The last rays of the setting sun spilled onto the ancient bluestone road, casting dappled shadows from the roadside willows.
Chu Bai had thought his departure would be a quiet one. After all, though he had managed to keep his Official Status, he was also branded with the crimes of "Foundation Establishment Without Talisman" and "destroying a Spirit Realm." He was an exile, condemned to banishment.
While the Government hadn’t explicitly said so, they certainly didn’t want someone like him—a figure at the center of a storm of public opinion—to leave with any fanfare.
However, as he rounded the farewell pavilion and appeared outside the ancient city gate, his steps faltered slightly.
There, under the shadow of the towering city wall, stood a dense crowd of people.
They were not common folk looking for a spectacle, nor were they passing merchants and Travelers. They were a group of young Cultivators, dressed in a variety of exquisite Magic Robes, their bodies faintly shimmering with Spiritual Light.
There were about a hundred of them.
Chu Bai’s gaze sharpened. He instantly recognized their faces.
These hundred or so people were the candidates from Dayuan Prefecture, survivors among the five thousand from the Cyan Nether Realm.
As for the other several thousand, they hailed from the other thirty-five prefectures of Qingzhou and had been teleported back to their homes on the very day the Celestial Examination ended.
Seeing Chu Bai approach in his green robes, a stir went through the previously silent crowd. Eyes that had been dim or anxious instantly lit up with a brilliant light.
But the commotion quickly subsided, silenced by a tacit understanding, and quiet returned.
For the Court had issued the strictest of gag orders.
Everything about the revival of the Divine Spirit in the Cyan Nether Realm, the Foundation Establishment Evil Gods devouring each other, and Chu Bai consuming the Spiritual Mechanism of an entire realm—all of it had been classified as top secret.
Public discussion was strictly forbidden. Violators would be charged with the crime of wantonly debating Court affairs.
Thus, at this moment, no one shouted or caused a disturbance. No one dared to speak the shocking truths, nor did they dare to cry out the word "benefactor."
But in this case, silence spoke louder than words.
In the dead silence, a Cultivator in plain clothes was the first to step forward.
He looked at the figure in the blue official robe, a Demon Slaying Officer’s token hanging from his waist, whose aura was growing ever more unfathomable. He took a deep breath and strode forward.
He did not speak. He simply stopped about thirty feet from Chu Bai, solemnly straightened his slightly disheveled clothes, clasped his hands together, raised them above his head, and then slowly lowered them as he bowed deeply to Chu Bai.
It was an extremely solemn "half-teacher’s rite."
’Though he never taught us, he showed us the Dao with his own body. He saved us all from dire straits. He is a guiding light, a second parent.’
Behind him, the hundred-some proud, peerless prodigies of Dayuan Prefecture—who on any other day would look down on everyone and submit to no one—moved in perfect unison.
Regardless of whether they came from a Humble Family or a Noble Race, whether they knew each other before or not, they all bent at the waist, bowing deeply to the departing figure, and did not straighten up for a long time.
The city guards and passersby stared, stunned. They didn’t even notice when their weapons and parcels fell to the ground.
When had they ever seen these high and mighty Cultivator lords, who usually looked down their noses at everyone, treat a peer with such reverence—a reverence that bordered on pious awe?
The wind rose, stirring the hem of Chu Bai’s robes.
He stopped and let his gaze sweep over the familiar yet unfamiliar faces, over the rows of bent backs.
He could feel the heavy weight of their Cause and Effect, their gratitude.
Chu Bai said nothing more, nor did he step forward to help them up. He simply stood his ground, calmly raised his hands, and returned the salute with a solemn, clasped-hand bow.
After the salute, he straightened up and turned his gaze toward the vast official road to the north.
"Everyone."
Chu Bai’s voice was level, yet it carried clearly to every person’s ears:
"The mountains are high and the rivers are long. We will meet again."
There were no grand pronouncements, no need for excessive sentimentality.
With a wave of his large sleeves, Chu Bai turned, walked past the crowd, and strode resolutely out of the city.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long behind him, like a drawn sword pointing toward the distant, barbaric Extreme North.
Only when his back had completely vanished at the end of the road, melting into the vast twilight, did the hundred-some Cultivators at the city gate slowly straighten up.
They stared north, unmoving for a long time, as if seeing off a legend, yet also as if in anticipation—
’The next time that green-robed figure returns, what will the skies of Dayuan Prefecture look like then?’
「At the north gate of Dayuan Prefecture, in a corner cast in shadow by the gatehouse.」
Wei Chuan leaned against the cold, rough brick wall, his entire body huddled in the gloom where the setting sun could not reach. He watched the scene outside the city gate with an incredibly complex expression on his face.
He had made a special trip here today, nursing some dark thoughts.
’That boy from a Humble Family, the one who bested me in Anping County and made me lose face at Threadline Gorge... he may have survived, but now he’s been exiled to the Extreme North—a place of certain death—saddled with the crime of "destroying a Spirit Realm."’
’I originally wanted to see Chu Bai looking miserable and destitute, like a beaten dog.’
’I thought it would soothe my proud yet wounded Dao Heart.’
’But then I saw it with my own eyes: the scene outside the gate, with over a hundred prodigies bowing in unison, their hearts all turned to him. I saw Chu Bai in his blue official robe, his back as straight as a pine tree and his bearing magnificent, even while bound by golden shackles.’
’And especially when that terrifying Foundation Establishment Stage aura washed over me... even from so far away, a mere trace of its power made my Spiritual Power stagnate and my Qi and blood churn...’
The last shred of jealousy and competitiveness in Wei Chuan’s heart—born from his family background and seniority—was instantly extinguished, as if doused by a bucket of ice water.
Jealousy is built on the premise that the gap between two people can still be closed.

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