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“You are a good person,” Cao Erzhu said, his eyes shining brightly.

Mei Siren stared at the child.

Cao Erzhu met his gaze with wide eyes.

Through the darkness, through his eyes…

The old Sword Saint saw the child’s pure heart, untainted by the world, like the last pristine land amidst the chaos.

“What do you see in me?” Mei Siren spoke up.

He recalled a legend about how the innocence of a child could discern the essence of a person’s spirit.

But as the words left his lips, Mei Siren chuckled wryly.

Before his sanctification, he was certain of his path as an ancient swordsman, rooted in tradition and nurturing others.

Never had he imagined that now, he would be lost, needing to rediscover himself through a child.

Was this not a kind of failure?

Cao Erzhu glanced towards the old deity’s back, about to speak, when Mei Siren halted him with a raised fan:

“No need to speak.”

Cao Erzhu hesitated, looking at the fan unfurled by the old deity, devoid of any writing, but instead adorned with an ink painting.

The painting depicted a simple schoolhouse with two trees out front—one peach, one plum—withered and fruitless.

Inside the schoolhouse sat an elderly man on a cushion, clearly very aged, with not a soul beside him, just his solitary figure.

The painting on the fan seemed to portray “solitude,” yet Cao Erzhu could not see “solitude.”

From his perspective, inside the fan’s depiction of the schoolhouse, there was only the old deity himself, with no one else.

Yet behind the old deity, Cao Erzhu saw countless illusory sword-wielding disciples.

They were devout and reverent. This power could form mountains, and oceans, and transform into anything!

The old deity in the fan was merely trapped in his chamber, willingly turning away, thus unable to see the scenery outside the schoolhouse.

Cao Erzhu stared for a long while, somewhat lost in a daze. After a while, scratching his head, he asked, “Old deity, do you ever feel lost?”

Mei Siren’s eyes flickered in surprise, glancing curiously at the big child.

He lowered his eyes in thought for a while, then looked up at Qingyuan Mountain and the night sky, murmuring somewhat puzzledly:

“Yes, suddenly I can’t see the road ahead.”

“Because I am not truly an old deity. Among my disciples, there is one who has become a great deity.”

Cao Erzhu tilted his head in contemplation, pointing behind the old deity.

“They will help you.”

Mei Siren was momentarily stunned, turning to look behind him, only to find there was nothing but a small donkey.

“Hahaha!”

Mei Siren burst out laughing.

He glanced at Cao Erzhu, then turned the fan over, repeatedly scrutinizing the self-portrait on it. He continued to laugh, gradually releasing his worries.

The laughter echoed melodiously through the forest below the mountain.

“Good!”

After a while, Mei Siren finally stopped laughing. He reached out to pat the boy’s head but ended up patting his arm twice instead.

“Come with me up the mountain. I’ll help you find the one who killed your father.”

“Be careful, Qingyuan Mountain is very dangerous tonight. You must not stray far from me until I say so, then you can leave.”

“Alright.” Cao Erzhu nodded as if his father had come alive again, finding a renewed sense of purpose.

Mei Siren didn’t bring the small donkey into the mountain, taking only Cao Erzhu.

As he slashed with his fan, a green Mo Sword emerged, cutting through the great array of Qingyuan Mountain as they made their way through it.

Cao Erzhu’s eyes lit up. Mo Sword Technique!

Mei Siren asked as they walked, “Have you studied swordsmanship?”

“Yes!”

“Is it Ancient Sword Technique?”

“Yes, they said it was.”

“Have you met an old man who also looked like a deity, but less charismatic than me, and who taught you swordsmanship?”

“Um…” Cao Erzhu hesitated, then nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

“Do you know the old man?” Cao Erzhu asked in return.

Mei Siren smiled without saying a word, feeling quite content, even the night scenery in the mountains seemed a bit more beautiful.

He pulled out a sword case, handing it to Cao Erzhu, but it remained unresponsive.

Cao Erzhu opened the sword case to find a three-foot sword of purplish-red, exceptionally splendid, and unique.

He took out the sword and examined it closely.

This time, the three-foot sword reacted, trembling slightly not in resistance but in excitement.

This sword was sharp, its murderous intent palpable, quite different from the old deity’s aura… Cao Erzhu asked:

“Whose sword is this?”

Mei Siren stroked his beard, looked up, and laughed heartily:

“This is his sword.”