NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1812 - In the Depths of Clouds
Chapter 1812: In the Depths of Clouds
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
The snow was falling steadily, blanketing everything like the dust that covered history.
Dugu Wushuang woke up. It was very quiet, so quiet that he thought he was in hell. He moved a little, and his body touched the chopped wood. There was a noise.
“Huh? I can move already?” He froze for a moment, then looked at his body. The gash that ran from his shoulder to his lower back had completely healed. “What?! A fatal wound such as that had healed overnight?!”
Dugu Wushuang’s heart raced. He looked around and found that he was in a woodshed. “Some expert must have saved me! Only an immortal would have the ability to heal such an injury overnight!” he murmured.
He stood up. His breath and energy were still not stable, but he did not care. He picked up the Wushuang Sword that was thrown on the ground. It was his lifeblood, his price as a Sword God. He stroked the sword and sighed.
“Since heaven will not take my life this time, I swear that I’ll cut through it with my sword one day!”
He pushed open the shabby door of the woodshed and walked out. The ground was covered with loose snow. In the yard, a fat chicken flapped its wings happily. Dugu Wushuang recognized it as the chicken that stomped on his head yesterday before he passed out. He squinted.
“Oh? You’re awake? Then gather up your things and leave.”
A faint voice rang out. Dugu Wushuang paused, then turned his head to look in the direction where the voice came from. He found a lean young man sitting on a bamboo chair and sipping from a bowl of steaming fish soup. A puppet whose body was covered with cracks sat quietly beside him.
‘Where is this?’ Dugu Wushuang frowned. He did not sense any true energy fluctuation in the young man. There was no doubt that the youth was just a mortal, not a cultivator. The puppet, too, did not have true energy, so it should be just a mortal object. ‘Perhaps this young man is a disciple of the senior who saved my life?’
“May I know if the Immortal Master is at home? I, Wushuang, will never forget him for saving my life.”
Dugu Wushuang nodded slightly to Bu Fang. However, Bu Fang only glanced at him indifferently, took a sip of the soup, and breathed out a puff of hot air. The atmosphere was a little awkward for a moment.
“I’m Dugu Wushuang, the Sword God of the Empire. I would like to meet the Immortal Master,” Dugu’s frown deepened, and his tone intensified.
“There is no Immortal Master here. Now that you’re healed, you may leave… It’s a big mountain, and it was by chance that you found it here,” Bu Fang said as he ate a piece of fish. Then, he stood up and walked to the hut.
Wushuang took a deep breath. ‘This mortal is… arrogant,’ he thought. But he did not make a scene. After giving Bu Fang a deep look, he walked over to the hut and sat down quietly. “Since you won’t tell me where the Immortal Master is, I’ll wait here for his return…”
He was burning inside. The path of immortality was hard to find, but everyone scrambled for it. Since he had the chance to meet an Immortal Master, how could he easily leave?
Whitey turned its head a little, its dull mechanical eyes glancing at Dugu, while Eighty cackled with a gloating look in its eyes.
Before long, Bu Fang came out of the hut, wearing a thick jacket. “Why are you still here?” His brows furrowed when he saw Dugu sitting on the chair.
“I want to see the Immortal Master…” Wushuang said.
“I told you there is no Immortal Master. Leave now, or I’ll… kick you out,” Bu Fang said. He saved Dugu because he thought it was fate. After all, the latter found his hut in the middle of the vast mountain. Besides, he only offered a cup of wine. He did not want to leave a person in his hut.
Wushuang was not happy with that. “Why are you so unreasonable, young man? I merely want to see the Immortal Master. If he comes back and doesn’t want to see me, I’ll leave. Who are you to kick people out?” he said. When it came to a chance of embarking on the path of immortality, he would not give up easily.
His sword skills were astounding, but he was still far from becoming a legendary immortal. He had tried to shatter the void with his martial arts, but he failed. From that moment on, he knew he was still far from becoming an immortal.
“I’m being unreasonable? If I had not been reasonable… you would have been eaten by the wolves and turned into bones in the mountain.” Bu Fang shook his head. He thought it was funny. “Eighty, kick him out,” he said faintly. And with that, he turned into the hut, took the basket, and prepared to go up the mountain.
“Kick me out?” Wushuang smiled. In his eyes, Bu Fang was just a mortal. Besides him, there was only a muddle-headed puppet and a chicken. Who could kick him out? He was not bothered.
Meanwhile, Bu Fang carried the basket and went straight out.
“Cluck cluck cluck!”
Suddenly, Wushuang froze. In the distance, the eyes of the fat chicken suddenly became very sharp. It tilted its head slightly forward, spread its wings, and then darted wildly at him!
1
“Cluck!”
Accompanied by a chicken crow, Eighty stomped its foot. The snow suddenly exploded, revealing a huge chicken footprint. The next moment, it leaped into the air, spread its claws, and kicked Dugu in the face!
‘The heck?!’ Wushuang was dumbfounded. Before he could react, he was kicked in the face by a fat chicken, which sent him flying backward uncontrollably and falling into the snow. Lying on his back, Wushuang stared blankly at the sky. He had just been f*cking kicked out by a chicken. It made him feel so bad that he wanted to cry.
Bu Fang walked out of the hut, carrying the basket and clutching a bamboo stick. Whitey followed him. He glanced expressionlessly at Dugu Wushuang, who was lying in the snow and questioning his life, and then walked on. Before long, his figure was lost in the mist of the mountain road.
Wushuang rolled to his feet, staring in the direction where Bu Fang had disappeared. He was shocked. He realized that he was wrong. He had a preconceived notion that the Immortal Master should be an old man. But in fact, this young man without any true energy was the immortal!
‘If even such a fearsome chicken listens to him, there must be something extraordinary about him!’
Dugu stood up. However, before he could stand up straight, Eighty leaped at him again, spread its claws, and kicked him in the face. Once again, he was knocked flying away and fell to the snow.
1
He was fuming now. As the number one Sword God of the Empire, how could he be kicked in the face by a chicken? He would rather die in battle than being defeated by a chicken!
“Cluck!”
The snow exploded and danced in the air as Dugu Wushuang was kicked again and thrown into the distance.
…
Bu Fang did not return so quickly from his trip. He went to the top of the mountain and spent the night there. Then, with the hoe, he dug up a jar of wine under a boulder.
“It’s been brewing for three years, and it’s finally ready…”
Bu Fang smiled. After being buried on top of the mountain for three years, baptized by the essence of heaven and earth as well as seasoned by the aura of the mountain, the wine was absolutely extraordinary. He lifted the lid slightly, and a strong fragrance of wine immediately gushed out. He took a deep breath, intoxicated.
At this moment, clouds rolled over and formed a sea of clouds just under the mountain peak, while wisps of purple energy seemed to come from the east and merged with the wine. Bu Fang’s eyes narrowed. Although he only used the most common ingredients, he still managed to make such an amazing wine.
Snowflakes fell from the sky. Sitting cross-legged on the top of the mountain, Bu Fang took out a cup and filled it with wine. The liquid was blue like the color of the sky. He took a sip. The rich aroma of wine immediately rushed through his body. He shuddered a little.
The wine was the essence of his so many years of accumulation. Perhaps it did not carry too strong emotions, but it brought clarity to his eyes. After drinking it, he watched as the sea of clouds churned before him with a mind as calm as still water.
How should he walk his road to become a God of Cooking? Should he really throw away all his emotions and desires like Soul God and take the ruthless path like the Great Path of the Primitive Universe? But could ruthless cuisine really bring him to the top?
Or, as he had previously thought, he only needed to gather the best ingredients in the world and cook the most delicious dishes to become a God of Cooking? Perhaps neither was right. Perhaps the real God of Cooking was not what he had imagined.
Bu Fang sipped his wine in silence and watched the clouds roll in.
…
The next day, Bu Fang descended the mountain. It was not easy to get down through the sea of clouds, but he used his bamboo stick to probe the way and found his path home effortlessly. When he returned to the hut, however, he was slightly taken aback.
In the distance, a figure knelt in the snow. White snowflakes had covered him, as if wrapping him into a snowman. Eighty was walking leisurely around the yard with its head held high. Upon sensing Bu Fang’s return, it raced toward him, crowed, and leaped.
1
Bu Fang raised his hand, grabbed Eighty’s neck, and threw it over Whitey’s head. Looking at Dugu Wushuang who was on his knees, he said, “Why haven’t you left yet?”
Wushuang stared at Eighty with a resentful look on his face, which was covered with chicken footprints. “Senior, I was wrong,” he said, kowtowing to Bu Fang.
“You should leave here…” Bu Fang shook his head and said faintly. He stepped into the hut, put down his things, and went out into the yard. He began to wash the vegetables and cook. His movements were flowing, and soon, a rich fragrance of food lingered in the air.
Wushuang felt a strong sense of hunger as he sniffed the fragrance. ‘Why is it so fragrant?! Isn’t that just a plate of simple stir-fried vegetables?’ As the number one Sword God of the Empire, he had tasted all the delicacies in the world. However, he had never smelled anything so delicious.
Bu Fang ignored him. He brought the cooked dish to the table and ate it while drinking. When he had finished, he frowned and sighed. Putting down his cup, he muttered to himself, “I haven’t had any fragrant rice in a long time… I quite miss the taste now.”
After clearing the plate, Bu Fang went into the hut, put on his bamboo hat, and picked up the basket full of fat fish. “I should go down the mountain to exchange some rice with the villagers.”
Dugu’s face went black when he saw Bu Fang leaving the hut again. ‘Can this Immortal Master have the heart to see me kneeling here all the time?’ Eighty kept walking back and forth in front of him, making him angry and afraid.
1
Grabbing the bamboo stick, Bu Fang began to walk down the mountain. Du Gu’s eyes lit up at the sight. ‘Oh? Immortal Master is going down the mountain?’ At the thought of that, he stood up, patted his somewhat numb knees, and with the sword in his hand, hurried after Bu Fang. He followed at a distance, not daring to disturb him.
Bu Fang followed the path he remembered as he headed for the village. He had not been there for years and wondered if the villagers could still remember him. Although he had lost his cultivation base, he could still sense that Dugu Wushuang was following him. But he did not care. The guy could follow all he wanted.
He walked along the muddy path. Soon, the silhouette of the village appeared ahead.
When Wushuang saw where Bu Fang was heading, his expression became a little odd. He wanted to say something, but after thinking about it, he did not open his mouth.
Bu Fang arrived in the village. A cold atmosphere greeted him and made his brows furrow. The village was a mess and in a state of disrepair. The farm tools were all covered with snow, and some of the houses had collapsed. There was no one in the village as if it was deserted.
“Immortal Master… I don’t know what your relationship is with this village, but it was slaughtered three years ago. Of the three hundred villagers, none survived…” Dugu said, sighing.