Chapter 496: Han Ping — The Chance to Return Home in Glory
Everyone on Miaomiao Mountain followed the direction of the Golden-Winged Great Sage's trembling finger. There, before them, stood a small Bodhi tree about seven inches tall, radiating a faint yet sacred Buddhist glow.
"Mas… Master, this is a Saint-Grade Bodhi Tree!"
Han Paopao's face was filled with disbelief as he stared at the little tree before him. He had been cultivating spiritual herbs on Miaomiao Mountain for over ten years and prided himself on his deep understanding of all planting techniques.
Yet this Bodhi tree completely defied his knowledge.
"Indeed," Chu Feng said with a light smile. "Didn't that old monk, Master Jue Ming, once claim that with the recitation of a single Buddhist scripture, a Bodhi Seed could sprout into a Bodhi Tree? I decided to test it. Looks like the old monk wasn't lying. Still, growing it into a Divine Tree will not be easy."
He glanced around the mountain as he continued. "After all, Miaomiao Mountain only holds a Saint-grade spiritual vein, not a Divine-grade one. Without a Divine Emperor here, this is already the limit of what your master can do."
"Master, you're too modest," Han Paopao said with embarrassment. "After watching you plant this tree, I feel that the past ten years of growing herbs were all for nothing."
Chu Feng patted his shoulder. "You're still young. One day, you'll be able to cultivate a Divine Tree of your own."
Han Paopao nodded firmly. "This disciple will strive toward that day."
Chu Feng then asked, "When are you planning to return home and visit your kin?"
"I intend to leave today," Han Paopao replied.
He had originally planned to go seven days ago, but after hearing his master chant the sutra, he had lost all sense of time.
"Alright," Chu Feng said, his tone carrying the warmth of an elder's concern. "Be careful on the road."
"I will, Master," Han Paopao said earnestly.
After a few more words of farewell, he bowed deeply and departed down the mountain.
The Golden-Winged Great Sage spoke next, "Brother, after hearing your chanting these past seven days, I feel I've taken a few more steps toward the truth of the Great Dao. I'll be going into seclusion for a while."
Chu Feng smiled faintly. "Go ahead."
"Got it!"
After the Great Sage left, the other disciples also excused themselves, each intending to meditate and comprehend what they had gained from the week of enlightenment.
Bing Yan and Bing Qin went together to cultivate, while Chu Feng turned back toward the small Bodhi tree, planning to water it carefully.
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
Han Paopao, accompanied by Mandala, descended the mountain and took a teleportation array from Wendao City.
Three days later, they arrived in a mortal kingdom on the eastern side of the Xuanyuan Continent—Xu Kingdom.
Unlike cultivation nations, more than ninety percent of Xu Kingdom's people were ordinary mortals.
Han Ping had been born in Haozhou Prefecture, a small county within Xu Kingdom. As a child, he had dreamed of becoming an immortal. At twelve years old, he was discovered by a passing cultivator who detected his spiritual roots and accepted him as a disciple, opening his path to cultivation.
Most of his life had been spent as a lone cultivator until his eventual entry into Wendao Academy, which granted him his current status.
Outside the gates of Haozhou City, Han Ping stood silently, gazing at the familiar yet foreign skyline.
"It's been decades… I wonder how the younger generation of the Han family is doing now," he murmured softly.
At his side, Mandala smiled. "Since you miss them so much, let's go see them. Who knows—you might even find a few familiar faces still around."
"Mm."
Han Ping nodded, unconsciously quickening his pace.
Although the lives of mortals rarely exceeded a hundred years, Han Ping himself was not yet that old. He had sent money and longevity elixirs home over the years. Even if his parents were gone, there was still a chance his siblings might remain.
Now, at long last, the opportunity to return home in glory had finally arrived.
"Entrance fee — ten copper coins per person."
The gate guards blocked their path, faces fierce and impatient.
Han Ping didn't bother arguing with such small men. He casually tossed over a silver ingot. "Keep the change."
The soldier who caught it instantly broke into a grin. "Of course, my lord, please, right this way!"
Han Ping and Mandala said nothing more and simply walked through the gate into the city.
Behind them, the other soldiers gathered together, whispering conspiratorially.
"Those two are loaded. Should we tail them?" one of them murmured.
Smack!
Before he could say another word, the supervising officer backhanded him across the face. "You idiot! Do you want to drag us all to our graves?"
The officer squinted toward the direction Han Ping had gone and said coldly, "Did you not see the way that man looked at us? Like we were insects. For someone to have no guards and still carry himself like that—he's no ordinary fighter. He's likely one of those rumored cultivators."
Hiss…
Every soldier nearby inhaled sharply, a chill creeping up their spines.
Their entire conversation, however, was heard clearly by Han Ping and Mandala ahead.
Mandala said quietly, "The governance of Xu Kingdom is rotting. With this kind of corruption, the nation's fall can't be far off. And…" she paused, narrowing her eyes slightly, "…I can smell the scent of demons in the air."
Han Ping nodded lightly. "I was just thinking about how to make a grand return home. Seems the opportunity has presented itself. Along the way, I'll see if any of my Han family's descendants have spiritual roots. Even if they can't enter Wendao Academy, I can at least give them some techniques and resources. It wouldn't be hard to establish a small cultivation clan here in Xu Kingdom."
Mandala's eyes lit up. She smiled. "So, my lord intends to turn Xu Kingdom into a new Han Kingdom?"
Han Ping shook his head. "No need for that. I once read a saying—'A dynasty lasts a thousand years, but a family endures ten thousand.' Rather than let my descendants rule a mortal nation, I'd rather they build an immortal legacy."
As they spoke, Han Ping retrieved a Bloodline Talisman from his storage ring. Pricking his finger, he let a drop of blood fall upon it. The talisman glowed faintly before transforming into a paper crane, which fluttered into the air to guide their way.
The two did not hurry, walking leisurely through the streets. The desolation of the outer city and the prosperity of the inner city were both clearly reflected in their eyes.
Half an hour later, they arrived at a wide, bustling avenue.
The houses here were all grand courtyards with crimson walls—residences of the wealthy and powerful.
Not far ahead, a commotion drew their attention.
A crowd had gathered in front of a large manor, pointing and muttering at a young man dressed as a Daoist priest.
The youth's features were refined, and his brows faintly resembled Han Ping's own.
Before Han Ping could even approach, the young Daoist spoke in anger, "Steward Zhu, this is clearly my Han family's estate! How has it suddenly become your Zhu family's?"
His words immediately stirred outrage among the Zhu family's servants.
"Boy, how dare you speak to our Master Zhu like that! This has been the Zhu residence for years—Han Manor ceased to exist three years ago!"
"Enough!"
The steward—Zhu Yuanwai himself—raised a hand to silence his men, smiling insincerely. "Don't be rude to this young Daoist."
Hearing this exchange, Han Ping stopped walking, his expression hardening. He decided to stay back and see how the situation unfolded.
The young Daoist's tone turned urgent. "Steward Zhu, tell me—what happened? I've only been gone seven years! How could the Han family vanish? Where are my father, my mother, my elder sister, and my younger sister?"
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