---
## Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Innocent Account and a Harsh Farewell
The cold, damp earth at the Azure Harmony Sect gates offered little comfort, but Yan Zhen, utterly spent, could do nothing but slump against it. Hours bled into an eternity. The initial terror had dulled into a dull ache of exhaustion, punctuated by the gnawing uncertainty of Lin Feng's fate. He watched the impassive guards, the swirling mist, the impenetrable silence of the ancient sect, feeling like a discarded husk.
Then, a ripple in the mist. The same young guard who had initially denied him entry reappeared, his face still serene, but his eyes holding a new, almost respectful curiosity. "Disciple Yan Zhen," he intoned, his voice softer than before. "The Patriarch has sent for you. You are permitted entry."
A jolt of adrenaline, weak but present, surged through Yan Zhen. The Patriarch. The impossibly fast man who had snatched Lin Feng away. He pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in protest, but the promise of news about Lin Feng propelled him forward.
The path that opened before him was breathtaking. The mist parted to reveal ancient, moss-covered stone pathways winding through a landscape of unparalleled spiritual beauty. Towering, gnarled spirit trees with leaves of shimmering jade reached towards the heavens, their roots intertwined with glowing spiritual veins that pulsed with vibrant qi. Serene pavilions, crafted from dark, polished wood and white jade, nestled harmoniously amidst lush gardens where rare spiritual herbs bloomed in vibrant hues. The air itself felt alive, thick with pure spiritual energy, a stark contrast to the less potent qi of the **Cloud Soaring Sect** he had known. Yan Zhen, despite his profound exhaustion, felt a faint stirring of awe. This was a true cultivation sanctuary, a place of power and profound peace.
He was led through winding corridors, past disciples who moved with a quiet grace, their cultivation levels clearly far beyond anything he had seen. Finally, he was ushered into a spacious, yet minimalist chamber. The walls were adorned with ancient, faded tapestries depicting celestial constellations, and the air was infused with a calming, almost ethereal fragrance.
At the far end of the room, seated on a simple, elevated platform, was **Patriarch Xing**. He appeared exactly as Yan Zhen remembered from the gates: a man in his mid-thirties, his features refined, his eyes holding a wisdom that transcended his youthful appearance. He exuded an aura of profound calm, yet Yan Zhen could sense the immense, unfathomable power coiled beneath that serene exterior.
"Welcome, Disciple Yan Zhen," Patriarch Xing said, his voice a low, resonant hum that filled the chamber. There was no judgment, only a quiet authority. "Thank you for bringing your friend here. He is being attended to."
Relief, sharp and overwhelming, flooded Yan Zhen. "He... he will be alright?" he managed to croak, his voice still raw.
Patriarch Xing nodded slowly. "His condition is grave, but he is in the most capable hands. We will do everything we can." His gaze, ancient and piercing, settled on Yan Zhen. "Before we discuss your friend further, I must ask: how did you, an outsider, know of the Azure Harmony Sect's existence? Our location is... not easily found."
Yan Zhen's heart skipped a beat. This was it. The question Elder Xuan had warned him about. He shifted uncomfortably, his mind racing for a plausible, yet vague, explanation. "It was... a desperate gamble, Patriarch," he began, choosing his words carefully. "Rumors, whispers among rogue cultivators of a hidden sect known for its unparalleled healing. I sought every scrap of information, followed every faint trail. My friend's life depended on it. It was... intuition, a desperate hope that led me to these mountains." He omitted any mention of the exact guidance, the celestial alignments, or the ancient voice in his head.
Patriarch Xing listened intently, his expression unreadable. He observed Yan Zhen's subtle hesitation, the slight shift in his gaze. He sensed the unspoken secret, the carefully constructed evasion. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him. In a world where cultivators guarded their very lives with secrets, he understood. His primary concern is Lin Feng, not Yan Zhen's mysterious knowledge.
"I see," Patriarch Xing said, his voice softening slightly, a silent acknowledgment of Yan Zhen's right to his own mysteries. "Everyone has their own path, their own secrets. I will not press you further on that matter." He paused, then his gaze returned to Yan Zhen with renewed focus. "Tell me about your friend, then. Everything you know. His birth, his cultivation, the circumstances of his injury. Do not hold back any detail, however small you deem it."
Yan Zhen felt a wave of profound relief wash over him. The pressure was off. And this, he could do. He could speak of Lin Feng, his true friend, his hero. And so, with the unvarnished honesty of a child, he recounted everything he knew about Lin Feng: his strange origins, his unparalleled talent that quickly propelled him through the ranks of the **Cloud Soaring Sect**, the brilliance of his Golden Core, and finally, the harrowing, selfless act in the Crimsonwood Forest that had shattered that core and left him on the brink of death. He spoke of Lin Feng's bravery, his sacrifice, and his own desperate journey to bring him here, his voice thick with emotion as he emphasized their bond and Lin Feng's urgent need for salvation.
As Yan Zhen spoke, pouring out his heart, Patriarch Xing listened in profound silence. His serene expression remained, but deep within his ancient eyes, a storm of comprehension raged. Every detail Yan Zhen innocently provided—the strange origin, the unparalleled talent, the rapid cultivation, the Golden Core's immense power, the self-destructive technique that shattered it, and especially the near-death state that had caused the locket to flare—clicked into place. It was all aligning with the ancient prophecies and the characteristics of the **Genesis Stellar Body**.
The locket, hidden beneath his robes, hummed faintly, a silent confirmation. This was it. After a millennium of searching, of despair, of watching his daughter sleep in suspended animation, the key to her salvation had finally arrived. And he had come so close to losing him. A wave of immense, almost unbearable relief washed over Patriarch Xing, so profound it threatened to crack his ancient composure. This young man, Yan Zhen, had unknowingly delivered a miracle.
"Yan Zhen," Patriarch Xing said, his voice regaining its calm, authoritative tone. "You have performed a great service in bringing your friend here. Rest assured, Lin Feng's condition, while critical, is now totally fine. He is in the care of our sect's best healers, and they possess the means to mend even the most severe injuries."
A wave of immense, shuddering relief washed over Yan Zhen. "He's... he's totally fine?" he repeated, tears pricking at his eyes. "Thank you, Patriarch! Thank you so much!" The exhaustion of the past month, the constant fear, the grueling journey—it all seemed to drain away in that moment of confirmation.
"You may rest here for the night," Patriarch Xing continued, his gaze unwavering. "A disciple will guide you to a chamber."
The next day passed in a haze of cautious optimism for Yan Zhen. He cultivated in the room assigned to him, feeling the abundant spiritual energy of the **Azure Harmony Sect** strengthening his chaotic qi. He ate the simple, nourishing meals brought to him, and for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to truly relax. He envisioned Lin Feng waking up, strong and healthy, and perhaps they could explore this incredible sect together.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in fiery hues, the door to his room slid open silently. Patriarch Xing stood there, his presence as serene and powerful as ever, but with a subtle, unyielding firmness in his eyes.
"Yan Zhen," the Patriarch began, without preamble. "The time has come for you to leave the sect."
Yan Zhen blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. Leave? Now? A cold dread began to creep into his heart. "Patriarch?" he asked, his voice hesitant. "I... I don't understand. Is Lin Feng already cured? Is he ready to go?" A frantic hope surged within him, desperate for that answer.
Patriarch Xing's expression remained calm, but there was no warmth. "Lin Feng's recovery will take time. He suffered profound injuries. It will be about a month before he is fully cured and stable enough to begin his cultivation journey anew."
"A month?" Yan Zhen's relief quickly evaporated, replaced by confusion and a growing sense of unease. "Then why... why do I have to leave? I can wait for him. I can help him when he recovers."
The Patriarch's gaze intensified, becoming purely authoritative. "Yan Zhen, you have served your purpose. This is the **Azure Harmony Sect**. We do not allow outsiders to simply reside on our land, regardless of their intentions. As for Lin Feng, his circumstances are... unique. He will remain in the **Azure Harmony Sect** to complete his recovery, and he will join our sect in the future. He will be our disciple."
Yan Zhen felt a jolt of shock, his mind reeling. Lin Feng... staying? Becoming a disciple of this sect? And he... he had to leave? A knot of ice formed in his stomach. This wasn't what he'd expected. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His best friend, snatched away by a powerful sect, and he, the one who brought him, cast out?
"But... but we're best friends! We're sworn brothers! We face everything together!" Yan Zhen exclaimed, his voice rising, a desperate plea in his tone. "He wouldn't want me to leave!"
Patriarch Xing merely looked at him, his ancient eyes betraying no emotion. "That is the decision that has been made. Lin Feng's future lies here. Your path, for now, lies elsewhere. A messenger will guide you out at dawn."
The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, suffocating. Yan Zhen stood there, utterly bewildered, the immense relief of Lin Feng's safety now overshadowed by a chilling sense of abandonment and a future he hadn't foreseen.
---