Chapter 81 – The Final Task

"Longkui, Baizhi, Lianqiancao, Malin, Ziling…"

"Young Master, I've gathered all the herbs you requested!"

After finishing his porridge, Lu Fan basked in the sunlight of the small courtyard while arranging his landscape board. Just then, Ni Yu's excited voice rang out from beyond the courtyard walls.

Outside the courtyard, Ni Yu pushed open the gate, a large black cauldron strapped to her back and a bamboo basket brimming with herbs in her arms, jogging in with short, hurried breaths.

Lu Fan raised an eyebrow, calmly continuing to roll up his sleeves and place his next piece on the board.

Ni Yu dropped the cauldron onto the ground with a thud, panting.

"Young Master, including the cauldron, everything cost two taels and three qian of silver," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Lu Fan chuckled. "That was rather quick."

Indeed, food remained the most effective motivator for this girl—it always gave her the drive to get things done.

"Very well, let's head to Heartlake Island."

"Didn't you want to cultivate while eating? I'll teach you," Lu Fan said.

"Alright!" Ni Yu's eyes lit up. Carrying the cauldron and the herbs, she hummed a little tune and skipped off toward the lake.

…

The thunder of hooves cracked through the air.

Clad in full armor atop the city wall, Lu Changkong's brows furrowed as he turned his gaze to the distant plains.

A lone rider approached at great speed, stirring clouds of dust in their wake.

Before long, horse and rider reached the gates of Beiluo City.

"City Lord Lu, I come bearing an imperial decree, under His Majesty's command."

Seated upon the steed, the elderly eunuch wore a tight-fitting uniform and held a golden scroll in hand. He cupped his fist toward Lu Changkong atop the wall in greeting.

Recognizing him as one of Emperor Yuwen Xiu's trusted attendants—renowned for his martial prowess—Lu Changkong dared not show the slightest disrespect.

The gates slowly opened, and the eunuch rode into the city.

"City Lord Lu, where is your esteemed son? His Majesty's decree is for him."

The eunuch's demeanor was calm and courteous, neither arrogant nor overbearing despite his proximity to the emperor.

"Fan'er's legs are unwell. He resides on Heartlake Island for convalescence. Perhaps it would be best if you accompanied me there," Lu Changkong offered.

"I shall trouble you, then," the eunuch replied with a sharp, shrill laugh.

Leaving Luo Yue to guard the wall, Lu Changkong summoned Luo Cheng and set off with the eunuch for Heartlake Island.

…

Zui Long City.

Clad in silver armor, Jiang Li solemnly received the imperial decree.

"So, Yuan Chi and Tong'an have both fallen…"

He sighed heavily.

"His Majesty places great hope in you, Lord Jiang. Please do not disappoint him," the eunuch said.

Jiang Li gave a slight nod, ordered his men to present some silver as courtesy, and had the eunuch escorted to rest.

Shortly after the eunuch had departed, a graceful woman appeared silently behind Jiang Li, standing demurely with lowered eyes.

"My lord, we've received word—Ba Wang has returned alive to the Western Prefecture and is mobilizing his forces to storm the Mohist Mechanical City at Donghu."

Jiang Li narrowed his eyes, hands clasped behind his back.

"Mo Beike calculated every move… yet failed to account for Ba Wang. Perhaps it was not a miscalculation, but rather, something unexpected occurred…"

The woman lifted her gaze, a flicker of shock flashing across her stunning face.

"My lord, if Mo Beike foresaw all this, could your deployment to Yuan Chi and Tong'an also be part of his design?"

Jiang Li's cold smile held a trace of disdain.

"This is a game between the Grandmaster of the Mohist School and the Imperial Preceptor… who can say?"

"Still, Mo Beike is one of the few in the world who knows my weakness. So, Chilian… protect Qingniao well."

The woman—Chilian—was like living fire. A decisive light flared in her beautiful eyes.

"I shall protect her with my life!"

…

Beiluo, Heartlake Island.

A gentle breeze rustled across the lake. Ten towering chrysanthemums swayed gracefully, drawing in spiritual essence from the heavens.

Beneath them, Mo Liuqi slowly opened his eyes.

Far off, the bewitching maid of Young Master Lu sat hugging her knees by the shimmering lake, tear stains still on her cheeks.

She had sensed the Qi her master spoke of. A wisp of spiritual essence now flowed within her—she had reached the threshold of the Qi Core Realm. She had met Lu Fan's standard.

"Father… Mother… Yiyue has grown stronger."

Yiyue's lips trembled slightly as she whispered to the lake.

Mo Liuqi remained silent. He had seen many burdened with deep hatred.

He rose and stretched his limbs.

In the distance, the swordsman Jing Yue from the Sword Sect still glared vigilantly at him. Mo Liuqi smiled faintly—such dedication.

But he had no intention, nor the courage, to flee. Young Master Lu's strength was unfathomable—far beyond what he had imagined. It exceeded even that of the Grandmaster.

Nearby, Ning Zhao and Nie Changqing stood.

From the lake came the sound of a light splash.

Startled, the fish darted beneath the surface, their movements leaving ripples. Even the birds on the island took flight.

A small wooden boat approached, gently rocking on the waves.

Lu Fan sat upon the boat, his wheelchair drifting ashore.

"Young Master."

Nie Changqing, Ni Yu, Jing Yue, and even the distant Yiyue all bowed.

Mo Liuqi hesitated before offering a slight bow.

Lu Fan's smile was warm as spring.

"Sister Ning, help me… ugh…"

Ni Yu's weak voice came from the boat.

Ning Zhao leapt aboard and saw Ni Yu sprawled pitifully atop the overturned cauldron.

Ning Zhao's red lips curved slightly in indulgent amusement. This girl…

She carried Ni Yu ashore and set down both the cauldron and the herbs.

Lu Fan turned his gaze to Mo Liuqi.

"Not bad… in just a day, you've stepped into the third stage of the Qi Core Realm. You truly are one who can wield scissors with intent."

His praise drew shocked looks from Ning Zhao and Nie Changqing. To advance so far in a single day—such talent was monstrous.

"Young Master Lu flatters me. May I ask if your previous words still hold?"

Lu Fan's gaze was calm. "Naturally. Go, and bid farewell to 'A Zhu.'"

"You're ill-suited for the life of an assassin. Continue down that path, and one day, your end will be tragic."

Assassins were meant to be heartless, but Mo Liuqi was not. He loved deeply—too deeply. And such men rarely met a good end.

Mo Liuqi fell silent. Then, he stepped back and knelt on both knees before Lu Fan.

"I, Mo Liuqi, am a man of clear debts and duties. I failed my mission and deserved death, but Young Master spared my life. That life now belongs to you."

He bowed deeply, his forehead touching the ground.

Lu Fan sat in his wheelchair, his white robe fluttering gently in the breeze.

He waved his hand.

"Go. And when you reach the shore, head to the Lu Residence for your donkey. Someone will hand it over."

Mo Liuqi paused, a little embarrassed, remembering the donkey. He scratched the back of his head.

He had come to assassinate, failed miserably, and now needed someone to take care of his smelly donkey… What a failed assassin he was.

Mo Liuqi departed, disappearing over the misty waters in a small boat.

"Young Master, you're just letting him go?" Nie Changqing asked, frowning.

"You're not afraid he might escape?" Jing Yue chimed in. "Shall I tail him?"

"No need," Lu Fan said calmly. "He wouldn't dare."

He extended his finger toward a distant chrysanthemum, and a petal drifted into his palm.

Then, his gaze shifted to the black cauldron and the pile of herbs.

Ni Yu had fetched a cauldron for alchemy… as expected of a true foodie.

Technically, alchemy required a dedicated furnace.

But… was there truly a rule saying one couldn't use a black cooking pot?

Well then, let's begin—let's refine a batch of Qi-Gathering Pills and see how it turns out.

…

In the eastern lake region, nestled at the peak of a towering mountain in the Western Prefecture, stood a small city—home to the famed Mohist Mechanical Sect.

Cascading waterfalls formed natural barriers, shielding this hidden fortress.

Built jointly by the Mohists and the Mechanists, this place served as both sanctuary and stronghold for wandering Mohist knights.

Amid the mountains, waterfalls flowed like celestial rivers.

Between two such torrents stretched a narrow corridor, its railings carved with floral motifs, the roof tiled in green, exuding a poetic elegance.

At its center stood a lone figure, a sword at his waist.

He was tall and straight-backed, clad in tight armor, his long hair loose, two locks draped before his brow.

His face, beneath the fringe, was as cold as stone—impervious to all emotion.

Footsteps echoed in the distance…