Chapter 38
All of it became undeniable proof, declaring that Xuelan was not merely a camp, but a small city wrapped in the memories of war—a place where life and secrets clung together like dust that never disappeared.
Doubt had once taken root in Ling Xu's heart when he gazed upon the grandeur of Xuelan Camp.
Not because of the walls or the gates that seemed impossible to breach, but because of the cruel requirements he had long heard whispered from mouth to mouth.
Several hundred coins were demanded just to step inside, a price that even for mid-ranking nobles felt like punishment.
How many families had to sell their heirlooms just to set foot on this land, only to realize that their journey had only just begun.
But there was an exception, a hidden wind of salvation.
Every cultivator, no matter how high or how low their rank, was permitted to enter freely.
As long as their breath was no longer bound to the flow of heaven and earth's energy, the gates of Xuelan would open wide.
And Ling Xu, who had now stepped into the Second Level of the Lower Grand Stellar Realm, found himself included in that small circle.
The stream of life before the gate moved like ocean waves that refused to subside.
Gods and Goddesses, their faces radiating divine aura, mingled with the footsteps of those trying to conceal their unease.
Ling Xu was absorbed into the flow, his body pressed within—but inside his chest, a pure joy bloomed like a flower amidst the chaos.
There was a pulse of awe that could not be suppressed, as though each breath became a small song praising the greatness of the moment.
A belief had long been rooted within him, the belief that he could only dream from afar of the camp spoken of as the gateway to a new destiny.
Now, not only had he managed to stand before the gate, but also to step within it without spending a single coin.
That small victory spread within him.
Not merely as a privilege, but as a symbol, a reminder that the long road he had traveled was finally beginning to reveal its light.
If once he had been nothing but a wandering healer, closing wounds with makeshift energy, powerless against humanity's cruelty, now he stood firm, engraving his presence as someone who could no longer be underestimated.
The title of the Enlightened Outcast that once clung to his shoulders slowly dissolved, replaced by a new identity.
A cultivator recognized by the world, accepted by the gates of Xuelan towering high like an eternal acknowledgment.
Amidst the bustling tide of Gods and Goddesses surging forward, Ling Xu found himself caught, trapped within the whirlpool of his own thoughts.
He let his steps follow the rhythm of the procession, yet his eyes were empty, as though carried deep into reflection.
That did not mean his body froze, for his legs still moved slowly, following those ahead of him.
But in truth, his mind drifted, comparing the bleak past to the possibility of light now unfolding before him.
Only, that order quickly shattered without warning.
From within the crowd, a strong pull gripped his arm, tearing apart the calm he had just built.
That dragging did not come from the gatekeepers, nor from the push of rushing newcomers, but from a palm far too familiar to mistake.
Huan Zheng, with his usual arrogance, planted his grip firmly on Ling Xu's left arm.
Shock mixed with irritation flashed across Ling Xu's face, as though the small world he had just created was forcefully torn down by that hand.
Reflexes honed through long training instantly rose.
Ling Xu did not choose to surrender to the pull; instead, his body tensed and turned to deflect.
His left arm, once seized, was quickly freed, then used to block the path of Huan Zheng's right palm aimed toward Ling Xu's face.
Thus, the clash of two opposing energies created a gust so fierce, it swept and disrupted the neat procession.
Those around them, once busy maintaining their positions, were forced to scatter, staring with a mix of shock and unease.
The energy released was no mere playful spark, but a small eruption of power from two cultivators colliding in the midst of the crowd.
Huan Zheng was still suspended in the air when his gaze swept far below, witnessing Ling Xu finally stepping onto the borders of Xuelan Camp.
From above, he slowed his descent, restraining the movement of his energy wings that still pulsed weakly.
His body, long exhausted to near dryness, was now forced to patch itself, refilling reserves of energy in a way no less wild than when they were drained.
Every breath was a struggle, yet years of discipline had trained him, teaching him to embrace pain with calm, enduring it while reconstructing strength.
Even so, one thought churned within his mind.
"He could not possibly leave Ling Xu behind."
In a jungle law that exalted strength and trampled weakness, Ling Xu's rise from wandering healer to healing cultivator was nothing more than a candle in the storm.
It was not nearly enough to guarantee safety.
In fact, such success could draw even more attention, ensnaring him in far greater danger.
The Stellar Foundation bond linking them gave Huan Zheng even more reason to be furious.
To him, one careless move from Ling Xu was the same as opening a path to his own ruin, and every wound Ling Xu bore could easily rebound as a burden upon his body.
Thus the only way forward was to remain faithful to the original plan, following his Young Master even if his heart burned with unquenchable fire.
Yet hidden anger could never truly be suppressed.
The memory of the long chase, in which he had been forced to burn fifteenfold his energy reserves, replayed like poison in his mind.
For anyone else, it would have certainly ended in death.
Either the body would fall, crashing into the ground with blood scattered, or it would explode in midair into nameless fragments.
Even the worst possibilities loomed, allowing the loss of identity, transforming into nothing more than a soulless wrecker.
Only he, with a foundation forged through long suffering, had managed to endure such torment.
And naturally, this truth made Huan Zheng sick, for he knew full well that no other subordinate would ever follow Ling Xu—not even if promised twentyfold riches.
Huan Zheng could no longer restrain himself.
His body, which had only just landed with heavy steps, immediately surged forward, closing the distance to where Ling Xu stood among the crowd.
A few steps were enough, just right to release all the fire gnawing at his chest.
His right fist hardened, not to kill, but to assert his vexation.
Merely to wound lightly, a release, so that his anger might find its path.
To be continued…