Tales Of The Exiled Immortal

CHAPTER 8

Hearing the voice, Rain stopped in his tracks and turned, coming face to face with a figure about the same age. Behind him were two other chubby fools, clearly his lackeys. His gaze dropped to their robes and lingered on the emblem marked boldly on their chest.

Wasn’t that the crest of the Pure Yang Sect? The rivals of the Glory Dome Sect?

Rain narrowed his eyes.

The rivalry between both sects was no secret. One specialized in dual cultivation. The other... Pure Yang was an all-male sect that trained under the Extreme Yang Technique, which turned its disciples into mindless, overbearing dogs.

Their attacks were brutal and their words worse.

To them, dual cultivation was a shortcut. Trash. Anyone who practiced it deserved no respect.

Rain folded his arms, eyes cool. “What do you want?”

“Hand over that sack of herbs and we might let you leave in one piece. You trash from a pig sect,” one of the fat boys sneered, stepping forward and reaching like he owned the world.

From the distance, Chen’s hand slid to his sword. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes sharpened. These three were stronger, Foundation Establishment. The leader had already stepped into Spirit Body Realm. Rain couldn’t win...not yet.

But they hadn’t attacked him but the moment they did, they’d die where they stood.

“Give you my sack of herbs?” Rain said, voice dry and laced with mockery. He tilted his head.

“I didn’t know pig brains could form full sentences now.”

He smirked, unfazed. “Why don’t you go buy it yourself?”

“That’s none of your business! Hand it over now!” the lackey snapped, storming toward him again and lunging for the bag.

Rain’s expression didn’t even shift. He stepped back casually, watching the idiot fall flat on his face like a wet sack of potatoes.

The thud was glorious.

“How dare you!” the pig exploded, scrambling up and roaring, a fist already flying toward Rain’s face.

“Thomas, stop,” the leader finally said, voice low.

The punch halted and the leader turned his attention to Rain, who stared back with lazy amusement.

“You’ve got some skills, huh?” he muttered.

Chen, still watching, allowed himself a brief smile. The grab had been fast and heavy but Rain had handled it like it was nothing.

“I don’t have time for clowns,” Rain cut in coldly. “Get out of my way. I’ve got better things to do.”

He turned without another word.

“Wait,” the leader called.

Rain paused.

“How about you sell that sack to me?” he asked, voice tense, his eyes twitching like something had spooked him.

“No,” Rain said flatly.

“I’ll pay double.”

“I don’t give a damn if you offer me your sect leader’s corpse. My things are not for sale.”

Without sparing them a second glance, he walked off. His figure vanished into the distance like they didn’t even exist.

“Why the hell did you let him leave?” one of the lackeys barked, confused.

The leader snorted. “If you want your bones crushed into powder, go stop him.”

The lackey flinched and said nothing, they stood there in silence before turning and leaving.

“What was that?” one of the lackeys asked as they moved.

“I don’t know who that kid is, but someone strong is watching his back.”

His voice dropped. “I was just about to tell Thomas to go harder when a voice transmission entered my head. Cold and dangerous. Said if even a strand of hair on that boy’s body was touched, we’d never make it out of this market.”

He wiped the sweat running down his cheek.

“Dude isn’t simple.”

“But wouldn’t this affect...”

“Forget it. We’ll get the herbs elsewhere. Worst case, we enter the Black Forest, hunt beasts and trade their cores. I’m not dying today.”

He waved, and the group vanished into the crowd.

Rain stopped just a few steps from the sect gate, the sky above was beginning to dim, casting golden shadows across the courtyard stones, but he didn’t move forward. Instead, he turned slightly to the left, toward the dense ridge of trees hugging the mountain wall.

Then, slowly and with deliberate respect, he bowed low.

“Thank you, Uncle Chen.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. No glance back or hesitation.

He straightened and continued walking toward the gate, disappearing past the entrance without another word.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew down to his bones that if Chen hadn’t been shadowing him, he’d have been on the ground bleeding, maybe even dead. Those Pure Yang bastards weren’t bluffing. And he wasn’t strong enough yet to fight them head-on.

Not now, not with this fragile, half-broken body.

Jackson’s defeat had been a fluke, an arrogant opponent and a lucky move. Rain had no illusions about it. He wasn’t powerful yet. He wasn’t respected or feared but one day, he would be.

---

From the trees, Chen stared unmoving.

His breath caught as Rain bowed in his direction.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

He had suppressed every ounce of his aura, masked his presence with the shadow veil technique, a high-level art that even peak Core Formation cultivators couldn’t detect. And Rain had sensed him… again.

Twice now.

With no spiritual tools, no divine sense, just instinct and awareness.

Chen’s grip on his cloak tightened, thoughts racing.

The Young Master had always been considered weak. Fragile and a disappointment.

But this? This wasn't a weakness.

This was an awakening and if this rate of growth continued… if that awareness sharpened further… then maybe... maybe there was hope.

Hope of returning to the Spirit Realm.

Hope of reclaiming his fallen name.

He exhaled slowly, suppressing the rising flicker of emotion in his chest. He couldn’t afford to get carried away. Not yet.

Without another sound, Chen vanished from the shadows like he was never there, only a ripple in the wind remained.

He had to inform the Patriarch and this time, it was good news.