We Agreed On Experiencing Life, So Why Did You Immortals Become Real? Chapter 445: An Old Friend Your Master Has Long, Long Missed—Very, Very Much

Jiang Qingyi made her way back to the National Preceptor’s Residence.

Upon entering the courtyard, Jiang Qingyi noticed two intricately decorated brocade boxes placed on the stone table.

“Someone, come here,” Jiang Qingyi called out towards the entrance.

“National Preceptor.”

Swiftly, a maid emerged, her demeanor rigidly respectful, and offered a bow to Jiang Qingyi.

“Who delivered these two gift boxes?” Jiang Qingyi inquired.

“Reporting to the National Preceptor,” the maid replied.

“These two gift boxes were sent on behalf of Consort Xue from the Hall of Congealed Snow and Consort Mu from the Hall of Holding Wine.”

“The two consorts also asked this maid to pass along a message. They stated they have witnessed the diligent efforts you’ve undertaken for His Majesty, and these items are a token of their gratitude and compensation to you.”

“Furthermore, they mentioned that in the future, they will be able to refine that specific pill as well, thus alleviating the need to trouble the National Preceptor.”

As Jiang Qingyi listened to the maid's report, her brows furrowed slightly. Ultimately, she dismissed the matter with a wave of her hand. “I understand. You may leave now.”

“Yes, National Preceptor.”

After the maid departed, Jiang Qingyi proceeded to open the gift boxes presented by Consort Xue and Consort Mu.

The item dispatched by Bai Ruxue was a ten-thousand-year sea spirit ganoderma, renowned for its exceptional efficacy in restoring both Qi and blood.

The contribution from Qin Siyao was a flask of ten-thousand-year Hundred-Flowers Brew, whose effects mirrored those of the sea spirit ganoderma.

“Hmph!”

Jiang Qingyi let out a frosty snort and resealed the boxes.

She was well aware of the ulterior motives behind Bai Ruxue and Qin Siyao's actions.

They were privy to her having refined the Stealing Heaven Pill for Xiao Mo.

The Stealing Heaven Pill, as she knew, exacted a toll on one's essence blood.

The gifts they were sending now—items designed to replenish Qi and blood—were nothing more than a calculated attempt to prevent Xiao Mo from accumulating a personal debt to her.

Yet, her actions for Xiao Mo were entirely her own concern; what business did they have meddling?

“Do they truly presume to act as my martial aunties?”

Jiang Qingyi snapped the boxes shut, emitted another disdainful snort, and turned to enter her chambers.

The following morning arrived.

Xiao Mo awoke with the early sun.

On this particular day, Xiao Mo was scheduled to attempt the Foundation Establishment cultivation stage!

Boarding a carriage, Xiao Mo set off towards a remote plain he had previously scouted.

Wei Xun had expressed a desire to accompany him, but Xiao Mo declined the offer.

Naturally, Xiao Mo also opted not to bring Sili along.

This decision was not born from a lack of trust in Wei Xun and Sili.

Instead, it was because Bai Ruxue and Qin Siyao were also slated to be present. They would lend their expertise in assisting him with the ritual altar and the spell formation.

Bai Ruxue and Qin Siyao preferred to maintain a veil of secrecy regarding the full extent of their cultivation realms.

Before long, Xiao Mo, clad in a deep blue scholar's robe, found himself standing upon the solitary expanse of barren land.

For Xiao Mo, this inaugural heavenly tribulation carried an undeniable weight of apprehension.

Although he had navigated the perils of heavenly tribulations numerous times within the mystical Book of a Hundred Lives, those were, ultimately, mere simulations.

A demise within the Book of a Hundred Lives did not equate to true death.

However, perishing in reality would mean his absolute and permanent end.

Therefore, amidst this desolate plain, Xiao Mo meticulously began to set up the ritual altar.

He intended to perform an offering to Heaven and Earth prior to confronting the tribulation, hoping for a slightly reduced intensity when the lightning descended.

Observing Xiao Mo’s ritualistic preparations, Jiang Qingyi let out a soft scoff and averted her gaze, murmuring under her breath, “What is there to worship? Must we cultivators truly concern ourselves with the Heavenly Way’s disposition?”

Xiao Mo feigned ignorance, pretending not to have heard her.

It wasn't that he failed to comprehend her perspective.

Earlier, when Xiao Mo had sought Jiang Qingyi's counsel on how to best navigate the tribulation, she had famously declared there was nothing to prepare—when she faced tribulations, she would first verbally challenge the heavens and regard them as mere ants.

Xiao Mo could only conclude that such a method was befitting of true geniuses, not someone like himself.

After all, openly cursing the heavens during a tribulation courted severe backlash.

Unless one possessed an exceptionally terrifying innate talent, a cultivator of ordinary standing—especially a mortal ruler such as himself—should adhere strictly to the established protocols.

In stark contrast to Jiang Qingyi's dismissive view of Xiao Mo's precautions,

Bai Ruxue offered a gentle smile as she assisted Xiao Mo in constructing the altar, personally overseeing the arrangement of the offerings.

Xiao Mo found this approach to facing tribulation to be quite fitting.

He observed her reverence towards the Heavenly Way, thinking this was the proper comportment for a cultivator.

However, once Bai Ruxue concluded the altar's setup, she reached out to adjust Xiao Mo’s collar and declared with a smile,

“Husband, when you face the tribulation, do not be hasty. Simply focus your mind. We have already shown due respect to the Heavenly Way. If that cur of a Heavenly Way dares to be obstinate and makes things difficult for Husband, this concubine shall personally tear a piece from it!”

“....”

Upon hearing Bai Ruxue's audacious declaration, Xiao Mo was left momentarily speechless.

For Ruxue, her reverence for the Heavenly Way seemed to hinge entirely on whether it “knew its place.”

“Brother Emperor, the auspicious moment is upon us. It is time.”

Having finished setting up the spell formation, Qin Siyao approached Xiao Mo with visible excitement, saying casually, “Brother Emperor, fret not. The Foundation Establishment Realm is a simple matter. It’ll be over in the blink of an eye.”

“My thanks to the three of you.”

Xiao Mo offered a clasped-hand bow.

Despite their complex backgrounds, their presence seemed to guarantee that this tribulation would not be overly arduous.

About half an incense stick’s duration later, the trio retreated to a distance of one li from Xiao Mo.

Xiao Mo drew a deep breath, dissolved the seal on his cultivation realm, and initiated the foundation establishment!

Dark thunderclouds began to convene and churn directly above Xiao Mo’s head.

Within a five-li radius surrounding Xiao Mo, the atmosphere grew dim, as if a deluge was imminent.

CRACKLE!

A brilliant flash of lightning split the sky, immediately followed by a profound clap of thunder.

Xiao Mo inhaled sharply, ingested the Stealing Heaven Pill, and braced himself for the impending tribulation.

In the preceding days, Xiao Mo had thoroughly studied numerous texts concerning foundation establishment.

Under conventional circumstances, the foundation-establishment tribulation consisted merely of two lightning strikes.

Success would usher him into the Foundation Establishment Realm; failure meant, at best, severe injury, and at worst, complete annihilation of his body and Dao, his form and soul lost forever.

A minuscule one-in-ten-thousand chance existed for a cultivator to attempt foundation establishment a second time much later.

Yet, based on Xiao Mo’s research, the success rate for those attempting a second time was a mere one in a thousand.

BOOM!

As the thunderclap reverberated, the bolt of violet light descending from the horizon had already struck.

Xiao Mo made no move to evade.

Heavenly lightning, after all, was impossible to dodge.

He remained rooted to his spot, absorbing the first strike head-on.

As the lightning dissipated, he lowered his gaze, coughing twice. A acrid, scorched smell filled his mouth, and his throat felt as though it had been severely burned.

Blackened burn marks marred his face, hands, and the exposed skin on his neck where his collar had torn.

He blinked, shaking his head. Fleeting golden sparks still danced in his vision, and a persistent ringing echoed in his ears.

Xiao Mo glanced towards the distant figures of the three. His sight was hazy, perceiving only vague shapes.

Before Xiao Mo could regulate his breathing, the second strike descended.

This time, the lightning did not plummet directly from above.

Instead, it abruptly contracted and solidified, contorting into the shape of a longsword, its tip aimed directly at Xiao Mo.

“Tribulation lightning forming?”

Bai Ruxue’s voice dropped to a near whisper, yet her foot instinctively moved half a step forward.

Jiang Qingyi and Qin Siyao, standing beside her, also shifted forward one step, their expressions altering in unison.

This phenomenon, known as tribulation lightning taking form, was typically observed only when cultivators at the Dragon Gate Realm faced their heavenly tribulation.

Beyond the Dragon Gate Realm, spiritual power attained a certain density, and the tribulation lightning unleashed by the Heavenly Way would manifest in diverse forms dictated by the cultivator’s primary cultivation method.

However, Xiao Mo was merely attempting Foundation Establishment.

For the foundation-establishment tribulation, two strikes were the absolute maximum. How could formed lightning possibly appear?

And on the open plain, Xiao Mo had no opportunity to ponder such anomalies.

The lightning-sword of tribulation was already upon him.

He raised his hand. The spirit sword bestowed by Jiang Qingyi materialized in his palm.

Xiao Mo gathered a wisp of sword qi and struck towards the descending lightning sword.

The two forces clashed, erupting in a dull explosion.

A concussive wave radiated outwards, dislodging stones from the ground and sending dust swirling thirty feet into the air.

As the smoke and dust settled, Xiao Mo’s knee buckled. He collapsed onto one knee, his sword plunged into the earth for support.

Keeping his head bowed, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the scorched earth. Finegetlinear fissures appeared on his arms, neck, and brow, leaking blood that mingled with his ash-blackened sweat.

Bai Ruxue’s knuckles turned white as she clenched her sleeve.

The second tribulation strike had concluded.

Yet, the sky did not clear.

Instead, the dark clouds seemed to press lower, and within their churning depths, something stirred.

Moments later, a head emerged.

It was an ancient, desolate thunder beast. Its entire form emanated a dim, deep blue hue, and its eyes held no pupils, only twin clusters of intensely bright lightning.

It remained utterly silent, merely lowering its head to fix its gaze upon Xiao Mo, who knelt on the ground.

“A third lightning strike???”

Xiao Mo tilted his head back, his gaze fixed on the thunderous beast, questioning if his eyes deceived him.

He began to doubt if this was truly a Foundation Establishment tribulation he was facing.

Lightning taking form, three consecutive strikes—even the Dragon Gate Realm tribulation was no more fearsome than this.

A profound sense of helplessness settled in Xiao Mo’s heart.

Possessing the Hundun Emperor Bone and having consumed the Stealing Heaven Pill meticulously refined by National Preceptor Jiang, what right did he have to still be “honored” by Heaven in such a manner?

Concurrently, Bai Ruxue initiated her movement.

The spiritual power swirling within her sleeves seemed to solidify, and within her peach-blossom eyes, the ordinarily black pupils transformed into golden vertical slits.

Jiang Qingyi, too, tightened her grasp on her sword.

At some indiscernible moment, Qin Siyao had already brought forth a Ten-Fierce Spear into her hand.

They were acutely aware that any intervention from them at this juncture would shatter Xiao Mo's Foundation Establishment. Should this initial attempt falter, attempting to surmount this barrier again later would become an insurmountable task, harder than ascending to the heavens.

Yet, if they remained inactive, Xiao Mo would surely perish here.

However, just as the three of them prepared to act—

Xiao Mo pushed himself to stand.

His knee lifted from the ground. His spine straightened once more. Though blood continued to flow, he refused to bow his waist again.

A subtle, ethereal luminescence shimmered into existence around his body.

“What is this…?”

Bai Ruxue and the other two observed Xiao Mo with stunned expressions.

The light emanated was neither dazzling nor sharp—it was gentle, as if originating from an incredibly distant source.

It wasn’t the radiant glow of spiritual power, nor the protective aura of a magical artifact.

It resembled the condensed merit fortune drawn from the lights of countless households!

Xiao Mo drew a deep, steadying breath, and the sword intent surrounding him surged with greater intensity.

He had traversed bustling human thoroughfares and secluded alleyways, tending to commoners afflicted by plague and personally sampling medicinal concoctions. he had observed the comforting sight of cooking smoke rising from hearths, offered support to impoverished families, and heard the mournful cries of children in the dead of night. He had braved torrential downpours to reinforce dikes, laboring day and night to control raging floods.To the cultivators dwelling in their mountain sanctuaries, these were but “mundane,” “trivial,” and “unworthy of mention” exhalations of living beings. But at this critical moment, they coalesced into a delicate halo of light, providing him with protection.

Xiao Mo’s grip on his sword grew taut.

He averted his gaze from the thunderous beast. He did not look towards the turbulent tribulation clouds gathering overhead.

His eyes lowered, focusing instead on the spiritual sword held within his hand.

And then, he struck.

This single, decisive blow carried no thought of retreat, no reservation whatsoever.

The final vestiges of spiritual power within him, the last reserves of strength in his bones and blood—combined with that faint halo representing the collective “lights of myriad households”—were all poured into this one, ultimate strike.

The edge of the sword ascended.

The thunderous beast plunged downwards.

Simultaneously.

Within a secluded courtyard of White Deer Academy,

a woman clad in an ink-black, flowing gown was engrossed in reading within her chamber.

Abruptly, she set her book aside and moved with haste from the room.

Standing in the courtyard, she gazed toward the distant horizon, her pale, slender hand clenching tightly.

“Headmaster, is something amiss?”

Hu Die, who had been diligently practicing calligraphy in the same courtyard, raised her head. Observing her teacher’s faraway, vacant stare, she hurried to Shang Jiuli’s side.

In Hu Die’s perception, her teacher had always embodied an aura of elegance and composed serenity, handling all matters with unhurried grace. This was the very first time she had witnessed her teacher exhibiting such palpable tension.

Shang Jiuli gently shook her head and spoke in a slow, measured tone, “It is nothing… Merely an old friend has reached the Foundation Establishment stage.”

“An old friend?”

Hu Die blinked, her confusion deepening. Logically, her teacher’s old acquaintances should all be formidable cultivators. How could the term “old friend” be associated with the foundational stage of cultivation?

“Indeed.”

Shang Jiuli offered a soft smile and turned back, her gaze falling upon her disciple. She then gently ruffled her head.

“An old friend whom your master has longed for, for a very, very long time.”

Central Lands.

The Confucian Academy.

Within the paramount heartland of the Ten Thousand Arts world, the hallowed ground that every scholar across the realm aspired to reach—

a radiant stream of ink-black scholarly energy ascended from the Literary Temple, piercing directly into the heavens.

Billows of crisp, clean wind swept through the venerable grounds of the Confucian Academy.

The breeze was refreshingly pleasant, carrying with it the distinct, comforting aroma of ink.

Scholars who perceived this phenomenon felt their very righteous qi stir profoundly within their chests.

This was the legendary page-turning wind.

“What is occurring?”

“Such an intensely dense page-turning wind!”

“Could it be that a sage has descended into the mortal realm?”

“An omen emanating from the Literary Temple! How many years has it been since the last occurrence?”

“A sage… How ancient is the lineage that has not produced a sage within our Confucian path…”

The disciples of the academy, witnessing this extraordinary omen, murmured amongst themselves, exchanging conjectures with their companions about its potential meaning.

“Head—Headmaster… the Literary Temple…”

A young Confucian scholar, his face etched with panic, rushed breathlessly into the courtyard of the Confucian Academy’s headmaster, Kong Sheng, his words stumbling in his anxiety.

“I am aware. I comprehend everything.”

With snow-white hair, Kong Sheng slowly got up from his couch and made his way to the window.

This elder, who appeared to be a simple village farmer, gathered his sleeves and gazed into the distance, lost in thought.

“Headmaster, what exactly does this omen at the Literary Temple signify?” the young Confucian scholar inquired, standing beside Kong Sheng, his mind brimming with uncertainty. “Could it be that a true sage has descended into our mortal realm?”

“Indeed... a sage has graced this world.”

Kong Sheng turned his head, his gaze sweeping towards another location.

That place was the grand Literary Temple.

Inside its hallowed halls, statues honoring four great sages were enshrined.

However, among these four venerated figures, one pedestal stood conspicuously empty—a stark contrast that felt jarringly abrupt.

It seemed as if a statue had once occupied that very spot, only to be removed in the end.

“Jinche, do you recall the tale I once shared with you?” Kong Sheng asked, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he looked at his final disciple.

Jinche paused, his expression one of dawning realization. “Teacher, are you suggesting…?”

Kong Sheng offered a faint smile, though his eyes held a profound sense of sorrow.

“There once was a sage, exceedingly young, who accomplished a multitude of deeds—actions that were truly worthy of all under heaven.”

“Yet, the people of this world… were ultimately unworthy of him.”