Later that night...
The fire crackled softly between them, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the wooden hut.
Old Bao took a slow sip from his gourd, then asked, casually but with purpose, "So… which sect are you planning to join?"
Aladdin, seated cross-legged with his back straight and eyes steady, answered calmly, "None."
Old Bao raised an eyebrow. "None?"
Aladdin nodded. "I'm planning to travel across Xuanlan first. I want to understand this world, its people, its power struggles. Only then will I know where I truly belong."
Old Bao exhaled sharply through his nose. "You're already eighteen. This isn't the time to drift around like a rootless leaf. This is your prime, the exact moment to join a sect, sharpen your techniques, and grow stronger."
"I'm not drifting," Aladdin replied firmly. "I'll be roaming Xuanlan to grow stronger in my own way. I'll seek out geniuses, challenge them, learn from defeat, and rise through battle."
Old Bao studied him closely. "So you'd rather rely on duels and chance encounters than structured cultivation?"
Aladdin shook his head. "Not rely, embrace. The world itself will be my sect. I don't want to be confined by rules written for someone else's path. I want to carve my own."
Old Bao let out a quiet laugh. "Stubborn brat. You think I don't understand the craving for freedom? I was just like you once, burning with the same fire. But the world out there isn't just opportunity. It's danger, betrayal, and blood. If you're not careful, that fire of yours will be snuffed out before you even find your footing."
"I know that," Aladdin replied. "And I'm still going. You once told me that only those who brave storms and survive the darkness find true strength. That's what I'm choosing."
A long silence followed.
Finally, Old Bao sighed, his expression unreadable. "So you do listen after all."
"I listen to everything," Aladdin said with a faint smile. "Even when you pretend you're just nagging."
Old Bao scoffed. "Brat."
He stared into the fire for a moment, then muttered, "Fine. Go, then. Walk your path. But remember, once you leave this mountain, no one will care that you trained under Old Bao. Your fists will speak for you. Your willpower will be your only shield."
"I wouldn't want it any other way."
They sat in silence for a while, not awkward, just quiet.
Then Old Bao spoke again, his voice low but steady. "Since you're set on leaving tomorrow… just remember this Xuanlan is vast, and strength alone won't be enough. People plot. Power draws enemies. You'll need your wits more than your fists."
Aladdin nodded, calm yet resolute. "I understand. I'll be careful. And I'll return one day stronger than ever."
Old Bao grunted. "You'd better. If I hear you died out there before I reach Martial King, I'll chase you down in the afterlife and beat you back to life."
Aladdin laughed. "I'll try not to die, then."
"Good." Old Bao smirked faintly. "Now go get some sleep. You've got a long road ahead, boy."
Aladdin stood, gave a respectful bow, and said sincerely, "Thank you… for everything."
Old Bao didn't reply with words. He simply gave a firm nod.
As Aladdin walked to the wooden hut to rest one last time on the mountain, Old Bao remained by the fire, eyes still fixed on the flames—his thoughts on the boy who was no longer just a student, but a cultivator preparing to step into the real world.
---
The next morning, a pale mist blanketed Kunlun Mountain. The wind was quiet, almost reverent, as if it, too, sensed the weight of the moment.
Aladdin stood at the old trail that led down the mountain, his figure still, gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The road ahead was unknown, but what he left behind was even harder to part with.
Old Bao approached silently, hands tucked behind his back. Without ceremony, he handed something over.
"Take this," he said.
Aladdin looked down and accepted the item—an aged manual, thick and bound in weathered leather. He flipped it open and scanned the script inside. His eyes widened.
It was an Earth-rank saber technique manual. It contained four formidable saber moves, each a complete and deadly technique in its own right. But they were also crafted to interlink—fluid transitions that allowed a saber cultivator to shift from one strike to the next without losing momentum. Each move escalated in pressure and lethality, designed for battlefield adaptability rather than flashy display. This was a technique born from real combat experience—brutal, efficient, and elegant in execution.
Aladdin gripped the manual tightly.
This man had saved him. When he was lost and disoriented in a foreign land, Old Bao had found him, half-dead on the edge of Kunlun. He could have walked away—most would have—but instead, he took him in. He trained him, forged his foundations, and honed his resolve. Old Bao didn't just teach him to survive—he taught him to rise.
Now, he was giving him this. A final gift.
Aladdin looked up, emotion rising in his chest. He didn't speak thanks again—he had already said it the night before—but his eyes held it, clear and burning.
"I'll come back stronger," he said quietly.
Old Bao didn't respond with words. He just waved a hand and turned his back to the trail.
That was the end of it.
Aladdin bowed deeply, then turned and began his descent. With every step, the mist swallowed him a little more, until only a fading silhouette remained.
And then, nothing but wind.
Old Bao stood there a while longer, gazing into the fog.
"You better survive out there, brat," he muttered under his breath. "Because if you don't come back stronger, I'll hunt you down myself."
Then he, too, turned and walked away.
---
As Aladdin began his descent down Kunlun Mountain, the wind whispered softly through the trees, carrying with it the weight of parting.
This is not farewell.
He saved my life, shaped my path, and invested his strength in my growth. I owe him more than words can express.
I will return—not as the boy he rescued, but as the man worthy of his faith.
The next time we meet, I'll make sure he has every reason to be proud.
---