Chapter Thirty-Three: The False Cannot Become True

An incredible scene unfolded.

A crisp sound cut through the air. The flood dragon’s mountain-sized head was sent flying by that single slap, crashing heavily into the water and kicking up countless sprays.

Lin Fei walked across the small bridge, then stopped and turned to look down at the water. The flood dragon’s terrifying body began to shrink, and the water level dropped accordingly. Before long, the once-majestic dragon had transformed into a golden carp with a white tail, over a meter in length. A vivid slap mark remained on the left side of its fish head, making it look particularly striking.

The golden carp leaped about in the water, its eyes filled with grievance and resentment, as if silently protesting the youth’s actions. It let out a whimpering, whining sound, appearing both magical and amusing.

"How interesting. A golden carp of this size must have lived for a century; its spiritual energy is incredibly pure..." Lin Fei stared at the carp in the water, muttering to himself, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Though, I wonder how it tastes," he added softly.

"Whimper, whine..."

The golden carp seemed to understand his words; it immediately stopped its whimpering and quietly swam a few meters away. Its two fish eyes watched Lin Fei warily from the water, not daring to make another sound, as if truly worried it might be caught by the youth and turned into soup.

"Your shapeshifting skills are truly mediocre. Don't transform into a flood dragon again," Lin Fei said, turning to walk away. "I have killed more real flood dragons than you have ever turned into."

...

The youth passed through the belly of the mountain, and the surrounding temperature gradually dropped. A dense forest appeared before him, and the roar of a waterfall could be vaguely heard. Lin Fei stepped on the thick, fallen leaves, venturing deep into the woods.

Soon, wisps of white mist drifted in from all directions, gradually filling the air until a thick fog shrouded the entire forest, blurring everything beyond five meters. Lin Fei remained unmoved by the change, his steps firm as he continued forward.

Half an hour, an hour... two hours passed. The sound of the waterfall echoed in his ears, yet Lin Fei seemed to be walking in place, unable to advance even a single step.

"An array?" The youth finally stopped, his brow furrowed as he looked up at the sky.

The sound of the flowing water was crisp and melodic, with a distinct rhythm. A flash of realization crossed Lin Fei’s eyes; he closed them and strode forward.

...

This was a dense forest with thick, sturdy trees. If one walked with their eyes closed, it would be easy to collide with the trunks and potentially get hurt. Yet, surprisingly, Lin Fei did not strike a single tree.

Whenever he seemed about to collide with a trunk, his body would strangely distort, as if passing through an invisible barrier. Ripples would appear on the surface of the tree, swallowing his figure, and he would immediately reappear from behind another tree a few meters away. This scene played out repeatedly; Lin Fei’s figure flickered in and out of the forest, as if performing a mysterious act of teleportation.

Finally, Lin Fei stopped and slowly opened his eyes. Before him stood a magnificent palace, a hundred zhang high, standing tall and imposing.

Lin Fei stepped into the palace, feeling slightly displeased. He had never liked walking, but having to trek so much these past few days left him irritable. The interior of the palace was somewhat gaudy—glazed lamps, white-wood furnishings, and ornate chairs—all shimmering with golden, luxurious extravagance.

Lin Fei, however, was uninterested. His gaze pierced through the superficial opulence, sensing a deeper aura. As he ventured deeper into the palace, the sword intent grew stronger, and the air seemed filled with an irrepressible, murderous aura.

Upon reaching the depths of the main hall, his gaze landed on a sword, just as he had expected. The sword hung silently in the center of the hall, tip pointing downward, floating slightly as if waiting for something.

As the youth’s gaze touched the blade, a majestic light-image emerged from it, gradually coalescing into the figure of a man. He carried a dignified air, hands clasped behind his back, though his face remained blurred.

"You are quite good," the figure said, his voice low and powerful. "To reach the summit in only one day, you are indeed qualified to become my disciple."

Lin Fei did not respond immediately, merely staring at the sword. The ancient sword "Chaos"—this was the personal weapon of the Sect Master, known to everyone in the Sword Sect. But Lin Fei knew better: Chaos was not just a sword; it was a blood-stained, malevolent blade that had tasted the life force of countless beings. He had once fought the owner of this sword—one of the hardest battles of his life. But in the end, he had won, for he had never known defeat. Thus, the identity of the man in the sword was not hard for Lin Fei to guess.

The majestic man commanded in a deep voice, "Kneel and accept the inheritance."

Lin Fei shifted his gaze from the blade and asked a question that seemed simple yet profound: "Why?"

The man appeared to have heard an absurd question. He replied arrogantly, "To become my disciple, kneeling is the most basic etiquette. Do you really need to ask why?"

...

Lin Fei nodded slightly and whispered, "Very well."

He stepped forward, approaching the man’s light-image. Suddenly, a flash of black light erupted, and sword energy surged. A sword appeared in Lin Fei’s hand, his stance already locked into a strike.

At that moment, the majestic light-image collapsed and dissipated into the air. Lu Chen was merely an ordinary disciple in the Mortal Realm, while that Sect Master was a top-tier Sword Immortal of the continent; the gap between them was as vast as a chasm. Yet, the strike Lin Fei delivered was so decisive and effortless, as if victory had been in his grasp all along.

Even more baffling was that, even now, the peerless malevolent sword remained floating silently in the air, motionless, as if completely unaware of what had just occurred.

"Everything here is too fake, too gaudy." Lin Fei stood in the empty hall, his voice echoing. "I was displeased with the taste here from the start, and only when I reached this point did I realize why."

His voice carried a hint of disdain as he continued, "False things will always be false; how could they ever become real?"

As his words fell, the entire palace shook violently, then collapsed, turning into ruins.

Lin Fei opened his eyes again, not knowing how many times he had awakened. A waterfall hung perfectly between the mountains, neither too large nor too small. Below it lay a brilliant sea of flowers, and Lin Fei stood in the midst of this floral ocean.

The sunlight fell softly, the scent of flowers drifted on the breeze, and butterflies danced among the blooms. Occasionally, one could catch a glimpse of lively squirrels and young rabbits playing in the flower sea. Beside the flowers, a clear lake lay still, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds like a vivid painting. Everything around was vibrant, harmonious, and tranquil.

Lin Fei looked up toward the waterfall, where a few simple huts stood. On the edge of the cliff in front of the huts, a middle-aged man sat, holding a book in one hand. His temperament was gentle and indifferent to the world. Behind him was the blue sky, and before him was the cliff of the waterfall, forming a serene and harmonious picture.

Lin Fei watched him quietly. The man seemed to sense his gaze; he slowly lowered his book and looked down in return.