Chapter 397 - 214: One Hundred Years of Solitude

Chapter 397: Chapter 214: One Hundred Years of Solitude

The common people were still "alive," allowing him to use his Miracle Technique to secretly extract their Human Souls and gather Painting Power. But they were already dead, and the man didn’t know how to paint them with enough life and spirit to let them live on in an alternate form within his art.

This was a realization that still eluded him.

Realizing the Monk and Xiaotao were the only people he knew left in the world, the man was suddenly overcome with the desire to see her.

「Six months later.」

After a stop-and-go journey, the two men and one cat arrived at the Imperial City.

Along the way, the Monk studied Xiaomiao, who hadn’t changed a bit in almost ten years. "Brother," he asked, puzzled, "this Mao’er of yours... isn’t its life a bit on the long side?"

"For a cat that made it back from the Great Desert alive, a long life isn’t so strange."

Little Feng Miao smugly bared its teeth at the Monk.

The carriage entered the city. Inside the Imperial City, music and dance filled the air—a scene of peace, prosperity, and bustling activity.

The man’s crippled feet drew stares and looks of pity from the people, but he had long grown accustomed to such reactions over the years. When they passed the Zheng Residence, he noted its appearance was slightly different from how it would look a hundred years later. He paused before the gate for a moment. When the Monk inquired, the man just shook his head. "It’s nothing."

Upon finding the home where he had left Xiaotao in foster care, the man looked up and froze.

It was the Jing Clan.

The ancestral home of Jing Xuemei, who would become his personal handmaiden a hundred years from now.

’It can’t be...’

The coincidence filled him with a strange apprehension. After he knocked and announced his purpose, an elderly couple came to the door. They opened it with anger in their eyes, as if looking to settle a score. But when they saw the empty space below his knees and the two stark Iron Crutches in his hands, the fire in their eyes dissipated, replaced by a sigh.

"You’re too late."

The man’s brow furrowed at their words. Just as he was about to ask, the Monk blurted out, "Did Xiaotao get married?"

The old man nodded, his expression complicated.

The furrows on the man’s brow smoothed out. He smiled at the Monk, who understood immediately and cupped his hands in a formal bow on his brother’s behalf. The man then said gently, "We were old acquaintances. I was just passing through the Imperial City and thought I’d stop by. Since it’s not a good time, please forget we came."

The elegantly dressed old woman opened her mouth as if to speak, but said nothing. Instead, she quietly tugged on her husband’s sleeve.

Seeing the two about to leave, the old man couldn’t stop himself from calling out, "Please, wait!"

The man and the Monk turned back.

"May I ask... what are your names?"

The Monk answered first, "Xie Yunliu."

The man paused for a moment. "...Gongsun Mo."

"Gongsun Mo, Gongsun Mo, Gongsun Mo." The couple repeated the name, a look of conflict on their faces. Finally, after a moment of struggle, the old man sighed deeply. "Our daughter is inside. Please, come in."

The Jing couple led the two men into an inner chamber.

Eventually, they stopped before a row of memorial tablets.

Xiaotao’s memorial tablet was displayed prominently among them—"Memorial Tablet of the Late Daughter Xiaotao of the Gongsun-Jing Clan"!

Gongsun-Jing Clan! Gongsun-Jing Clan! Gongsun-Jing Clan!

"A few years ago, our daughter learned of the ’Falling Star of the Great Desert’ incident and heard that the man she loved, Gongsun Mo, had perished there." By this point, the Jing couple were sobbing uncontrollably. "After that, she fell into a deep depression from which she could not recover. She ate little and spoke less. Last year, when she passed, she asked us to add the ’Gongsun’ surname to her memorial tablet. Our daughter said that since she could not marry into the Gongsun Clan in life, she hoped to remain by Young Master Gongsun’s side in death. She didn’t ask to grow old with him in life, only to lie with him for eternity in death. This... was our daughter’s dying wish."

"Hah..."

"Hah..."

"Hah..."

With a THUD, the man collapsed to the floor. He gasped for air, strange, guttural sounds tearing from his raw throat.

"Ah..."

"Ah..."

"They’re all gone..."

"All gone..."

"Everyone... is gone..."

"Gone..."

"Only I’m left..."

...

...

Xiaotao’s death was the final straw.

He wandered the streets on his crutches like a walking corpse.

He couldn’t paint. He couldn’t paint. He couldn’t paint.

"Gongsun Mo."

An impeccably dressed old man with a Jade Ring on his thumb stopped him on the street.

The Monk, who had been discreetly watching over him from a distance, froze. "The National Preceptor!"

The Monk had seen this man during his time in the army and had always found him formidable. His Intuition told him the National Preceptor was no ordinary man. Seeing him again now in the Imperial City, stopping his brother, made the Monk’s heart pound with a terrible premonition.

Just as the Monk started to move forward, it was as if Gongsun Mo and the National Preceptor suddenly existed in a different world. They seemed to recede into the distance, the din of the street abruptly ceased, and complete silence fell upon the Monk’s ears.

"Pardon the intrusion." The old man steadied the staggering Gongsun Mo, a gentle smile on his face. In a voice that was almost hypnotic, he whispered in the man’s ear, "I am the National Preceptor of this dynasty."

Gongsun Mo looked up, a furious blaze instantly igniting in his eyes. "It was you!"

"So, it seems you understand." The National Preceptor met Gongsun Mo’s unbridled fury with a faint smile. "What you fail to understand, however, is that my actions were for a righteous cause."

"Bullshit!"

"I don’t expect you to comprehend my life’s great ambition," the National Preceptor said. "But I can help you."

Before the man could answer, the National Preceptor uttered a sentence that crashed over him like a tidal wave, extinguishing the fire in his heart in an instant. "I can tell you how to get Xie Luohe... out of that place."

"I can give you back the one you love, Xie Luohe!"

...

The National Preceptor led Gongsun Mo to a secret chamber.

The chamber was pitch-black, buried deep underground.

It seemed to be located at the very foundations of the Imperial Palace. No one in the world knew such a place was hidden beneath it.

A mournful wind—WHOOSH, WHOOSH—whistled through the cavernous chamber, like the howling of ghosts, evidence of a hidden vent somewhere above. Countless chains hung from the ceiling, all of them empty. They swayed gently in the draft, letting out the occasional CLANK.

"Hate me or resent me, it makes no difference! We have reached this point. If you are willing, then hear what I have to say. If not, I will send you away. The rest of your life can be one of limitless wealth and glory!"