Volume Two: The Mortal Realm, Chapter 127: Fine Snow

The conversation with Xu Zixian in the courtyard lasted until dusk. During their exchange, Ye Mingke gradually began to perceive the charm hidden within this man, whom others called a genius.

He was arrogant, but his arrogance was reserved solely for the knowledge he had mastered; it stemmed from an intense praise and love for learning. Yet, whenever Ye Mingke revealed knowledge he did not possess, his passion would immediately transform him into a humble and eager student.

In his dealings with people, he showed a delicate and sharp perception. The impression he gave of being rigid and unyielding was merely because he could perceive the complexities of the human heart but refused to engage in hollow pretense. However, during their conversation, Ye Mingke felt that compared to when they first met, Xu Zixian had changed significantly in his interpersonal approach, as if he were clumsily learning the nuances of social grace and compromise.

"I have thought it over. Your idea of using the power of a fire-based civilization to counter the civilization of spiritual energy is correct. But the production of firearms cannot rely on me alone, and the people of the Great Xia, oppressed by the dynasty and the immortal scourge, cannot develop weapons truly strong enough to resist high-level cultivators."

"Studying the nature of things is important, but it is even more important to first study humanity."

"I walked through Yangjing for a day and a night. The backbone of humanity has been broken. If that backbone snaps, the entire human realm will forever be reduced to a slaughterhouse for cultivators, with no hope left."

"I cannot just stay in the mountains studying firearms forever. I want to step out and pass the blueprint of a civilization of fire—the hope for resisting the immortal scourge—to more people."

"I want to establish a nation without oppression, a nation where everyone receives the education best suited to them and can contribute according to their abilities. Only a nation that can unite the strength of every individual will be able to ignite the wildest fire this world has ever seen."

"But this will take many years, and there is no fire to be found in this world."

"Yet, someone must do something."

"If this eternal night is without fire, I am willing to become the torch."

Watching the man with the peculiar glasses, Ye Mingke saw the reflection of the sunset in his eyes and felt as if he were seeing a wildfire about to spread across the plains. He offered no critique or suggestion, for he knew this ordinary-looking, eccentric man had already found the path to which he would dedicate his life.

Liu Xi, still wrapped in her thick, tattered fur coat, stood nearby, her gentle eyes watching Xu Zixian with warmth and resolve.

At dusk, Ye Mingke took charge of the cooking, with Xu Zixian and A-Ru helping. Liu Xi had intended to assist, but despite her usual brilliance, she was out of her element in the kitchen and ended up hindering more than helping. She self-consciously moved to clean and set the table instead.

Light snow drifted down, hanging like a hazy beaded curtain between heaven and earth. Amidst the twilight and the white snow, the four of them enjoyed a sumptuous dinner, as harmonious as a family.

After the meal, Xu Zixian and Liu Xi simply told Ye Mingke they were heading out again, without explaining why. They had spoken of many things that afternoon, but they never mentioned what they had done the night before. They did not say, and Ye Mingke did not ask.

Outside the window, the snow continued to fall. Ye Mingke sat by the sill, a letter sent by Jian Jiu via flying sword resting beside him. One was a copy of the *Six Realms Sutra* from Que Jiu, and the other was a personal note from Jian Jiu: "The secret files have not yet arrived in the capital, and the records within the capital have been scoured to no avail. I suspect they were destroyed ten years ago."

Ye Mingke turned his gaze toward A-Ru on the bed behind him. In the flickering candlelight, the young girl was already asleep. In her sudden silence, he wondered—had she perhaps already guessed much of the truth?

Ye Mingke held the note to the candle flame, burning it until it was nothing but a pile of ash on the floor.

As the supervisor of the Great Xia’s millions of miles of territory, Jian Jiu had delivered even a simple note via spiritual sword, acting like a lone wolf. This was partly due to his cold nature, but it also reflected that upon arriving in Yangjing, Jian Jiu might not be facing a friendly environment, but rather the tangled, treacherous power struggles of the immortal sects.

Most of the tasks Ye Mingke entrusted to Jian Jiu were minor and would not cause him harm; he did not want Jian Jiu to face the pressure of the sects because of him. Favors were favors, and they were not to be used in such a way.

Ye Mingke sat in his chair, lost in thought in the snowy night. Window, chair, a man in contemplation. Suddenly, he felt the scene was strangely familiar, and upon reflection, he smiled faintly. A man sitting by the window in silent contemplation was the image he remembered most of his uncle, aside from him sitting by the hearth. There had been no conscious imitation or instruction, yet his uncle’s habits were etched into his own behavior.

Thinking of his uncle, a sharp, heart-wrenching sense of urgency surged within him. He longed to settle the affairs in Yangjing quickly and travel to the southern wilderness and the Western Lands to find the Nine-Spirit Primal Saint, who knew the truth of what happened back then.

But although he had claimed to be merely a traveler in the human realm, could he truly just walk away?

When Xu Zixian and Liu Xi learned he was not the Human Emperor incarnate, they had never required him to accompany them in their endeavors. Without that identity, he was just a little monster who had not grown up in the Great Xia, and he seemed to have no obligation to resist the nearly unstoppable immortal scourge. He was not the Human Emperor destined by prophecy to save mankind.

But...

The words the Master had spoken to him before leaving the small town echoed in his ears once more: "Shouldn't who you are be decided by the person you become?"

"What am I? A demon? A monster? A wandering soul?" Ye Mingke asked the moonless night in silence.

As if to answer his question, the sword case resting on the table in the room suddenly vibrated with a dull thud. Ye Mingke turned his head to look at the case, his brow furrowed. With a soft click, he opened it with his mind, and a tiny, pale figure peeked out from the gap.

"You're so noisy—are you tired of me sparing your life?" Ye Mingke asked coldly.

"How could that be? One life is already too few. Any less, and I wouldn't be able to serve you, Master," a voice replied with a fawning laugh.

The tiny white figure was the Lingchen Immortal. His face remained featureless, appearing even more eerie in the dim candlelight.

"Oh? And what service can you provide now? If none, go back to your dark box. Don't blame me for being unkind," Ye Mingke said, his tone icy, showing not a shred of mercy.

"Don't do that, Master! I couldn't bear to stay in that void where there isn't a glimmer of light for another few days. Please, have mercy," the little wax figure pleaded frantically.

"When you killed me, when you killed so many innocents, did you show them any mercy?" Ye Mingke's tone remained unyielding. He knew this pathetic creature and his disciples had tried to kill him multiple times, and their hands were stained with the blood of countless innocents.

"Master, you can't say that. Actually, I am not truly the Lingchen Immortal. I am merely a shred of spirit he left in the box. My relationship to him is like that of a father and son; I am quite aggrieved myself!" The wax figure climbed onto the table near Ye Mingke, rubbing its hands against its eyeless face as if wiping away tears.

Whether his weeping was real or fake was hard to tell. Ye Mingke remained unmoved, though he did notice that the creature’s temperament was indeed vastly different from the Lingchen Immortal.

Seeing Ye Mingke's expression remain cold, the wax figure realized that playing the victim was useless. It stopped wailing and adopted a fawning tone. "Master, I really am here to serve you. I know a piece of information that will surely be of great help to you."

"What information?" Ye Mingke was intrigued.

"I have a conjecture on how to wield the Human Sword," the wax figure said with a sly, fawning smile.

"Speak," Ye Mingke’s eyes flashed.

"If you tell me, I might allow you to come out for a while each day," Ye Mingke said coldly. "If you ask for anything else, don't blame me for melting you down."

"No, no! This is all that's left of my body. Actually, the method to use the Human Sword is simple. The key, Master, you have possessed for a long time..." The wax figure’s voice turned mysterious. "That key is the white jade boy in your puppet case. I didn't lie to Liu Yifu—that boy is indeed the last Human Emperor incarnate in the entire mortal world."

"What you said that night... it was true?" Ye Mingke’s heart trembled, his gaze sharpening. The Human Emperor incarnate, whom Liu Yifu and Liu Xi had failed to find in ten years of searching, the one destined to save humanity, had actually been killed and turned into a puppet by such a wretched creature. And he was likely the last one left in the world.

"Most inherited treasures identify lineage through blood. Although the puppet I made has a waxen quality, it retains the nature of flesh and blood. This means the white jade boy still carries the blood of the Human Emperor, and it is possible to awaken the Human Sword with it."

Ye Mingke looked back at the sword case. It sprang open, and another white figure emerged, transforming on the floor into a white, jade-like boy with brilliant golden eyes.

He picked up the Human Sword that Liu Xi had left in the courtyard.

Xu Zixian intended to walk a path entirely different from the path of immortal cultivation, a journey that would inevitably face countless blows. A master who had broken through the Twelve Floors of Martial Arts had already forced the Heavenly Court’s Garrison Bureau to mobilize its full strength. What would the rise of an entirely new civilization encounter?

What kind of power could protect it while it was still weak?

He looked up at the white jade boy, whose brilliant eyes remained hollow and devoid of spirit.