Crow Immortal: I Can Duplicate Infinite Resources

Chapter 250: Sins of the Past

“Little kid, what were you doing sneaking around in the middle of the night?”

Han Yu had barely stepped onto the inn’s second-floor balcony when Old Daoist Li poked his head out of the adjacent window, a knowing look on his face.

“I went out to cultivate,” Han Yu admitted. “Trying to focus in this bustling city is practically impossible.”

Between the constant noise and the lack of privacy, Han Yu hadn’t found a single moment over the past two days to study his newly acquired prizes: the complete Thousand Illusions Secret Art, the Foundation Establishment chapters of the Blood Refining Technique, and the Heavenly Secret Spindle. He desperately needed to find a secluded spot to properly digest them.

Old Daoist Li chuckled, a raspy sound in the dark. “You orthodox cultivators and your need for peace and quiet. For a Demonic Cultivator, it’s the exact opposite. The more crowded a place is, the better.”

Han Yu paused, staring at the old man. The Daoist really has a twisted sense of humor, he thought dryly. Of course Demonic Cultivators love crowds. It just means a bigger buffet of Blood Essence.

“Come over to my room,” Old Daoist Li offered, waving a hand. “Keep an old man company for a late-night snack.”

Han Yu stepped into the adjacent room. The air was heavy with a faint, metallic tang—the lingering scent of copper confirming that the old man had indeed just finished circulating his Blood Refining Technique.

Two steaming bowls of thick meat porridge sat on the small wooden table.

Han Yu took a seat, feeling a flicker of suspicion. The Daoist wasn’t the sentimental type, and they had already discussed their plans thoroughly during the day. Why call him over now? Was there a hidden agenda?

“Little kid.” Old Daoist Li picked up his porcelain spoon, slowly stirring the porridge before taking a loud slurp. “Since you left Wanchun Valley this time… have you gone back home to take a look?”

Han Yu shook his head slightly. “My grandparents died when I was young; I don’t even remember their faces. After my parents passed away, there was nothing left for me in that village. I don’t miss it.” He took a spoonful of porridge. “If we’re talking about ‘home,’ Wanchun Valley is the only home I have now.”

“So you never thought about going back to take revenge on the relatives who abused you?” Old Daoist Li asked, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Han Yu gave a dismissive shrug. “They aren’t worth the effort to hunt down. If I happen to pass through the area someday, I’ll squash them and settle the grudge. Until then, they’re nothing.”

“You won’t find them,” Old Daoist Li said, his voice dropping in temperature.

Han Yu stopped eating.

“I went to your village to sweep your grandparents’ graves,” Old Daoist Li continued, his eyes narrowing. “When I arrived, that wretched family of yours was in the middle of leveling your grandparents’ and your father’s graves. They wanted to turn the burial mounds into farmland.”

The old man sneered, the memory clearly angering him. “I stepped in. Told them I was a distant relative. You know what they did? They grabbed their hoes and cudgels, rallied a mob of villagers, and tried to beat me to death.”

Han Yu froze. The air around him instantly sharpened, his Foundation Establishment aura flaring with cold, lethal intent. “Did you deal with them, Daoist? Because if you didn’t, I am flying back there tomorrow to slaughter every last one of them.”

Old Daoist Li gave a dark, barking laugh. “Do I look like the kind of man who takes a beating from mortal peasants?” He snorted dismissively and took another bite of porridge. He didn’t elaborate further.

He didn’t need to. Han Yu perfectly understood the implication. The idiots had tried to desecrate graves in front of a volatile Demonic Cultivator and then attempted to assault him. The resulting bloodbath would have been absolute.

Han Yu stood up and offered a deep, formal bow. “Thank you, Daoist. You settled a heavy debt for me.”

“Don’t thank me,” Old Daoist Li grunted, waving his spoon. “If you ever have the time, go back and sweep their graves properly. If your grandparents have spirits in heaven, seeing their grandson walking the orthodox path and achieving Foundation Establishment… it would make them proud.”

The old man let out a heavy sigh, a complex mix of regret and sorrow clouding his features.

Spirits in heaven. It was a comforting lie mortals told themselves. Cultivators knew the harsh truth: when a mortal died, their fragile soul dissipated into nothingness. There were no spirits watching over the living.

If only there were.

Han Yu nodded silently. As he had said, he felt no lingering attachment to the village. But Old Daoist Li’s actions were a stark reminder. Sweeping the graves was a matter of basic filial piety; it wouldn’t hurt to stop by in the future.

Finishing his porridge, Old Daoist Li set the bowl down and deliberately stroked his beard. “Alright, little kid. Off to bed with you. Come wake me at the hour of the Dragon tomorrow morning. I need to get some proper rest tonight.”

Han Yu nodded. He drained the last of his bowl, walked to the door, and cast a long, calculating look at the old man before stepping out into the hall.

The moment the door clicked shut, Old Daoist Li smiled and shook his head. He pulled a small jade box from his robes and carefully placed the Talisman Treasure inside. Biting his thumb, he smeared a drop of his corrupted Blood Essence across the seal. The blood lock would prevent any mortal from opening it, and the unique signature would immediately signal to Han Yu that the Daoist had left the treasure behind.

Pleased with his cleverness, Old Daoist Li slung his pack over his shoulder and quietly eased his door open, ready to slip away into the night.

He froze.

Han Yu was standing perfectly still in the dark hallway, his aura completely masked, waiting.

“Daoist,” Han Yu said, a faint smirk on his face. “Where exactly are you sneaking off to in the middle of the night? And why are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

Even at nearly a hundred years old, getting caught sneaking out like a truant teenager made Old Daoist Li flush with embarrassment. “Heh… I just remembered some incredibly urgent business—”

“What a coincidence. I also have urgent business, and I came to bid you a proper farewell,” Han Yu interrupted smoothly. “As for the Talisman Treasure… you’re keeping it.”

Without giving the old man a chance to argue, Han Yu cupped his fists in a crisp salute, stepped back, and summoned his flying sword. In the span of a single breath, he shot into the night sky, vanishing into the darkness.

“Hey!” Old Daoist Li lunged forward, stomping his foot in frustration. “You stupid kid! Do you have a death wish?! You need that thing!”

Realizing Han Yu was already long gone, the old man threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine! Go! Get yourself killed! See if I care! I’m going to burn all five charges tomorrow just to spite you!”

He paced the hallway, muttering angrily. “You people named Han! Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn!”

“HEY! SHUT THE HELL UP OUT THERE!”

A door down the hall slammed open. A massive, bare-chested brute with a thick beard stomped out, gripping a heavy iron cudgel. “What the hell are you screaming about, you crazy old—”

Old Daoist Li snapped his head toward the man. His eyes glowed a terrifying, luminous red. In a foul mood from being outsmarted, he unleashed the full, suffocating pressure of his Foundation Establishment aura.

“Get lost.”

The sheer spiritual gravity slammed into the brute like a physical blow. The massive man suddenly felt like a helpless toddler staring down the maw of a starving tiger. All his blustering courage evaporated instantly.

“Oh.”

The brute squeaked, tucked his chin to his chest, and scrambled backward into his room, slamming the door shut. Old Daoist Li could hear the man’s teeth chattering loudly through the thin wood.

The pathetic display instantly deflated the Daoist’s anger. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

The kid is too sharp for his own good. He’ll survive. Old Daoist Li slipped the Talisman Treasure back into his robes. I’ll just force him to take it back next time we meet.

Having lost the mood to sleep, Old Daoist Li casually traded his donkey to the innkeeper to settle his bill and secure some silver travel funds. Slipping out of the city limits, he found a deserted stretch of road, transformed into a streak of crimson blood-light, and shot into the sky, disappearing into the night.

Han Yu flew southeast for the rest of the night.

According to the map he had purchased from the Wandering Merchant, the Nanhai Kingdom was located at the extreme southern edge of the Southern Region, bordered only by the supposedly endless, uncharted Nanhai Sea. The Mystic One Sect’s territory, and their sprawling cultivator market, lay nestled in the borderlands between the Nanhai Kingdom and the Yulin Kingdom.

As dawn broke, casting long shadows across the landscape, Han Yu spotted a walled city below. He descended into the woods, pulled Puppet Li Ya from his Storage Bag, applied a quick disguise, and sent the construct into the city to gather intelligence.

The puppet confirmed they had crossed into Ning’an City within the Yulin Kingdom. The border was still a hundred miles to the southeast. As for the precise location of the Mystic One Sect’s hidden mountain gates or their cultivator market, the mortal populace was completely ignorant.

Han Yu wasn’t in a rush. He recalled the puppet, mounted his flying sword, and continued southeast, keeping an eye out for a secluded mountain peak where he could finally set up a temporary camp and cultivate in peace.

A few hours later, a towering mountain peak broke the horizon. Perched near the summit was an incredibly opulent Daoist temple. Even from a distance, Han Yu could see a massive, winding procession of mortal pilgrims making the arduous climb to burn incense.

Han Yu frowned, adjusting his course to give the crowded temple a wide berth.

Suddenly, a cacophony of shouts drifted up from the mountain paths. The pilgrims had spotted his flying sword cutting across the clouds.

“An Immortal Master!”

“The Immortal Master has descended!”

“Show mercy, Immortal Master!”

Entire sections of the winding procession dropped to their knees, kowtowing fiercely against the stone steps.

Han Yu barely glanced at them. He had no interest in playing god for desperate mortals. He urged his flying sword to accelerate, intending to blur past the mountain as a streak of light.

“Fellow Daoist! Please, hold a moment!”

A figure suddenly erupted from the temple courtyard, riding a glowing artifact into the sky and accelerating to intercept Han Yu’s path.

The man floated a respectful distance away and cupped his hands in greeting. “I am Ma Quan of the Seeking Truth Daoist Temple. Would Fellow Daoist grant me the honor of a brief conversation?”