Chapter 92: Finally, An Actual Funeral
Oldd Chen leaned out the window, but he still saw nothing. Instead, rain droplets from the outstretched branches of a tree hit his face. Qing Mu stepped into the courtyard with a high-powered telescope. After an exhaustive search, he only managed to spot two crows flapping away into the distance.
"Are you certain about what you saw?" Old Chen's gaze beca unusually intense, resembling the luminous eyes of a cat in the dark. He pulled Wang Xuan inside with an air of anticipation and urgency.
"There was indeed a faint golden glow, floating amidst the clouds," Wang Xuan asserted, trying the telescope once more. The image remained hazy.
Qing Mu considered piloting a small aircraft to get a closer look, but Old Chen firmly stopped him. "Don't act rashly. This could be... a secret passage!" Old Chen whispered, nearly trembling with excitent. His agitation was so intense that the wound on his forehead threatened to reopen. Given his prowess, it was evident that whatever Wang Xuan had spotted was of monuntal importance. Chen wished he could ascend imdiately to decipher the mystery.
"It could be the Heavenly Herb," Old Chen speculated, drawing parallels with notes he had encountered in ancient manuscripts.
Qing Mu felt a jolt of anticipation. Was this the ergence of another secret path?
The decline of the Old Arts in this era was largely attributed to the disappearance of these mystical paths, cutting off access to otherworldly attributes. If this was another such path, it could an a resurgence of power and knowledge thought lost to ti.
In the early morning stillness, Old Chen's eyes shimred with anticipation. "We must exercise patience and not disturb it. We cannot risk losing this heavenly herb."
Wang Xuan expressed his astonishnt, "Is it capable of eluding us? Are we dealing with a sentient being?"
Old Chen replied thoughtfully, "We need to observe intently and remain passive. The mysteries surrounding the heavenly herb are profound. Even our ancient teachings only provide cryptic clues."
Despite his urge to get a closer insight, Qing Mu's attempts to utilize sophisticated technology were futile. Wang Xuan's gaze fixed on the srizing golden luminescence, which danced gracefully amidst the thickening clouds, but it remained unchanged.
"What if it's still in its nascent stage?" The anxiety was evident in Old Chen's voice. He recalled ancient texts suggesting that the more one yearns for the heavenly herb, the more elusive it becos. It's akin to a distant dream; just when you least expect it, it might manifest itself on the horizon.
"And if that's the case?" Wang Xuan questioned, his voice filled with urgency.
"It might retreat into hiding, only to erge once it reaches maturity in the distant future," Old Chen said, a shade of lancholy in his voice, suspecting their current observation might align with this scenario.
Wang Xuan mulled over it, "How perplexing," attempting to unravel the intricate nature of the heavenly herb.
Old Chen sighed, "The mysteries of these secret pathways are beyond comprehension."
According to the vague descriptions in the ancient manuscripts, when the heavenly herb matures, it might naturally descend to the ground. Throughout the morning, Wang Xuan could be seen craning his neck and wandering around the mansion grounds, his gaze perpetually fixed upon the sky. In his quest for the heavenly herb, Wang Xuan was intensely focused. His eyes grew weary and his neck stiffened from hours of skyward gazing, occasionally pausing to stretch his tensed muscles.
Several individuals covertly observed him from the shadows. Whispered conversations hinted at admiration for his dedication. "Success is no accident. True mastery requires unwavering concentration. His imminent ascension to Master status is well-deserved," remarked one onlooker.
"Have you noticed? He's been like this all morning. Completely imrsed in understanding his path. Watching the clouds form and disperse, pausing at tis to practice his moves. He's on his way to beco a full-fledged Master," another remarked.
During this, Qing Mu discreetly reminded Wang Xuan of the prying eyes observing him. Acknowledging this, Wang Xuan stealthily slipped into the kitchen for a quick respite, sipping on so tomato juice. As he returned to his watchful vigil, he spat out a mouthful, which appeared like 'bloody froth' staining his attire. Savoring the remaining juice, he swallowed it, enjoying its taste.
"He must've been grievously injured in last night's battle; he's still spitting blood," one person observed.
"If such a dedicated individual doesn't achieve the status of a Master, then it truly defies the natural order," another admirer noted.
Hushed conversations surrounded Wang Xuan. Each observer saw a different aspect of him, but they unanimously agreed: here was a young man with relentless drive and determination. Wang Xuan's behavior only bolstered their perceptions. Whenever the strain of looking skywards took its toll, he would relax his body and practice so arcane techniques. It was this dedication and fervor that drew the observers' attention.
When Wang Xuan seemingly "spat blood
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