Chapter Thirteen: Elder Green Mountain

Lin Ze opened the envelope and took out the land deed, channeling his spiritual energy into it. In an instant, the thin sheet of paper shone with a sudden brilliance, transforming within a breath into a thumb-sized jade seal, which slowly descended into his palm.

His azure robe fluttered gently as the Daoist watched in silence.

The faces of the two young Daoist attendants changed dramatically. In a fluster, they lifted their robes and knelt on one knee, exclaiming in unison, “Disciple welcomes Elder Qingshan’s return to the sect!”

A letter could be forged, but not the seal. Bestowed personally by the sect leader, passed down for a thousand years, only the master of the lineage could hold it.

But why would the Qingshan seal appear in the hands of this middle-aged Daoist before them?

The two attendants could not comprehend it, inwardly lamenting their misfortune. If he was truly an outer sect elder, why hadn’t he revealed his identity sooner? Who would have dared to stop him then? Why pretend to be a wandering cultivator and cause such trouble?

“Elder?”

Lin Ze withdrew the seal, puzzled. He had thought it was merely the deed to Qingshan, not something tied to seniority within the sect.

At that moment, the two women recovered from their shock, hastily saluted with swords in hand, performing the disciple’s greeting. “Greetings, Elder Qingshan.”

“So Senior Lin is actually...”

Bowing, Zhao Ling couldn’t help but cast a sidelong glare at Su Bailu. The girl had hidden it well—even she had been kept in the dark.

Su Bailu’s feelings were equally complicated. She had followed him for over a decade, always believing her master to be a reclusive, free-spirited cultivator. Never had she suspected he bore such a hidden identity.

It was simply absurd.

Linking together the recent events, she even began to wonder if her master’s cultivation in the Qi Refining stage had been a façade all along. Otherwise, how could it be so coincidental that just as Senior Sister Zhao was about to act, her master immediately revealed Foundation Establishment cultivation?

Did he think breaking through was as easy as drinking water?

Of all present, only Xiao Bao’s expression remained unchanged. To him, Master was Master—whether the village elder or a sect elder, it made no difference.

Relief and joy appeared in his eyes when he realized he wouldn’t have to be separated from his master.

“Let’s go,” Lin Ze said, striding past the two attendants and stepping through the bronze gates.

It was as if he had entered a breathtaking painting. The world opened up—gentle breezes caressed his face, filling him with a sense of serenity and delight.

He took a deep breath, noticing out of the corner of his eye that one of the attendants had already run off in another direction, much like a messenger bearing important news.

“How diligent,” Lin Ze remarked with a shake of his head. Even the gatekeepers were aware of Qingshan’s unusual situation. If he hadn’t possessed the Immortal Cultivation Simulator, the wisest choice would have been to leave the Dongyue Sect immediately.

With the attendant’s departure, disciples of the sect gradually began to gather.

They stood atop cliffs, beneath towering trees, by clear brooks, all casting curious glances at the group.

“Isn’t that Senior Sister Zhao Ling from Qingfeng Mountain?”

“And Junior Sister Bailu.”

“Look at that little guy—he seems so clueless.”

Many disciples pointed and whispered, but their attention finally settled on the middle-aged Daoist at the head. His azure robe was plain, his figure thin, temples just beginning to gray, and he exuded an aura of quiet transcendence.

“So that’s the new Elder of Qingshan?”

“Brother Zhao, you have the highest cultivation among us—can you see what level this elder is at?” someone called out.

By the cliff’s edge, a young man in white, handsome in appearance, seemed not to hear the inquiry behind him. He stared fixedly at Lin Ze below, his fists clenched unconsciously.

Zhao Jinian took a deep breath, a chill flickering in his eyes. “Why has Master come to the sect?”

Why couldn’t he quietly enjoy his twilight years in the village? Why step foot into the Dongyue Mountains and even become Qingshan’s elder?

He had sharp eyes and immediately discerned that Lin Ze, like himself, was only at the early stage of Foundation Establishment—and not even as stable as he was.

“With such meager cultivation, he dares lay claim to Qingshan?” Zhao Jinian relaxed his fists, his expression shifting uncertainly. He wished to persuade Lin Ze to return to the village, yet was unwilling to reveal their connection to the others, leaving him in a dilemma.

Sensing his gaze, Su Bailu lifted her head calmly.

Their eyes met across the distance.

After a moment, Su Bailu shook her head in disappointment. In her junior brother’s eyes, she saw worry, confusion, even anger—but not respect for their master.

Since that was the case, there was no need to bring up their master.

Without a sideways glance, Lin Ze followed the attendant westward. The many stares made him realize that his initial assessment had been off.

Qingshan was by no means an inconspicuous presence within the Dongyue Sect, to be quietly developed under his guidance. Quite the contrary—it seemed that many eyes were fixed on this inheritance-lost mountain.

The peaks of Dongyue stretched endlessly. As familiar landscapes came into view, the fragments of memory lingering in Lin Ze’s mind slowly resurfaced.

This vast sect was divided into outer and inner branches.

Much like elite training programs in his past life, the outer sect was its own system, each peak representing a different master’s lineage—akin to a university’s array of specialized electives, each with its own cultivation methods.

Every day, different peaks would send stewards to lecture the new disciples, a grand amalgam of teachings. The disciples would then choose the method best suited to them, joining that lineage and specializing in a particular path of cultivation.

Disciple, steward, elder.

The path to advancement was straightforward—until elder, forming a complete outer sect.

The inner sect was separate, drawing only the very best from the outer sect to form the core strength of the entire order.

“And the Qingshan I am about to inherit—is it among those abandoned disciplines, proven unworkable?” Lin Ze frowned slightly.

If Dongyue Sect were a school, the students choosing their specialties, then rapid advancement in cultivation would be akin to landing a job with great promotion prospects; strong combat ability at the same level would mean a lucrative career; low-risk cultivation would translate to a secure, stable job.

Each lineage had its own advantages.

Qingshan, however, was the kind of specialty that left students jobless—where even the last professor had starved to death.

A bleak future indeed.

And yet Qingshan was still a coveted place of cultivation. Its founder must have at least reached the Golden Core stage to secure this mountain from the sect.

Other “professors” were always eyeing his building, ready to snatch it at any time.

Gradually, Lin Ze came to understand his predicament. He sighed, but his gaze remained serene.

With the Immortal Cultivation Simulator, he could see firsthand the difficulties others encountered when practicing their techniques, and thus assess their efficacy. In training disciples, he need not lose to any elder.

The problem was—how could he convince the disciples of this?

Other lineages attracted students by holding open lectures, but Lin Ze had little insight into cultivation, barely understanding it himself. Even if he recruited disciples, they would need to bring their own techniques, or else he’d be limited to his meager three skill cards.

There was also the difference in cultivation levels.

Every other elder was at least at the peak of Foundation Establishment. With his early-stage Foundation Establishment, Lin Ze would be lucky to serve as a steward in another lineage—if he had mastered two techniques.

As for the inner sect, he wasn’t even qualified to enter as a disciple. They cared nothing for cultivation level but set exceedingly strict requirements for talent and comprehension—one needed something truly outstanding. For instance, Su Bailu had comprehended Frost Sword Intent within the simulator, earning her exceptional admission to the inner sect.

Even if Lin Ze himself demonstrated Frost Sword Intent, the effect would be far inferior.

After all, he was already sixty, and sword intent was only remarkable if comprehended at the Qi Refining stage. What the inner sect prized was her potential to further master sword energy, even sword force. For Foundation Establishment cultivators, sword intent derived from a low-grade technique barely counted as a trump card, not even fit for the bottom of the chest.

How could an elder of such modest strength win the disciples’ respect?