Chapter 400 - Knowing The Ending
“I think you might have the wrong person,” I told the strange old man.
“Oh, you’re as clever as always,” he said. “It’s hard to change that, no matter how far into the past or the future we look.”
“If you’re looking to change some kind of prophecy, we can try to change it together. After all, I seem to be involved in it,” I told him, knowing that fighting against him was useless.
Even Song Song, who was usually reckless as hell, was calmer than normal and hadn’t made any movements that would indicate she was about to attack or try anything.
“Then how would you go about changing the fate of someone who was read by an immortal technique? Those techniques are always absolute, so there is usually no chance of changing the fates they reveal. I’ve tried many ways, from staying out of the way, keeping my consciousness outside the world, hiding in minor worlds, taking over other bodies, and even trying to force myself forward in time through reincarnation, where it would normally be untouched in the river of time,” he said, running a hand through his silver white hair. “But my fate has never changed. I will die in the same place, at the same time, and be killed by the same person. So what do you make of that?”
Okay, so someone else had read his fate. Why was he coming after me? It was like someone being murdered, and instead of becoming a vengeful ghost that haunted the killer, they went after the killer’s lawyer.
“Who was the one who read your fate?” I asked.
After all, from my limited knowledge and basic reasoning, I had the feeling that even immortals wouldn’t be foolish enough to willingly have their fates read by such a technique. So this had to be forced upon him.
“Nope,” he shook his head, speaking in a bit of modern lingo, perhaps something he had picked up from my future self. “The way I read my own fate is because my immortal technique lets me communicate with my past and future selves. Creating a never-ending loop. But your future self killed me.”
“It was an alternate timeline. These futures are like imaginary branches that only become real when the present catches up with them,” I reasoned.
He must have had his reasons for coming here, and why he hadn’t immediately tried to rip my head off.
When I initially thought that something had been prophesied, I assumed fate was working against me in one way or another. But now it seemed quite the opposite, fate was working in my favor.
But how was it going to get me out of this?
“No. Immortal techniques are things that make illusionary branches real by forcing reality to comply with what has been divined. And despite all my efforts, nothing has changed… it is all the same,” he said. “I thought things had changed when I saw you had an extra girl in your team. But now that I can no longer get information from my future self, things seem blurry, but still the same as always.”
Well, it seemed like there was nothing more to say, and my chances of surviving against an immortal were nonexistent.
“Everyone,” I turned toward my team. “It is about time you all go back.”
Though I was looking at them, I was not staring at their faces. I would not like to see what expressions they were making.
“No, I will–” Wu Yan began to speak, a brave look on her face that was eerily similar to mine.
“Do not try to be stupidly brave. I hate emotional people who end up getting two people killed when just one dying would be enough,” I told her, then glanced at Song Song.
Even Song Song, who had been with me for so long, kept staring at me, looking for an answer. But I shook my head. However, she was someone who knew me better than most, and perhaps she understood parts of me better than I did. The corner of her lips tugged.
“Come, Wu Yan. It seems like someone has sealed their fate,” she said.
I almost smiled, but held it back.
This man had seen someone who looked like me in the future kill him. But how much could he trust that? After all, there was someone in our team who could completely change her appearance and even make her Qi emit similar signals due to her element of “change.”
If I died here, Wu Yan was exactly the kind of dramatic person who would kill this man by transforming into me.
Sure, I could go out there and reveal this to the time-traveling rabbit. But what good would that do? I was not going to push Wu Yan under the bus. My moral compass might have shifted since I came to this world, but Wu Yan was someone dear to me.
Though it would be a lie to say I wasn’t tempted by the idea. After all, I would like to see my kids grow up. But… whatever.
Also, an emotional decision might end up getting all of us killed. If he learned that one of us could transform, he might simply kill us both to be safe.
On top of that, it made more sense for Wu Yan to be the one to kill this man. She was the kind of person with the potential to become an immortal and the ability to kill someone like this crazy old man.
“We are not retreating,” said Song Song. “My father is the Blood Step Immortal.”
Huh, never thought I would see Song Song acting like a young master.
I should have looked away, as she might have read my expression and realized I had no plans.
“So? What is that ancient mummy supposed to do?” the old man asked, a sharp edge entering his tone.
“I’m supposed to be his next vessel, and if he dies,” Song Song pointed at me with her thumb, “then I die too. How do you think it will feel to create an eternal enmity with an immortal who can change bodies and never truly be killed?”
“Your father is not that impressive, little girl, and it has been a while since he was a threat to anyone,” the old man concluded. Throughout their exchange, he had not looked at Song Song even once.
I stared at Song Song and held her gaze. She sighed and turned away, beginning to walk back.
Surprisingly, the only one who didn’t move was Jiang Yeming.
She stood there, staring at the old man head-on.
“What are you waiting for, my least favorite student? I hope you do not do one last disappointing thing and put your life on the line for nothing,” I warned her.
She was the one who started this whole ordeal, but it had also been my choice to come here. Sooner or later, I would have been caught with my pants down. After all, who knew how long this man had been waiting for me to arrive? Eventually, I would have come even without Jiang Yeming nudging me.
But she only glanced at me briefly before turning back to the old man.
“It was the Bookworm Immortal who killed you, right?” she asked.
“Bookworm Immortal? Who is that?” the old man replied.
Now it was Jiang Yeming’s turn to be surprised, her eyes widening like plates.
Bookworm Immortal? That was a lame name for someone who had stepped past the final stage of cultivation.
The way Jiang Yeming spoke about it, this Bookworm Immortal should be someone everyone in her timeline knew about. It may even be me, judging by how this conversation was unfolding. There was also a chance it was Wu Yan disguised as me.
Either way, an interesting discovery had been made from this exchange. There was a clear difference between their timelines.
I had always been curious about what would happen if two immortal-grade divination techniques produced different results. It was like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.
Though interesting, the conclusion seemed somewhat underwhelming. I had expected the world to be torn apart or something equally dramatic. But instead, it seemed like there were simply two branches in the future, where before, there had only been one created by the first immortal technique.
The old man sat by the fire as if he had nowhere else to be.
The flames crackled quietly between us, licking at a small stick he used to roast something that looked suspiciously like a marshmallow. The smell was oddly sweet for a place like the Misty Mountains.
I watched him for a moment before sighing.
“You should just get it over with,” I told him.
He didn’t even look up.
“It won’t work,” Jiang Yeming said beside me.
Whatever I was about to say next, I paused.
What was my lovely disciple up to now? Was she going to mess up another situation, thinking she knew everything because of the future?
Jiang Yeming stepped forward slightly, her voice calm but firm.
“The Misty Mountains are somewhat of a dead zone when it comes to fate and divination,” she said. “Most techniques can’t see clearly here. But immortal techniques are different. They exist above that interference.”
The old man slowly lowered the stick.
“What would you know about such complicated things–” He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes finally lifted to her face. And stayed there.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he murmured, almost to himself, “How did someone like you even come to exist?”
His gaze drifted past her, looking at the rest of us one by one. “How did a team like you even come together?”
Jiang Yeming’s expression hardened.
She stepped forward and slammed her hand against the ground.
“Wake from death to complete your ancestor’s oath.”
The earth cracked.
A skeleton burst upward from the soil beneath her hand, bones clattering violently as it rose. It lunged toward her instantly, wrapping its arms around her shoulders, its empty jaw clacking as if whispering directly into her ear.
Her eyes widened.
Then the ground around us began to move.
Writings of ancient, jagged symbols crawled across the dirt like living insects, spreading outward from Jiang Yeming’s hand. They raced across the clearing and surged toward the old man, forming the structure of an enormous array.
The firelight flickered strangely as the technique activated.
The old man only glanced at it with a half-hearted look.
He calmly bit the roasted marshmallow off the stick.
Then he tapped the stick lightly against the ground.
The sound was soft.
But the entire array shattered.
The crawling symbols collapsed instantly, their lines unraveling like threads pulled from cloth. The skeleton around Jiang Yeming froze as cracks spread through its bones.
A heartbeat later, it crumbled into ash.
The clearing returned to silence, and the old man brushed a bit of melted sugar from his fingers.
“After all that speech,” he said mildly, “and that is the best you can do?”
Then the space behind him tore open, as a jagged crack split the air itself.
From within the wound in reality, enormous crimson hands burst outward. They were slick, monstrous things that grabbed onto the old man’s shoulders and arms.
They dragged at him with terrifying strength.
“What? A worldly disruption? Or a heavenly calamity? At a time like this?” the old man said calmly, though I got the feeling he was surprised.
Jiang Yeming stared straight at him.
“The fate from an Immortal technique,” she said coldly, “is not something that can be so easily avoided.”
The old man moved faster than I expected.
The moment the crimson hands wrapped around him, his body twisted violently. His fingers dug into one of the arms and tore it clean off with a wet, ripping sound. The severed limb dissolved into red mist before it even hit the ground.
He ripped off another.
And another.
For a brief moment, it actually looked like he might escape.
But more arms poured out of the crack in space.
They kept coming and grasping, clawing, tightening their hold like a tide of blood-soaked limbs. No matter how many he tore away, new ones took their place.
The old man tightened his jaw.
The first true emotion I’d seen from him.
He twisted toward me suddenly and thrust his palm forward.
A blast of Qi erupted from his hand.
It tore through the clearing like a hurricane, grass scorching and space bending violently, the air screaming as the shockwave surged toward me.
Then the pull from the crack intensified.
The Qi wave distorted mid-flight, stretching like fabric caught in a vacuum. The blast bent backward, dragged violently off course.
The old man himself followed.
The crimson hands hauled him toward the rupture in space.
For the first time, he looked genuinely irritated.
The crack swallowed him, and the Qi blast along with him.
Then the space sealed shut as if nothing had happened.
Silence returned.
Only the fire crackled faintly behind us.
What the fuck was that?
I turned slowly toward Jiang Yeming. She looked far less surprised than I felt.
“He probably survived,” she said calmly.
I blinked. “…Survived?”
She nodded. “He hasn’t met his fated death yet.”
Oh. Right.
I stared at her.
She noticed the expression on my face and sighed faintly.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Fate is on your side.”
I didn’t respond immediately.
Because the way she said it didn’t sound comforting.
If anything, it sounded like I had just stepped onto a stage I didn’t even know existed before today.
I exhaled slowly.
Up until recently, the world had felt manageable. Dangerous, yes, but understandable.
Now it felt like I had walked into the middle of a play halfway through the performance.
And everyone else already knew the script.
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END OF BOOK 6