Renegade Immortal Chapters 70-72: Homecoming, Seclusion, and the Foundation Building Dilemma

The path of cultivation is a lonely one, marked by long absences and the slow erosion of mortal ties. For Wang Lin, the weight of five years away from home settled upon him as he stood before the familiar wooden gate of his parents’ house. The journey back had been swift, a streak of rainbow light cutting across the sky toward the only place that required no divine sense to locate—it was etched in his bones. The cold calculus of his recent actions, the creation of the puppet Zhou Peng, and the bloody orders he had issued still lingered in his mind like a chill fog. But here, before this gate, a different kind of tension took hold, one composed of guilt, longing, and the simple fear that things might have changed beyond recognition.

Before he even pushed the gate open, a familiar, gruff voice washed over him, a sound that instantly dissolved years of separation. “Little brat, how can anyone be as bad a carpenter as you? Just look at it… this isn’t even half as good as what my son can do.” It was his father’s voice, filled with mock exasperation and undeniable pride. The reply was younger, earnest. “Master, Tie Zhu is an immortal now. How could I ever compare to him? If I can be even half as great as he is, I’ll be satisfied.” Wang Lin recognized the speaker—Little Six, a childhood playmate who had always pestered his father for lessons. A faint, genuine smile touched Wang Lin’s lips. Some things, it seemed, remained steadfast.

He pushed the door open gently. The figure in the yard, back slightly more bent than he remembered, stilled. “Dad, Tie Zhu is back,” Wang Lin said, his voice softer than it had been in years.

The old man trembled. The tool in his hand clattered to the ground. He turned, and his eyes, clouded with age and sudden emotion, fixed on the young man before him—a youth of twenty, bearing the familiar features of his son, yet tempered by an otherworldly calm. “Tie Zhu?” His father’s voice was a whisper, then a cry as tears traced the deep lines of his face. He rubbed his eyes fiercely, as if disbelieving the vision.

Wang Lin stepped forward and embraced his father, feeling the thinness of his shoulders through the rough fabric. He carefully wiped the tears away, studying the beloved, weathered face. Then, he took three deliberate steps back and knelt on the hard-packed earth of the yard. “Dad, Tie Zhu hasn’t been a good son, not visiting at all in the last five years.”

“It really is Tie Zhu!” His father’s exclamation was pure joy. He pulled Wang Lin up, his hands gripping his son’s arms, looking him over with a radiant smile. “Tie Zhu, you grew taller. You’ve almost caught up to your dad. You also have become sturdier. Good, that’s my son!”

The commotion brought Wang Lin’s mother rushing from the house. She stopped in the doorway, her hands flying to her mouth. Her eyes, filled with a love that had waited five long years, poured tears that spoke of sleepless nights and constant worry. Wang Lin moved to her and knelt again. “Mother, Tie Zhu came back to see you.”

Her tears fell faster. “You…how could you be so heartless?” she scolded through her weeping, her voice a mixture of anger and overwhelming relief. “You haven’t come back to see us at all in the last five years. Do we still exist in your heart? In these five years, your father and I have been constantly thinking about you…” Her words dissolved into sobs as she finally drew him into a tight embrace, her tears soaking into his robe.

His father, ever the pragmatist amidst emotion, looked on fondly. “Our child is an immortal, so he must focus on more important matters. Just look at how you’re acting. It will become the joke of the town.” He then turned to the wide-eyed Little Six. “Little Six, you can go home. Don’t bother coming back for a few days. I’ll call you when Tie Zhu leaves.” The young apprentice nodded eagerly, casting a final look of awe at Wang Lin before scurrying away.

That evening, the small house was filled with warmth and the rich aromas of a feast. Wang Lin’s mother had cooked every one of his favorite dishes. Though he had long since transcended the need for mortal food, the flavors of home, infused with memory and love, were irresistible. As they ate, they spoke of the intervening years. His parents asked about the colossal mountain that had appeared over the Heng Yue Sect. Wang Lin’s heart clenched, but he offered a carefully constructed lie. “The Heng Yue Sect moved,” he said, his tone even. “So I won’t be able to come back as often.” They accepted this without probing, their concern solely for his well-being. “Just take care of your body,” his mother insisted, piling more food onto his plate.

He learned of the mundane, precious changes. Relatives visited more often now. With Fourth Uncle’s influence, his father had reclaimed his share of the family inheritance. His father no longer carved as much with his own hands but had taken on apprentices, passing his skill to the next generation. Little Six, it seemed, was the most promising, having mastered half of the craft already.

Wang Lin smiled. “Dad, I saw the wood carving Little Six made. They were pretty good, not nearly as bad as you were saying.”

His father snorted, but pride glinted in his eyes. “They are still far too poor! When I taught you how to carve, you were only eight years old, and you were already doing better than him!”

The conversation then took a turn Wang Lin had dreaded. His mother looked at him, her eyes soft but insistent. “Tie Zhu, you aren’t young anymore. In these past five years, many families have come to ask about marriage. Mom heard that immortals can also have families. Since you are back, stay for a while and go see them with mom. If there are any good ones, we can decide on the matter.”

Wang Lin nearly choked. A wry smile found its way to his face. “Mother, how old do I look? Please don’t worry about this.”

His mother’s expression turned stern. “Little brat, all of the people your age in the village already have kids running around.”

He rubbed his nose, a boyish habit resurfacing. “Mom, creating a family is a big deal. Wait a few years and I’ll bring one back. How’s that?”

Seeing his wife gearing up for further persuasion, Wang Lin’s father coughed. “Wife, why are you worried about these pointless things? Our son is an immortal. Do you understand immortals? How could they marry a mortal? Tie Zhu is saying that he will bring back an immortal wife. Do you understand?”

His mother paused, muttering under her breath, “What’s so good about immortals? Immortals can leave home and not come back for five years. If I have an immortal daughter-in-law, then my son probably won’t even bring her back after ten years.” She finally glared at Wang Lin, relenting. “Fine, I’ll listen to your dad. I guess you have your sights set on something high and the girls in the villages won’t catch your eye. Mom will wait and see what kind of girl you bring back.”

Wang Lin quickly placated her. “Mom, don’t worry. Your son will definitely bring you back a good daughter-in-law.” The promise felt both tender and impossibly distant, a vow made in the warm light of a family hearth, worlds away from the cold, treacherous path he walked.

The night deepened with endless questions and shared stories until his parents, exhausted by happiness, finally retired. Wang Lin lay in his old bed, but sleep was a habit of the past. He sat up, gazing at the moon through his window. With a wave of his hand, a gourd of wine appeared, and he took a long, thoughtful drink. The domestic peace was a balm, but it also sharpened his awareness of the gulf between this life and his own. The spiritual energy required to break through from the peak of Qi Condensation to Foundation Building was a monstrous mountain looming before him.

“The amount of spiritual energy needed is simply too great,” he muttered to the quiet room. “It is time to start gathering dew in earnest.”

The ghost in the bead, Situ Nan, stirred. “That’s right. Hey brat, when do you plan on going to find wood element to help complete the heaven defying bead? That’s another path to power.”

Wang Lin pondered, the moonlight casting his profile in silver. “First, I’ll find a place nearby to prepare to break through to Foundation Building. Then, I’ll have to see how things are going with Zhou Peng. If nothing unusual happens, I’ll leave this place.” His plans were set. The warmth of home was a temporary respite, not a destination.

He stayed for half a month, savoring the simple routines, helping with small chores, and listening to his parents’ stories. The day of departure arrived with a familiar ache. His mother’s tears and his father’s stoic, proud nod followed him as he ascended into the sky in a flash of rainbow light. A profound gloom settled in his heart as he flew away. He did not know when, or if, he would ever return. The world of cultivation was fraught with peril, and the journey ahead promised no safe passages.

He scoured the mountains near his home, avoiding the cave with the spatial crack due to its proximity to the Heng Yue Sect and its lack of a water source. His cultivation, reliant on the mysterious dew, demanded it. Finally, he found a suitable cave near a mountain peak, housing a pool of underground water. The space was frequented by wild animals, but it was secluded and defensible. After a thorough inspection, he used the Attraction Technique to seal the entrance with massive rocks, plunging himself into darkness and solitude. Thus began his second major closed-door cultivation session.

The Flow of Four Silent Years

Time, meaningless in the dark, damp cavern, flowed like the silent underground pool. One year bled into two, then three, then four. Wang Lin sat in meditative stillness, his consciousness divided between gathering spiritual energy from the heavens and monitoring, through a faint connection, the puppet Zhou Peng at the Xuan Dao Sect.

In the wider world, he was being erased. The remnants of the Heng Yue Sect gradually forgot the unremarkable disciple named Wang Lin, presuming him dead in the chaotic annexation. Liu Wenju and the elder woman felt a pang of regret for letting him leave. Lu Song, however, was quietly pleased, his path to becoming the senior disciple among the Heng Yue survivors now unobstructed. Huang Long and the others of that generation, who had never paid Wang Lin much mind, soon lost his memory entirely.

Through Zhou Peng’s eyes and senses, Wang Lin observed the first year’s reports. All Foundation Building elders and above, including Patriarch Pun Nanzi, were in deep seclusion in the back mountains. No one detected the puppet’s unnatural state. Wielding the authority of the Xuan Dao Sect’s senior disciple, Zhou Peng systematically gathered information and discreetly eliminated those disciples who had shown malice toward Wang Lin in the past. One by one, threats vanished, and with them, the memory of Wang Lin faded from the minds of the living.

Within the cave, Wang Lin’s cultivation progressed, yet a formidable barrier stood immovable. He reached the peak of Qi Condensation relatively quickly, but the leap to Foundation Building was a chasm he could not cross. The spiritual energy he accumulated, vast as it was, seemed insufficient to catalyze the qualitative transformation within his body. He attempted the breakthrough multiple times, each failure a silent echo in the dark.

Outside, nature reclaimed his hideaway. Lush vegetation crawled over the sealed entrance, rendering it invisible. The spot, however, had become unusual. Two years into his seclusion, a powerful pulse of spiritual energy had inadvertently leaked from Wang Lin during a failed breakthrough attempt. This pulse, and the subsequent, rhythmic waves emanating from his cultivation, acted as a beacon to spirit-sensitive beasts. The cave entrance became a gathering ground for various animals and low-level crystal spirit beasts, all drawn to the rich energy to aid their own rudimentary cultivation. They sat in quiet circles, unknowingly keeping watch over the human cultivating within.

Unwelcome Visitors

On a day indistinguishable from any other in his seclusion, the tranquility of the beast gathering was shattered. Two streaks of rainbow light descended from the sky, resolving into three figures. The leader was a middle-aged man in black, standing proudly on a green flying sword that exuded a cold, sharp aura. Beside him was a young woman, strikingly beautiful with a clear, melodic voice. If Wang Lin had been watching, he would have recognized her—the girl surnamed Xu, who had once harbored a secret affection for Wang Zhuo. Four years had matured her from a pretty teenager into a lovely young woman. Clinging to her side was a youth, clearly the junior of the group.

“Third senior brother, you have to help me find a crystal spirit beast,” the girl, Xu Fei, pleaded. “The competition to enter the back mountain is soon and I need a good wood crystal spirit beast to refine into a sword spirit. With that, I’ll win for sure.”

The middle-aged man, Li Hai, nodded, his gaze distant before refocusing. “Junior sister, work hard and strive to get into the back mountain. After I help you capture one, I’ll have to return to closed-door training myself.”

The youth complained, “Senior brother and sister, you two are flying too fast. I can’t even keep my eyes open. Since we are here already, let’s go down.”

Xu Fei tapped his head playfully. “Junior brother, didn’t you say that you had to follow? I already told you your cultivation isn’t high enough.”

Li Hai turned, his expression stern. “Junior brother, your talent is good, but if you can’t even stand this little bit of hardship, how will you cultivate in the future?” The youth, cowed, quickly apologized.

As they bantered, Xu Fei’s eyes swept the area, noting the unusual congregation. “Third brother, look at this place. I remember it being very different from before. Why are there so many wild animals cultivating around here?”

Li Hai scanned the area, his divine sense brushing over the beasts and the vegetated cliff face. “This place is indeed strange. Two years ago, there was a sudden burst of spiritual energy which attracted these beasts. Since then, waves of spiritual energy have been sent out from around here. That is what attracts them.”

The youth’s eyes lit up with avarice. “Elder martial brother, could there be a treasure here?”

Li Hai chuckled dismissively. “There were some elders that also thought so, but after searching, they determined it was a natural occurrence.” The youth sighed in disappointment.

Just as Li Hai prepared to search for a suitable crystal beast, the atmosphere changed. Every beast in the clearing suddenly stirred, muscles tensing. Low growls rumbled in their throats, which quickly escalated into a chorus of panicked roars. Their collective gaze was fixed, not on the intruders, but on the densely vegetated cliff face—the sealed entrance to Wang Lin’s cave.

Li Hai’s expression shifted from calm to alarm. “Something’s wrong—” he began, but his warning was cut short.

An immense, overwhelming divine sense exploded from the cliff, sweeping over the clearing like a tidal wave. To Li Hai, at the 12th layer of Qi Condensation, it felt like a physical weight, crushing and absolute. The flying sword under his feet shuddered violently. Beside him, Xu Fei gasped as her control shattered; her sword flickered and died, sending her and the clinging youth tumbling toward the ground. Li Hai’s own sword faltered. Grunting with effort, he dove, grabbing his two juniors just before they hit the earth. The simple rescue left him drenched in cold sweat.

On the ground, Xu Fei’s face was pale as paper. The youth was paralyzed with terror, his fingers clenched white in her sleeve. Li Hai quickly clasped his hands, bowing deeply toward the cliff. “Junior is Xuan Dao Sect’s disciple, Li Hai. I didn’t know senior was cultivating here. Please forgive our intrusion.”

Xu Fei followed suit, her voice trembling but clear. “Junior is Xuan Dao Sect’s disciple Xu Fei.”

The beasts were now prostrate on the ground, whining in submission, all aggression gone, replaced by primal fear.

A long, heavy silence followed, thick enough to choke on. Then, an ancient, resonant voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, devoid of identifiable emotion. “Xuan Dao Sect…”

Li Hai’s heart sank. He calculated frantically. Alone, he might have risked flight at the first sign of danger. But with two junior disciples in tow, abandonment meant severe punishment from the sect. He could only cling to the hope that their affiliation and lack of direct offense would spare them. He resolved silently that if killing intent emerged, he would flee for his own life regardless.

Xu Fei, seeing her normally unflappable senior brother so visibly shaken, grew even more nervous. She gathered her courage. “Senior, junior hasn’t done anything to offend you. You…”

The ancient voice interrupted her, a note of curiosity entering its tone. “You said your name is Xu?”

She was taken aback. “Disciple is named Xu,” she confirmed respectfully.

Another silence ensued, longer this time, filled with unseen contemplation. Finally, the voice let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of forgotten years. “You can leave.” As the words faded, the very air around them moved. An invisible, irresistible force wrapped around the three and hurled them backward like leaves in a gale, sending them flying far from the cliff face.

Li Hai felt a moment of utter helplessness, his body completely immobilized. The sheer power behind that casual gesture was terrifying. The moment the force vanished, he did not waste a second. Without a word, he grabbed his two juniors and shot into the sky, pouring every ounce of spiritual energy into his escape, desperate to put as much distance as possible between them and the formidable senior who might yet change his mind.

The Dilemma of Foundation Building

After the intruders vanished, the cloaked cliff began to tremble. Vines and shrubs shook loose, crumbling away to reveal the dark, man-made cave entrance. From the shadows, a figure emerged.

It was Wang Lin. Four years of seclusion had lengthened his hair into a black cascade that reached his waist. His skin was pale from lack of sun, but his eyes shone with a sharp, penetrating light that held no youthful softness. As he stepped into the open air, the prostrate beasts whimpered, their eyes pleading for mercy. He ignored them, his cold gaze lifting toward the distant, oppressive silhouette of the Heng Yue Mountain. A complex mix of emotions—regret, determination, frustration—swirled within him.

He had reached the peak of Qi Condensation long ago. Yet, the Foundation Building stage remained an elusive summit, its path blocked by an insurmountable wall of required energy. “I have tried it many times, but am still unable to break through,” he muttered to the empty air. “Situ, will the method you mentioned really help me reach Foundation Building faster?”

Situ Nan’s voice, laced with pride and impatience, echoed in his mind. “Yes. Have you decided to use my method? I told you before: while reaching the Foundation Building stage is hard, if you use my method, it will succeed for sure.”

A cold light flickered in Wang Lin’s eyes. “But I can’t even beat someone at the Foundation Building stage. How could I catch one alive?” The method Situ Nan advocated was the Foundation Seizing Art—a vicious, forbidden technique that involved capturing a Foundation Building cultivator and forcibly extracting their foundation to catalyze one’s own breakthrough. It was a path of murder and stolen power.

Situ Nan let out a derisive laugh. “You can rest assured, because you have me here. This time, to help you, I’ll take another risk and use my technique. Find me an opening, and I can restrain the target. Find someone who has just reached Foundation Building; it will cost me less essence.”

Wang Lin fell silent, his brow furrowed. After a long moment, he sighed, a wry, troubled smile on his lips. “Situ, this foundation stealing is very vicious. Whoever I steal from will surely die. So let’s wait and see first.” His mortal conscience, though hardened, still recoiled at such premeditated, predatory murder.

“You!” Situ Nan spat with palpable discontent. “I have told you countless times, in the world of cultivation, the strong prey on the weak. Killing others for your own benefit is completely normal. With your current merciful nature, how long will it take you to reach Spirit Transformation? Hmph, if you don’t want to use my method, you can also go look for wood element. If you can fill the heaven defying bead, the upgrade should give you enough spiritual energy. If you won’t do either, and don’t have a Nascent Soul cultivator to help you, don’t even think about Foundation Building.”

Wang Lin pondered the alternatives, each fraught with its own danger and moral weight. “I wonder how other people reach Foundation Building,” he mused aloud, seeking some normative path.

Situ Nan grunted, as if explaining to a child. “It’s simple. If they have a sect, a Nascent Soul cultivator uses their own cultivation to help the disciple. If I still had my body, I could do the same for you. In my home country, Nascent Soul cultivators are as common as Core Formation here. There are enough to help disciples break through.”

The explanation only highlighted Wang Lin’s isolation. He had no powerful patron, no sect to support him. He stood alone at the precipice, with only a mysterious, amoral ghost and a heaven-defying bead for company. Before him lay two dark paths: hunt for a rare wood element treasure to complete the bead, or hunt a fellow cultivator to steal their foundation. The warmth of his home, the proud smile of his father, the tearful embrace of his mother—they all belonged to a world that was fading behind him, obscured by the grim necessities of the path he had chosen. The decision weighed heavily upon him as he stood before his cave, the gathered beasts still trembling at his feet, the vast, unforgiving world of cultivation waiting for his next move.