While the great sect event was taking place, there was actually a very interesting scene happening in a certain private courtyard in Five Elements City, the city hosting the sect’s external competitions.

Hui Lang, the old, formerly-toothless man, now a core disciple of the Infinite Dao Sect, was calmly sitting at a table, moving a chess piece with a distant gaze.

His long white beard and hair, aged appearance, and beautiful white robes with golden patterns made him look far more like an immortal elder than a disciple.

Hui Lang lifted his gaze from the piece and looked at his opponent with a small smile.

Across the table sat a man who looked even older than the current Hui Lang, wearing elegant-looking robes that were relatively ordinary in quality.

“Your turn, old friend,” he said softly.

“…”

But the man didn’t answer him, his eyes unfocused and distant.

“Old friend?” Hui Lang called again, a little louder, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“…”

A young man beside the old man sighed helplessly, stepped forward, and gently shook the elder’s shoulder.

“GRANDPA!!” he suddenly shouted, and continued yelling: “SENIOR HUI IS TALKING TO YOU!!”

“Huh?!” The old man moved his cloudy eyes. “Which singer Hui?” he asked, confused.

When he opened his mouth, his lack of teeth was revealed.

“It’s not singer, it’s senior! Senior Hui! Grandpa, it’s your turn to play!” the young man kept shouting shrilly, making Hui Lang twitch.

“I’m not the singer Hui you’re talking about,” the old man shook his head. “But I did know a guy who thought very highly of himself when I was young—a good friend of mine. His name was… what was it again?” He scratched his cheek, thinking.

“It’s Senior Hui Lang! He’s right in front of you, Grandpa!” the young man insisted, looking utterly defeated.

“Yes, that’s right. Hui Kang! Good man, and he really was standing in front of me. Must’ve been about twenty years since he died, poor thing. They say he didn’t accept his old age, invited twenty courtesans into his courtyard and died on the belly of the first one, thirty seconds later. That’s why I always say we must accept when we’re getting old. Poor old Bang,” the old man spoke slowly, sighing, his unfocused eyes drifting as his words made less and less sense.

“Grandpa!” The young man looked embarrassed, his face red as he glanced at poor Hui Lang in front of them, whose mouth twitched more and more, shattering the immortal aura he had a moment earlier. “Senior Hui isn’t dead…” the youth began explaining frantically, sweating nervously.

Hui Lang was a powerful cultivator now, and offending him was unthinkable.

“Hui Bang?” Another old man in the courtyard, with several youths by his side, seemed to have overheard the conversation. “You knew Hui Bang? The one who died with a fish bone stuck in his throat?” he asked, puzzled.

“Huh? Did you say something?” another old man beside him asked.

“I didn’t,” yet another replied.

Soon, the courtyard — full of senile elders — became a cacophony of voices, each one spouting more nonsense than the previous, making black lines appear on Hui Bang’s… err, Hui Lang’s forehead.

By the end, his name was being pronounced as Cong Bong, and he had died in more than a hundred different ridiculous ways according to those old men.

Those elderly men weren’t ordinary old folks… well, actually they were, but they were ordinary old folks who had been Hui Lang’s friends in his youth.

Of course, all of them were a few years younger than Hui Lang, or they would’ve already died, since he himself had already passed a hundred — the usual age limit for a Qi Refinement cultivator.

But their talent had been even worse than his, and by the time they reached such an advanced age with such low cultivation, their mental clarity had deteriorated just like that of ordinary mortals of that age.

As for the youths around them, taking care of the elders — those were their family members, children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren who had brought their grandfathers and grandmothers to meet this old friend of their ancestors, whom they heard had done very well for himself.

And, of course, to try and increase their chances of entering the Infinite Dao Sect by relying on connections.

Naturally, Hui Lang wasn’t ignorant of those ulterior motives. Still, he was happy they had brought them.

Among his companions, he was actually the only one who never abandoned cultivation and never started a family.

Because of that, he had deep nostalgia for those old friends who were still in this world and who remembered him from before all this. He hoped some of them could live longer and perhaps even enter the sect, live many more years, and accompany him for a long stretch on the immortal path.

But when he decided to chat and reminisce, he ended up facing a scene that looked more like a retirement home than a reunion of old friends.

His former best friend, Deng Zhongliang — who luckily was still alive, being only three years younger and currently the one “playing” chess with him — looked even more senile than he remembered.

In fact, before he entered the sect, two years ago, he had met this old man, who wasn’t too bad back then, and they even saw each other fairly often. But now here he was, saying things like ‘Hui Bang died twenty years ago,’ which almost made Hui Lang want to slap him just to see if it would make his brain work again.

Sighing helplessly, hearing more and more absurdities come out of his friends’ mouths — even secrets that should never have been spoken and made his old face blush — he gritted his teeth and suddenly stood up, catching the attention of all the young people present.

“Stay here. And stop these guys from spouting nonsense at this old man,” he ordered coldly, his authority returning, and then he simply vanished from their sight like a phantom.

The hearts of everyone present pounded wildly when they saw it.

Senior Hui Lang, who could barely walk in the past, now had an authority and a power that made their hearts tremble in fear.

They couldn’t even see how he moved or where he went.

Thus, they could only obey fearfully, stopping their elders from continuing to speak nonsense while they waited, uncertain and apprehensive about what Senior Hui would do.

Unbeknownst to them, Hui Lang flew at high speed toward the sect and soon headed to a discreet core disciple cave mansion on the upper part of the mountain.

Landing in front of the door, he transmitted his voice inside.

[“Cang Song, I’m here.”]

On the way, Hui Lang had already sent a message directly to him through his private disciple WebToken, asking where he was and saying he was on his way. That was why he greeted him so abruptly.

As soon as his words fell, the cave door suddenly opened — but no one was behind it.

Pursing his lips, he waited, already aware of that man’s peculiarities, and soon the tip of a head full of white hair cautiously peeked out from the left corner of the door.

That head stayed there for a moment, and when nothing happened, a voice suddenly came from behind Hui Lang, making him turn toward it.

“What does senior brother need from me today?” Cang Song, who had been hiding behind a tree, asked as he revealed himself, wearing a disarming and polite smile.

Shocked, Hui Lang quickly looked back, but the cave door was already closing at that moment.

“How did you…” he began to ask in confusion. One moment he was there, and the next he was behind him — which only confused him further.

Could Cang Song be that fast?

Unfortunately, he was interrupted before he could finish asking.

“Ahem! Don’t worry about that.” Cang Song coughed into his fist and quickly changed the subject. “What does Brother Hui need?”

He couldn’t say it was just a wig and a few illusion formations he had set up to pretend he was there, while he himself was hiding in one of the underground tunnels he had dug, right?

Hui Lang pursed his lips and felt that this guy’s quirks left him just as helpless as the conversation he had with his currently senile old friends.

Sighing, he let the matter go and focused on the reason he had come.

“Well, I need twenty Founder-Tier marrow cleansing pills. Can you get them?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at old Cang, who simply nodded.

“I already have them prepared. The sect requested several batches of that pill from our pavilion, probably aiming at the next recruitment, which should involve many old folks who will need them. So I ended up making a few extra batches,” he explained to Hui Lang, who looked surprised when he said he already had them. “But how much will you pay for them?” Cang Song asked.

“Don’t worry, the price will be fair. I can trade two Core-Tier defensive talismans, which are your favorites,” he offered, raising an eyebrow at him with a smile.

Of course, he could spend his contribution points buying such pills from the sect. But being a core disciple of the Talisman Pavilion, he preferred doing this kind of trade directly with Cang Song, saving his points.

And unlike the others, being one of his closest associates, Hui Lang knew that this cowardly man was probably the sect’s best disciple in alchemy — just pretending to be weak to avoid attention — though he knew the man would never admit it.

When Cang Song heard his offer, he rolled his eyes at old Hui’s absurd business proposition.

“Founder-Tier marrow cleansing pills are no different from regular Core-Tier pills, whether in materials or difficulty, and pills are more valuable than your broken talismans. If you want twenty, it’ll be one hundred of your best defensive talismans,” he declared firmly.

Hui Lang only laughed lightly. He already knew that; he just wanted to provoke him.

“Okay, here it is.”

The trade was quickly completed, and Hui Lang immediately returned to the courtyard where the old men waited, fearing that any of them might pass away in the next moment if he delayed.

As soon as he arrived, he received bows from the juniors waiting with their ancestors.

“Okay, no need for that. Just give these to these damned old men. This cost me a lot of money, so they better not dare speak nonsense about me again,” he huffed, waving his hand and shooting the pills toward the juniors of these old friends.

Soon, despite their doubts about what that pill was, they didn’t dare disobey and had their ancestors take them.

In moments, black, putrid sludge began to ooze from the old men’s bodies, filling the air with a stench so foul it made eyes water and terrified the juniors.

But despite the ugly and terrifying appearance of what was happening, the cloudy eyes of those old men grew brighter the more filth poured out.

And then, under the wide-eyed and incredulous stares of their juniors, the old men suddenly leapt from their seats — no different from strong young men — and eagerly ran toward Hui Lang, bowing deeply with ease, using waists that had barely been able to bend for years.

They shouted excitedly and gratefully, various expressions of thanks that essentially boiled down to one thing:

“Brother Lang! It has been so long! Thank you for helping us with these impurities that tormented us!”

It had been a long time since they had felt their thoughts clear and normal, or their bodies healthy and strong. Now, with such mental clarity, their memories were lucid, and they knew who was responsible — their former senior brother, whom they admired and who now seemed more extraordinary than ever.

“Save your thanks for later, you senile old fools. You stink,” Hui Lang said with a hearty laugh. His black eyes shone with joy as he watched his old friends return to who they’d always been.

He then pointed with his index and middle fingers shaped like a sword toward a nearby well. With a flick of his hand, a column of water shot upward, split in midair, and came down evenly over the filthy, stinking old men, washing them clean.

Just like that, with the extraordinary power and ability the sect had given him, Hui Lang truly reunited with his old friends once again, joking and telling stories as they all waited for the recruitment to begin.

And soon, in their anxious anticipation, that day was closer than ever.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep