I Will Leave Before Dawn

Chapter 8: Among the light

Days and nights melted into one another, moments became memories, and before they knew it, five years had passed. As the autumn breeze swept through the mountains, the trees were ablaze with fiery reds, oranges, and yellows. Leaves rustled and crunched underfoot, the sound echoing through the quiet forest.

It has been exactly five years since Lu Ye arrived at Qing Shan Sect. Five years melted in a blink of an eye ever since Lu Ye became Damu Lan’s disciple.

In those five years, Lu Ye had learned much from his master, becoming a skilled and powerful cultivator in his own right. No longer was he described as an amateur to the cultivation world as he was regarded to be Damu Lan’s only successor.

Out of all the disciples that used to study under Damu Lan, only Lu Ye was able to endure all the rigorous training that was given to him. Moreover, he was also comparable to most of his seniors in swordsmanship and physical combat. He also excels in managing his aura, making his presence almost impossible to notice, earning him the title “Dead Mist”.

In those five years, many changes can be seen in the disciples of the Qing Shan Sect. Gone were the days of their youthful countenances and childlike behavior, now replaced by an air of refinement and maturity.

Among them, Lu Ye stood out in a different way, for he had become even quieter than before. This change didn’t come as a surprise to many, given that his master was Damu Lan, after all.

Lu Ye had grown even more strikingly handsome than ever before. The contours of his eyes had grown sharper, surpassing even the piercing gaze of Zhang XiYi’s. His face bore an air of regal elegance, as if he was a prince from a distant realm. And though his hair remained as messy as ever, it was now elegantly tied up, cascading down his back until it reached his waist.

Like a reflection, the disciple resembles the master. Lu Ye’s dashing looks could easily rival those of Hua Ran and Zhang XiYi, yet he stood equal with Damu Lan—that was the opinion of many among the members of the Qing Shan Sect.

On the bustling training court where some disciples honed their skills under the watchful eyes of their masters, Jin An idled about aimlessly.

Then, he settled himself by Zhang XiYi’s side, both of them fixated on the sparring match between Lu Ye and another fellow disciple.

“Xi Yi, seems like Damu Lan’s disciple surpassed yours—” Jin An’s sentence was abruptly cut short as Zhang XiYi shot him a piercing glare.

“Oops,” Jin An muttered, his face hidden behind the layer of his hand fan.

“No matter how hard I try, I’ll always be second to him,” Zhang XiYi retorted with a hint of frustration. “Now, even our disciples have to be compared?”

“Well, at least you’re no longer in third place,” Jin An casually retorted.

A swift smack landed on Jin An’s head. “Do not speak of that devil here. How shameless,” scolded Zhang XiYi.

“How cruel…” Jin An muttered again, gently patting his own throbbing head.

Zhang XiYi’s gaze shifted to Hua Ran, who was keenly observing Lu Ye’s every move.

Over the past few years, Hua Ran and Lu Ye had sparred merely five times, with Hua Ran managing to win only twice, and even then, by a narrow margin.

Lu Ye’s sword movements were predictable to some extent, but his speed was simply astonishingly quick, and his aura was so faint that it made it impossible to see where his next strikes would land.

Zhang XiYi speculated that Hua Ran must have felt frustrated, yet he continued to strive his utmost effort in attempting to surpass Lu Ye.

“Instead of getting on my nerves, why don’t you—” Zhang XiYi paused and then cleared his throat.