Chapter 80: The Savior

Patriarch Zhang nodded, his seriousness tinged with hesitation and confusion as he asked, “Is this sword the Xuan Tian Sword? Its size and shape seem familiar, but…”

Li Sibai nodded. “It is.”

Though Patriarch Zhang had already guessed, hearing Li Sibai confirm it himself still surprised him. His gaze swept over the elders, who wore complex expressions, their eyes reflecting an unusual light.

Patriarch Zhang continued, “Young hero Li, are you a disciple of the Xuan Tian Sword Sect?”

Li Sibai replied in the affirmative, though his heart was filled with puzzlement. This patriarch didn’t seem like a fortune-teller, so how had he guessed so accurately?

Before he could dwell on it further, Patriarch Zhang and the elders exchanged glances and all rose to their feet.

They clasped their hands in salute and bowed to Li Sibai.

Startled, Li Sibai wondered what was happening. Why were these elders behaving so unusually? Sensing something out of the ordinary, he hurried forward, supporting Patriarch Zhang. “Patriarch Zhang, please, you mustn’t. If there’s anything you wish to discuss, just tell me. If it’s within my ability, I will do my utmost.”

Patriarch Zhang straightened at his words, his eyes shining with a faint, star-like brilliance as he stared intently at Li Sibai, making him even more uneasy.

Li Sibai was at a loss. He truly didn’t know what was going on. Being scrutinized by elders like this was rather unnerving. He couldn’t force them, nor could he soften himself—he was not a gentle person. He could only wait for the elders to compose themselves, resulting in a silent, tense standoff.

After a brief moment, Patriarch Zhang finally spoke. “Young hero Li, to be honest, we have been waiting for you for a very long time…”

“For me?” Li Sibai was bewildered. This was their first meeting; he didn’t know them at all. How could they have waited for him?

Seeing his confusion, Patriarch Zhang explained, “Please sit, young hero Li. Allow me to explain.”

The matter originated from an old prophecy, faithfully upheld and passed down by their ancestors. For this, they had waited…

Long ago, all the villagers lived in a settlement in the northernmost part of the continent, known as Xuanwu Village.

The people there were simple and isolated from the world, skilled in basic magic, and survived by hunting the beasts surrounding their village.

Life had been peaceful for years, until one day, a villager encountered a monster while hunting. After repeated attacks, Patriarch Zhang and the elders decided to gather the strongest among them to hunt the beast.

Though the monster was formidable, their numbers and careful planning prevailed. After many hardships, they subdued it, and peace returned.

But it was short-lived. The monster, thought dead, returned stronger than ever, bringing a horde of its kin.

The villagers were no match. As most faced death, a golden light suddenly enveloped Xuanwu Village from the heavens—a miracle. Before anyone could comprehend it, they were struck by dizziness and all lost consciousness.

When they awoke, they found themselves in Stream Bamboo Village. The experience felt like a dream, and upon sharing their memories, everyone had dreamt the same thing.

In the dream, a celestial voice told them that their descendants would encounter a fateful opportunity. They were to settle in this new land, escaping disaster, and await the arrival of a disciple from the Xuan Tian Sword Sect wielding the Xuan Tian Sword, who would rescue them. They were also warned that the bamboo forest nearby concealed hidden dangers and should not be entered lightly.

The then-patriarch immediately counted their numbers, discovering over half had perished, and fewer than a hundred remained in Stream Bamboo Village. All believed they had survived thanks to a great benefactor and clung to the prophecy, steadfast through generations. Patriarch Zhang was now the third generation since, nearly sixty years had passed, and the previous patriarch had long passed, but the ancestral command remained.

During this time, some had ventured into the bamboo forest, never to return. The remaining experts were sent to search, but also vanished without a trace, so they abandoned the effort.

As the bamboo forest grew ever larger, their living space dwindled. Other than sending people to harvest bamboo from its edge each day, they had no better solution, and could only patiently await the legendary disciple.

And so, sixty years passed.

No outsiders came, until today, when a villager found Li Sibai unconscious by the river, his wounds infected. He was swiftly rescued and brought to Elder Yuan.

Elder Yuan was the village healer, and his disciple, Miss Zilin, had inherited his medical knowledge—so bringing Li Sibai here was ideal.

After treating Li Sibai, Elder Yuan noticed his sword and was overjoyed, seeing it matched the prophecy. He quickly informed Patriarch Zhang. The patriarch was so excited upon hearing the news that he rushed over. Everyone speculated but didn’t dare assume, deciding to wait until Li Sibai awoke to question him.

Hearing Patriarch Zhang’s story, Li Sibai learned the truth, yet his face was still full of confusion. He had always considered himself ordinary, never encountered such a bizarre event.

A disciple of the Xuan Tian Sword Sect, carrying the Xuan Tian Sword, arriving here?

Who had bestowed this dream upon them? It seemed as though it had all been preordained.

Why had he been chosen? Or was it meant for someone else?

If he had been chosen all along, then his obtaining the Xuan Tian Sword and accidentally entering the “Pill Storage Bottle”—was everything predetermined?

The progression of events felt far from simple. He sensed invisible chains quietly binding him, not knowing whether for good or ill, and his heart grew increasingly restless and uneasy.

Li Sibai pondered endlessly but found no answers. He could only comfort himself, resolving to ask the Old Tree Spirit when he returned.

Thinking of the Old Tree Spirit reminded him of Caiyao, and he wondered how Le Chen’s search was going. Without news of Caiyao, even though these people had saved him, he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Patriarch Zhang finished his tale and, seeing Li Sibai’s lack of enthusiasm and even skepticism, felt somewhat disappointed. Yet considering Li Sibai’s youth and inexperience, and how incredible all this sounded, he realized he himself might not believe it were the roles reversed.

After some hesitation, Li Sibai asked, “The prophecy said I would rescue you, but how am I to do so? Is there any further information?”

Patriarch Zhang hesitated, then replied, “There is, young hero Li. The ancestral command states that if you arrive, we must impart to you our clan’s formation. Only when you have mastered this formation can you lead us out and return home.”

“Formation?” Li Sibai frowned, surprised that such a small village possessed one.

He had read about formations in the library—those for attack, defense, speed, and enhancing spells—but only simple theoretical knowledge. To truly learn them required an inner sect teacher, and formations usually required many participants.

Looking around, he saw only himself. Was he to clone himself? Or would the elders join him in forming the array?

He couldn’t fathom it, but felt it was a good opportunity to learn. So, he solemnly clasped his hands and said, “Then please, Patriarch, instruct me.”