Chapter 142 Strange Human Nature, Death of the Old Sage
The moment Lucian finished speaking, Carl already knew what he was going to say.
Yet, he remained calm.
No anger. No blame.
He simply studied Lucian in silence before giving a light, indifferent response—
“Mm. I understand.”
“There’s no need to say more.”
“Your choice—I support it.”
But just before he turned away, Carl paused.
Without looking back, his voice carried a final message
“Before you go, let me leave you with a few words.”
“Without the family’s protection, to survive in this world—where the strong reign supreme and
the weak are trampled—you must learn to be ruthless, cunning, and decisive in battle.”
“Idealism will take you nowhere.”
“You and I, no matter how we struggle, are nothing more than wandering cultivators clawing our
way forward in a world ruled by giants.”
“If you wish to survive—if you wish to stand at the peak—then you must accept the rules of this
world.”
With that, Carl stepped forward, brushing past Lucian without another glance.
He walked through the gates of Yellow Heaven Stronghold, back into the heart of his domain.
Strangely, there was no hatred in his heart.
No rage. No impulse to kill.
He had always assumed that if Lucian ever turned against him, he would crush him without
hesitation.
Yet now, at this moment, he found himself holding back.
Perhaps it was because, they shared the same blood, they were from the same clan, they
carried the same surname, and that still meant something.
If this had been a battle for dominance, a war between sects, a contest of power, then perhaps
Carl would have sacrificed Lucian without hesitation.
But this—this was different.
At the end of the day, family was family.
As long as they stood within the clan’s laws, no internal conflict should be resolved by personal
vendettas.
If Lucian had committed a crime, then the clan’s justice should determine his fate—
Not his personal whims.
Even as they walked separate paths, even if they became enemies in the future—
As long as they both remained under the clan’s banner, Carl would abide by the family’s rules.
At the first light of dawn, Lucian stood there, watching his cousin’s retreating figure.
A thousand words hung on the tip of his tongue—
But none were spoken.
Human nature was a contradiction.
To the world, Carl was ruthless, merciless, and cold-blooded.
Yet today, he had been given every reason to kill Lucian—
To reclaim full control over Yellow Heaven Stronghold.
To eliminate a potential threat.
And yet, he had simply let him go.
Not only that; he had allowed Lucian to take more than half of Yellow Heaven Stronghold’s
forces with him.
“He should have killed me,” Lucian thought.
“That would have been the rational choice.”
“So why did he let me leave?”
Before he could find the answer, a gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Second Chief, we need to move.”
It was the old mystic, standing beside him, his expression tense.
Lucian exhaled slowly, then gave a final glance toward Yellow Heaven Stronghold’s walls.
Then, without another word, he led his forces away—
Tens of thousands of warriors marching toward a new future.
When they had finally put distance between themselves and Yellow Heaven Stronghold, the old
mystic approached once more.
His voice was low, his tone severe—
“Second Chief… your actions today were reckless.”
“You were fortunate that the First Chief chose to spare you in the end.”
“If he had decided otherwise—”
“The consequences would have been unthinkable.”
The old mystic coughed violently, his chest heaving.
A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his lips.
Lucian’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Elder! What’s happening to you?!”
Without hesitation, Lucian dismounted, rushing to support him.
“Someone call for a physician! Now!”
As he grasped the old mystic’s wrist, Lucian’s expression darkened.
Even with his limited medical knowledge, he could feel it—
The old mystic’s life force was weakening.
He was fading.
Within moments, several white-haired physicians arrived—the most skilled healers in Yellow
Heaven Stronghold.
The physicians surrounded the old mystic, carefully examining his condition.
Their expressions darkened.
“Troubling…”
“This is quite troubling indeed…”
One of the physicians inserted two silver needles into the old mystic’s body, his face turning
grim.
Yet, despite the blood trailing from the corner of his lips, the old mystic himself remained calm
and composed.
His gaze settled on Lucian, his voice carrying a gentle finality—
“Second Chief… birth, aging, sickness, and death—these are the natural cycles of the world.
There is no need to dwell on them.”
“To have followed you on this path—has been my greatest honor.”
“What I told you earlier… remember it. Always.”
The truth was, the old mystic had been poisoned long ago.
A slow-acting venom, lingering in his body for who knows how long.
He had merely been enduring it, forcing himself to hold on—
Until now.
When he warned Lucian earlier, he had already felt it—
His time was running out.
And just as he feared, the moment he spoke those words, the venom had fully spread.
The poison was no ordinary mortal toxin.
It was spiritual venom—the kind that could corrode even cultivators.
Had it been a common poison, he might have had a chance.
But this—
This was a mixture of multiple lethal venoms, each amplifying the other.
Even with detoxification pills refined by cultivators, there was no cure.
For this venom did not just harm the body—it suppressed the very spiritual energy that could
counteract it.
The only hope would have been a Level 1 cultivator, one strong enough to forcibly purge the
poison from his system.
But there was none here who could do that.
“Elder…”
Lucian’s heart weighed heavy.
This man had been his closest advisor, guiding him through countless struggles.
“How could this happen now?”
The physicians exchanged looks, then bowed their heads apologetically.
“Second Chief… we are sorry.”
“This poison—it must have come from a battle site. Perhaps when the elder touched a poisoned
artifact or an item left behind by a Venom Cultivator…”
The old mystic’s breathing grew fainter.
Lucian’s vision blurred for a moment.
This was not the first time he had witnessed death.
He had seen countless mortals succumb to the natural order.
He knew, as the old mystic had said, that death was inevitable.
But even knowing that—
He had not wanted it to come so soon.
The old mystic’s voice weakened, yet his final words carried unwavering resolve—
“Second Chief… you must think carefully before you act.”
“And in some matters—”
“You must learn to be more ruthless. More decisive.”
“Do not rely on passion and ideals alone…”
His words faltered.
His body slumped, his head tilting to the side—
And his eyes slowly shut.
He was gone.
The last breath of a man who had spent his life guiding others, extinguished in the wind.
Lucian stood still, his mind briefly adrift.
With this single loss, he had not only cut ties with Carl, but now—
He had lost his strategist. His guiding hand.
His path ahead, once clear, was now shrouded in uncertainty.
But then—
His grip tightened.
His eyes sharpened.
And his expression hardened.
After burying the old mystic, Lucian stood tall.
“Move out.”
With his orders given, he led his followers—
The exiled Crown Prince, alongside countless warriors of Yellow Heaven Stronghold forward,
into the unknown.