Chapter 285: Dozens Red
Dozens Red . . .
Cha Eun Xiao chose his words with utmost tact. He diplomatically disavowed any previous encounters with Master Bai, simultaneously asserting his own standing. "While you may be an esteed figure of great influence," he began, his tone asured, "I have no desire to seek proximity to those of high social status based solely on a vague sense of familiarity. Such actions would be distasteful."
A wistful smile graced his lips as he continued, "Please, do not find amusent in my words. I must admit, I am inherently retentive by nature. In fact, I once jestingly proclaid myself the most retentive individual in the world. Ordinarily, when I et soone, their visage becos etched in my mory, leaving a lasting impression. It is never relegated to a re shadowy recollection. Master Bai, you are an exceptional man, and if our paths had indeed intersected, I am confident that the mory would have been indelible."
His countenance took on an expression of deep contemplation, and he sighed as if grappling with a vexing puzzle. "However," he confessed, his brows furrowing in genuine perplexity, "I possess an inexplicable sense of familiarity when I look at you. Regrettably, I am unable to recollect the specific circumstances of our prior eting. It is a peculiar conundrum. You assert that we have crossed paths, and yet, I struggle to pinpoint the exact context. Could you, perhaps, provide a clue? Such an indication might serve as the key to unlock the depths of my mory."
Cha Eun Xiao's deanor reflected his earnest endeavor to recall the elusive mory.
Master Bai appeared sowhat placated by this response. It was a rational explanation, one that resonated with his own puzzlent. "It is true," he ruminated inwardly. "Few who encounter retain any lasting mory. The real enigma lies in the question of where and when our paths intersected, leaving us both with a sense of recognition but no concrete recollections."
After a mont of contemplation, Master Bai shifted the focus of their conversation. In asured tones, he inquired, "Feng Monarch, you ntioned a particular phrase: 'Storms are not ant to be chaotic; the martial world is not the world.' Where did you first encounter these words, and do you comprehend their significance and implications?"
Cha Eun Xiao recognized the gravity of this mont. The response he provided could potentially determine his fate within this room. It was a pivotal juncture where words could shape destiny, and he treaded cautiously. "I heard these words," he began, introducing a pause that hung heavily in the room, "from soone I once t."
Silence enveloped them as Master Bai and Wan-Er remained poised, awaiting Cha Eun Xiao's forthcoming explanation.
The palpable tension settled over the room, casting a shadow over the exchange.
Cha Eun Xiao anticipated that either Master Bai or Wan of the Cloud would inquire further, prompting him to unveil the next chapter of his tale. The art of storytelling often hinged on such monts, where the audience's curiosity propelled the narrative forward. However, the two enigmatic listeners displayed no inclination for interaction, leaving Cha Eun Xiao with no choice but to forge ahead on his own.
Resigned to the task, he began to elucidate, "His na was Dozens Red."
The na elicited a murmur of contemplation from Master Bai, while Wan-Er lifted her gaze to regard Cha Eun Xiao with heightened interest.
"Dozens Red and I," he continued, his tone infused with genuine sorrow, "shared a profound bond, having lived in close companionship, mutually supporting one another for an extended period. We were the closest of friends. Tragically, fate intervened one day, leading to his untily demise at the hands of an assassin. In his final monts, he imparted a cryptic ssage to …"
Cha Eun Xiao's deanor exuded palpable grief as he recounted the somber mory. Master Bai's eyebrows twitched subtly, registering a degree of intrigue, while Wan-Er's countenance darkened as she leaned forward, prompting him to elaborate.
"What were his parting words?" she inquired with asured solemnity, finally interjecting into the narrative.
At last, a question had surfaced, and Cha Eun Xiao seized the opportunity to elucidate further. "He said," he began, his voice carrying the weight of the mory, "'If one day you should encounter my master, convey to him my understanding: 'Storms are not ant to be chaotic; the martial world is not the world… It is a lant that this realization dawned upon too late.'"
With a sense of finality, Cha Eun Xiao concluded his recounting, leaving a pregnant pause in the room. Wan-Er's deanor had shifted from detached composure to solemn contemplation, while Master Bai maintained his stoic silence. Yet, his eyes, once serene as a placid lake, had transford into deep pools of intensity and discernnt.
As the room hung in silence, the gravity of the situation perated the air. Cha Eun Xiao sensed that the enigmatic Master Bai harbored a wealth of untold knowledge, and his final revelation had laid bare a critical connection between their pasts.
In truth, the appellation "Dozens Red" was but a fragnt of the full na, which should have been "Dozens Red Dust" – a moniker that held deeper connotations and unveiled another layer of intrigue within this enigmatic tale.
Centuries ago, a shadowy figure known as Dozens Red Dust had been a prominent figure within the House of the Chaotic Storm, serving as a key operative under the employ of Master Bai. His enigmatic past included a period of allegiance to Xiu of the Heaven, further attesting to his significance within the martial world.
However, the House of the Chaotic Storm had t an abrupt and inexplicable dissolution, dispersing its mbers to far-flung corners of the world. When Master Bai eventually reerged from his self-imposed seclusion, he contemplated the prospect of reuniting with those he had once led. Regrettably, the passage of ti had eroded the trail of their existence, leaving him without a ans of tracing their whereabouts.
It was during these uncertain tis that tidings of Dozens Red Dust's demise reached Master Bai's ears. The bearer of this grim news was none other than Feng Zhiling, the monarch presiding over the auction house. Among the myriad words spoken by Feng Zhiling, two lines held particular significance.
During Master Bai's previous reentry into the mortal realm, he had observed a celestial anomaly in the form of the Heavenly Mystery, emitting a resplendent radiance within the firmant. It was on this occasion that he had uttered those cryptic lines, "Storms are not ant to be chaotic… The martial world is not the world!"
At that juncture, Master Bai believed that this collapse would mark his final return to the mortal realm. With those words, he had hoped to conclude the existence of the House of the Chaotic Storm, surmising that this cataclysmic event would not herald the world's end.
He had harbored intentions of resuming his destined role in the Outer Nine Sky, ard with the enigmatic power of the Heavenly Mystery. To Master Bai, the martial world was but a minuscule domain, an inconsequential speck within the grand tapestry of existence.
With the utterance of those cryptic words, he had initiated the dissolution of the House of the Chaotic Storm, intending to return to his rightful station, accompanied by the Heavenly Mystery.
Yet, fate had intervened in a most unexpected manner. The Heavenly Mystery had slipped through his grasp, necessitating the arduous task of resurrecting the House of the Chaotic Storm, all in preparation for another imminent collapse.
In the aftermath of the House's disbandnt, Master Bai's profound declaration had echoed in the ears of those prominent figures who had once stood by his side, leaving an indelible mark upon their mories.
In the wake of their dispersion to disparate corners of the world, each mber of the House of the Chaotic Storm retained a vivid recollection of the last words uttered by their revered master.
The phrase "storms are not ant to be chaotic; the martial world is not the world" had taken root in their collective mory, its significance subject to a multitude of interpretations.
These words had emanated from the mouth of a master akin to a deity, lending them an aura of profound wisdom and mystique.
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