Chapter 380 — The Inheritor
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 3 of 4
He sighed deeply and said, "The Hierarch of the Youmo Cult is so outstanding, so preeminent—such a man is hard to control. My sons and daughters cannot match him. When my lifespan is exhausted—heh heh—this Yankang will likely fall into his pocket. So yes, I did entertain the thought of killing him for a moment."
He stood there, watching Shen Mu and the others recede, his expression calm, and said, "But not anymore."
Emperor Yanfeng raised his head to look at the sky, his tone growing ever calmer: "State Preceptor, you and I may be sovereign and minister, but in truth we are brothers, hearts linked as one, and both of us so outstanding, so rare in this world. Even with the two of us working in concert on reform and change, it has been so difficult—like a small boat in a raging storm, liable to capsize at any moment. I have been thinking: what if we fail? What if we die? Who will carry on our unfinished work?"
He turned around, his expression fervent, and raised both hands to grip State Preceptor Xuankang's shoulders firmly, his eyes blazing: "I should not think of my Ling family—I should think of Yankang, of your work and mine, of the reforms! So I cannot harbor the thought of killing him! Your work and mine needs an inheritor—an inheritor for after we fail! My sons and daughters lack the means, but he has it! Is that not so, my fellow Daoist?"
State Preceptor Xuankang, hearing the word "fellow Daoist," seemed touched to the soul, and nodded gently: "He has the ability."
Everyone knew him as the driver of reform and change, single-mindedly devoted to it, wishing to be a sage who establishes words, teachings, and deeds. But no one knew that he too had his weak moments, his bewildered moments, his moments of wanting to retreat.
What gave him the greatest support, what kept him walking on, was this closest friend of his.
Emperor Yanfeng was his best friend, his most reliable comrade-in-arms!
Such friendship, others could never comprehend.
Fellow Daoist.
In a lifetime, to encounter such a fellow Daoist—this life was enough.
"I will stand by your side."
State Preceptor Xuankang gazed into the distance, his heart utterly calm, and said, "Always by your side."
Shen Mu and the others returned to the palace that seemed almost bathed in spiritual qi and spiritual power. No sooner had they landed than they saw several people waiting for them within the hall.
"Shen'er, come back to the Desolate Ruins with us."
The Blind Elder rose to his feet with his cane, walked toward Shen Mu, seized his hand, and said decisively, "Butcher, Village Head, there is no more need to talk—back to the Desolate Ruins, back to the Desolate Ruins at once!"
The Butcher rose abruptly, two blades at his back, and said coldly, "Blind Elder, are you afraid?"
The Blind Elder sneered, "Afraid? I am half in the grave—what should I fear? It is you who are afraid, is it not?"
The Butcher was furious, like a raging lion: "When have I ever feared anyone?"
"Back in the day, when you were the sole survivor, were you not afraid?"
The Blind Elder mocked, "You lay in the mud and dragged yourself all the way here on two arms! I am blind, but I am not blind—I know the terror in your heart!"
"Damn you, Blind Elder, you were no better off back then!"
The Butcher drew his blades; the Blind Elder released Shen Mu's hand and gripped his bamboo staff. The two bristled with killing intent.
Shen Mu hastily stepped between them to keep them from truly coming to blows. The Village Head lay on a rocking chair, headache written on his face: "Enough, no more quarreling! You two have always been the closest of friends—is it worth falling out over this? Old Tu, the Blind Elder sees most accurately; his wanting Shen'er to return to the village is for Shen'er's own good. Silent Craftsman, you have always spoken little, but your words carry weight—what do you think?"