The starlight was too faint to dispel the heavy, boundless darkness, allowing all hidden currents and clandestine plots to remain well concealed beneath the veil of night.

After leaving Xu Kaijiang’s home, Li Yu carried no lantern, choosing instead to walk by the scant light of the stars. He was unafraid of darkness; after so many nights spent traveling beneath its cover, he had come to think of himself as part of it. No one knew that deep within his heart lay a shadow as dark as the night itself.

When he reached a sparse copse of trees, a figure emerged from the woods, hidden within the darkness, making no move to reveal himself. Yet Li Yu recognized him at a glance.

“You’re quite bold, daring to return alone,” the figure said.

Li Yu, no longer flustered as he had been in the daylight, answered coolly, “If I hadn’t come alone, would you have shown yourself?”

The other man chuckled meaningfully. “So you knew all along that I know who you are?”

“Does it matter whether you know or not? Would you really have passed up the chance to investigate me?” Li Yu retorted.

“You’re right. Even if I wasn’t sure it was you, after watching you all afternoon, you’re almost exactly like the person I once knew.” As he spoke, all the careless levity vanished from his tone, replaced by solemn gravity.

The night wind stirred, throwing shifting shadows across his face; starlight dappled his features, revealing, in rare glimpses, an expression of venomous malice.

“I knew I couldn’t hide from you, nor did I intend to. My slight attempt at concealment during the day was simply to buy us both a little time. Besides, you wouldn’t want me exposed to them, would you?” Li Yu replied with a cold laugh.

By the faint starlight, he had already caught the other’s every expression; knowing Li Xiqing as he did, Li Yu was certain that his adversary would never let him go so easily.

To Li Xiqing, Li Yu’s very existence was a threat within the family, or perhaps a weapon for others to use against him. If someone were to uncover the truth, he could be accused of murdering his own kin.

“You’re right. That’s why I let you go so easily during the day. But now, it’s time we caught up. Li Xiyu, it’s been a long, long time!”

As the other called him by his former name, Li Yu’s brows knit in displeasure. He replied coldly, “I am no longer called Li Xiyu. Don’t use that name, your family’s title means nothing to me. I find it filthy.”

Li Xiqing sneered. “What do you call yourself now? Li Yu? How fitting. After all, your very existence is superfluous.”

“Whether I’m superfluous or not is not for you to decide. And are you sure that the person I once was won’t someday become the person you are? The Li family is nothing more than a cold-blooded clan that values talent and strength above all. Should you fail to progress, or lose your proudest gift—the power over spirits—who’s to say you won’t follow in my footsteps?” Li Yu spoke from the heart.

After escaping from the Li family at Tianshan, he had wandered for years. Had he not later encountered kind and gentle souls, who could say what would have become of him? There was a time when he resented fate for making him a member of the Li clan, but later he was grateful—if not for that, he would never have experienced all he had, nor met Granny, his master, Lu Ming, or the Shen siblings.

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With these people, warmth had finally returned to Li Yu’s heart—a light strong enough to drive out the darkness within.

Li Xiqing seemed utterly unconcerned, never once considering that he might one day share Li Yu’s fate. He scrutinized Li Yu, noting the faint aura of a true spirit about him, and remarked with curiosity and greed, “It seems you’ve had your share of fortune since fleeing the Li family. To have subdued a true spirit dragon on the verge of transcendence…”

For the Spirit Tamers, power was measured by the number and strength of true spirits one could subdue; the more, the stronger one became, and the greater the aid to oneself. Among spirit beasts, dragons and phoenixes were the most prized; to subdue them required not only mastery of the art but extraordinary luck to encounter such beings.

A true spirit dragon on the verge of ascension was rare beyond measure.

Though Li Yu had never formally studied the arts of spirit taming, he had read every book the Li family possessed and knew all their secrets. He regarded Li Xiqing warily. “Don’t covet what doesn’t belong to you, or you may not live to enjoy it.”

“Whether it belongs to me or not, I’ll have to try and see.” As he spoke, a strange rune materialized in Li Xiqing’s palm. Others might not recognize it, but Li Yu did: it was an ancient character—Yù, to command. To form the ancient script of command proved that his skill in spirit taming had reached a certain level.

Yet the rune glimmered faintly, its light pale and weak. Noting Li Xiqing’s ashen pallor, Li Yu quickly realized that his rival’s power was greatly diminished here in Tianmen.

He recalled conversations with his master about how the Li family was suppressed in this town, and found his wariness of them much reduced.

The rune flew from Li Xiqing’s hand, aiming to envelop Li Yu’s head.

Li Xiqing had chosen his move well: if Li Yu bore the aura of a true spirit, the Li family’s rune could forcibly extract it.

In Li Xiqing’s mind, stripping Li Yu of his true spirit would eliminate him as a threat.

Had Li Yu relied only on the Dragon God technique, Li Xiqing’s plan might have succeeded. What he did not know was that Li Yu had also studied swordsmanship taught by a wandering Daoist.

As the rune approached, Li Yu’s whole form was enveloped in fierce sword energy, which coalesced before him into a phantom, formless blade. This spectral sword exuded the chill of autumn winds and the withering of all things.

Though he had not formally embarked on the path of cultivation these seven years, Li Yu had devoted himself daily to practicing the sword skills the Daoist had taught him—three hundred and sixty forms, each concealing a different Daoist art.

The sword aura he conjured now manifested one such art: the Autumn Reaping.

The phantom sword, born of the Autumn Reaping, collided with Li Xiqing’s rune. Under its relentless corrosion, the rune dissipated quickly and utterly.

Their exchange ended in utter silence. Yet the conclusions they drew were starkly different.

Li Yu realized that the Li family’s power was indeed suppressed in Tianmen, and thus could not threaten him as before. Li Xiqing, on the other hand, saw that—given his current strength—silently killing Li Yu in this place would not be so easy.

“You’ve even mastered the sword?” Li Xiqing exclaimed, face dark with anger.

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Li Yu brushed his sleeve, as if flicking away dust that wasn’t there, and replied indifferently, “The Li family may lack discernment, but others know a hidden gem when they see one.”

With that, Li Yu turned to leave. After several steps, he added, “And I will not return to the Li family. You may as well consider me dead. I won’t go out of my way to cross your path; let us hope we never meet again, in life or in death.”

His words made his stance clear, but would the other heed them? Li Yu doubted it; he knew Li Xiqing too well. The man never gave up once he set his sights on something. Still, he hoped to warn him—given the current situation in Tianmen, it would be unwise to provoke him further. Best they act as strangers, and once the matter of Tianmen was settled, Li Xiqing could return to his role as the Li family’s favored son, never to cross paths with him again.

Both men believed their confrontation had gone unseen.

Neither knew that, hidden in the darkness, another silent observer had watched everything unfold.

Li Yan, after trailing Li Xiqing and Li Yu earlier that day, had begun to suspect the true identity of the latter. His instincts told him that anyone with such a connection to Li Xiqing—who treated him as an enemy—must indeed be a formidable foe.

Recalling an old case that once circulated in the Li family, Li Yan compared the details to Li Yu, and found the resemblance uncanny. Seeing those gray eyes tonight, identical to those from the past, left him with no doubt: the man calling himself Li Yu was once Li Xiyu.

Moreover, judging by their relationship, it seemed likely that Li Xiqing had played a part in Li Xiyu’s supposed death. Only that would explain Li Xiqing’s anxiety over his existence.

The Li family’s strictest rule forbade kin from killing one another. The penalty was severe—loss of all powers and status at best, lifelong imprisonment at worst. All punishment and reward were decided by the family’s disciplinary hall; private vengeance was forbidden.

Li Yan surmised that Li Xiyu’s faked death was almost certainly tied to Li Xiqing. If he could find proof, he might wield it to great effect in the future.

Watching Li Yu’s departing figure, Li Yan’s eyes gleamed with a barely suppressed excitement. “Thank you,” he murmured to himself. “This is worth far more than any rare treasure.”

Had Li Xiqing truly not considered Li Yu’s warning? He had, in fact. With his current strength, quietly erasing Li Yu was nearly impossible. Yet he dared not leave such a threat at large—if the family discovered the truth and recognized Li Yu, all his past crimes would come to light.

Would he then have any peace?

At that thought, he made his decision: he could not let Li Yu go.

He did not know that this very decision would cost him his life in Tianmen, where he would indeed enter, never to return.