Chapter Forty: Since You Have Arrived, This Mountain Shall Open for You

The streets at dawn, shrouded in rain, were impossibly tranquil. The carriage rolled to a gentle halt. The horses exhaled warm breath from their nostrils, occasionally lifting their hooves to tap lightly on the stone pavement.

A young man stood beside the carriage, holding an umbrella. His handsome face wore a look of mild bewilderment.

Anle had not expected that Lady Hua herself would come to escort him to the Sixth Mountain.

“Get in the carriage. Why are you still standing there, lost in thought?” Lady Hua glanced at Anle, her tone cool.

Anle snapped out of his daze, offered Lady Hua a courteous bow, closed his umbrella, and moved to sit sideways on the driver's bench.

“That spot is for humble folk like me, sir. Please enter the carriage,” the old coachman, bundled in a rain cloak and wearing a bamboo hat, tugged at the reins and reminded him, his words sparse.

“Come inside,” Lady Hua’s voice drifted from within the carriage.

Anle, slightly embarrassed, apologized to the coachman, shook the water from his oil-paper umbrella in the gentle drizzle, lifted the curtain, and stepped inside.

In contrast to the chilly spring outside, the carriage was warmed by a brazier boiling water; the cold had nowhere to intrude. Today, Lady Hua was dressed simply—a plain white gown, like a woman on a leisurely outing, a scroll in her hand, candied fruits and hot tea set upon the table.

But Lady Hua was not alone in the carriage. Lin Chasewind and Lin Lightvoice were seated as well. Lin Lightvoice offered Anle a slight nod, while Lin Chasewind pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Greetings, madam,” Anle said, unperturbed by the situation. He bowed to Lady Hua, who nodded and gestured for him to sit.

The horses’ hooves struck the stone, like ancient bells and chimes, their steady rhythm accompanying the carriage.

After a moment of silence, Anle began to absorb the aura of time without ceremony, first turning to Lin Chasewind and Lin Lightvoice. Lin Chasewind possessed over a dozen strands of time’s aura, enough for Anle to draw upon several times, but Ninth Sister Lin Lightvoice had already been depleted; once Anle absorbed her three strands, there was nothing left.

She was the second cultivator to be drained by Anle—the first was the black constable, Huang Xian, and now Lin Lightvoice. Both were guides on his path of cultivation, and Anle felt grateful to them.

Afterward, he absorbed a single strand from Lady Hua as well.

Thus, Anle’s depleted aura was replenished to seven strands.

He did not rush to allocate them, for the peace within the carriage was soon disrupted.

“Master An, did you think only Lady Hua was in the carriage earlier, and so hesitated to enter?” Lin Chasewind, clad in azure attire with a fire poker at her waist, arched her brows mischievously.

Anle’s earlier bashful and innocent demeanor had amused Lin Chasewind.

Anle was not embarrassed by her words; his refined face broke into a smile as warm as spring.

“I hadn’t expected you would join us in journeying to the Sixth Mountain. Are you hoping, too, to be chosen by the master of the Sixth Mountain and become its guardian?”

Lin Chasewind, once she began, had no intention of stopping. “Still, your cultivation is rather lacking. Though the mountain lords choose guardians by affinity rather than skill, those with low cultivation have less chance.”

“No matter. It will be good to see the world,” Anle replied with a smile.

Lin Chasewind admired Anle’s carefree attitude, though perhaps his handsome appearance played a part; were he less attractive, Lin Chasewind would no doubt have dismissed him as insincere.

“If you’re aiming for the guardian position, then we’re rivals… Lady Hua, who do you think the Sixth Mountain master will favor more, me or Master An?”

Lin Chasewind turned to Lady Hua.

“This journey to the Sixth Mountain is nothing more than a spectacle for you. Give up hope,” Lady Hua replied, glancing up from her book with a cold, blunt retort.

Lin Chasewind was momentarily stunned, her cheeks puffing as she prepared to protest.

“Enough. Be quiet and nurture your spirit,” Lady Hua admonished, casting a sidelong glance at the still-chattering Lin Chasewind.

Lin Chasewind promptly fell silent, head bowed, somewhat sulky as she began to cultivate her mind.

Lin Lightvoice smiled quietly, sitting with composure, eyes closed to rest.

Lady Hua held a scholar’s tome, "On Virtue," and turned her gaze to Anle. After a moment’s consideration, she said, “The guardians of the sacred mountains are chosen by the mountain lords’ affinity. But do you know how to converse with the Sage?”

Anle was caught off guard by Lady Hua’s sudden change of topic. He shook his head honestly. “I only know that speaking with the Sage is extremely difficult. Even the most gifted are rarely able to do so.”

“Madam, have you ever conversed with the Sage?” Anle asked, curiosity piqued.

Lady Hua turned to gaze out the window. At some point, the carriage had left Lin’an Prefecture and sped along the official road, awakened by spring rain and lined with fresh grass and budding flowers.

“My teachings come from Gan Ye Temple. I have never met the Sage,” she murmured, then looked back at Anle. “To speak with the Sage, three requirements must be met—none can be omitted.”

“First, you must win the imperial examination held before the palace and become the top scholar. This is not difficult; throughout history, both men and women have gained the title, and it is not rare. Second, you must obtain a Small Sage Token from a mountain lord. That is your credential to meet and converse with the Sage.”

Anle was astonished; this was the first time he had heard such a secret.

“Are these the Sage’s own requirements?” Anle wondered.

Lady Hua shook her head and, after sipping her tea, replied, “The Sage never sets rules.”

“These are the rules set by the lord of the First Mountain.”

Lin Chasewind, now far from cultivating her spirit, was wide-eyed at hearing such secrets. “Lady Hua, you’ve only mentioned two requirements. What is the third?”

Lady Hua smiled. “The third requirement is unknown.”

The carriage fell silent.

Lady Hua did not know…

Then what was the point of all this?

“The third requirement is different for each seeker. It may be easy, or it may be extremely difficult.”

“When the first two conditions are fulfilled, upon ascending the Sacred Mountain, one faces the final trial.”

“Most fail at this last hurdle.”

Even Lady Hua, as she spoke, could not help but sigh.

Anle took a deep breath, his heart stirred. Countless cultivators had striven to converse with the Sage and enter the Sacred Mountain, yet so many extraordinary talents had failed.

He wondered if he would ever have the chance to meet the Sage, to speak with him.

He did not know—it was the lifelong goal of many cultivators; perhaps, it would become his own.

Still, Anle wondered why Lady Hua told him these things. What did they have to do with today’s opening of the Sixth Mountain and the selection of its guardian?

“We’ve arrived!”

Lost in thought, Anle was startled by Lin Chasewind’s excited cry. She leaned at the window, lifted the silk curtain, letting the fine spring rain and cool air sweep in.

Anle glanced through the window and caught a glimpse of a mountain rising from the earth, its sword-like ridges towering, as if a giant blade had been thrust into the world, standing majestic and unyielding.

He sensed, vaguely, that someone atop the mountain was gazing at the world below, their eyes piercing through the layers of peaks to fall upon him.

The green mountain wished to speak with the lofty one; countless steeds galloped in procession.

Yet the misty rain lingered, watching but never arriving.

Anle felt a sudden stir; the broken bamboo sword at his waist trembled, as if an invisible sword intent wished to soar skyward from within it.

Lady Hua smiled softly, her eyes shining.

Her slender hand lifted, and the restless sword intent of the bamboo sword subsided.

...

...

A pavilion, ethereal and perilously perched, where laughter echoed among a thousand peaks.

The Sixth Mountain.

Halfway up, amid mist and rain, stood a quiet pavilion.

A middle-aged man in blue stood motionless as spring wind and rain beads swept in from outside, stirring his robe like blades that sliced through the shrouding mist.

Beside him stood a pinewood sword case, his hand resting lightly upon it, as if he were a statue.

At the foot of the mountain, spiritual energy intertwined, blood energy billowed like smoke, and minds gathered and dispersed like fog. Numerous cultivators assembled beneath the slopes, already vying in myriad ways to gain entry to the Sixth Mountain and become its guardian.

Though the mountain had not yet opened, the cultivators had formed an unspoken accord. Amid invisible contests, some departed in disappointment while others climbed high, awaiting the opening of the mountain.

The man swept his divine sense across the crowd, then withdrew it—none among them were whom he wished to see.

His gaze lifted.

He sensed the sword intent arriving from afar; he who had hidden three thousand swords was naturally sensitive to such things. The young painter spoken of by Zhao Huangting had arrived.

Atop his sculpted face, the corners of his mouth lifted, stiff yet sincere.

He slapped the sword case, which opened an inch, releasing two rays of sword light.

The sword lights circled the man, then he tapped his fingers.

The sword lights shot forth like rainbows.

He raised his hands, palms together; the two rays intertwined. Then, as if drawing back a curtain, he pulled his hands apart.

In that instant, with the Sixth Mountain at its heart, a sword aura seemed to cleave through heaven and earth. The clouds above, the spring wind among men, and the sweeping rain—all parted slowly to the sides like a curtain.

“Since you have come, this mountain opens for you.”

“Open the mountain!”

As the words fell,

The parted clouds, winds, and rain revealed a patch of brightness. Sunlight poured down from the highest heavens, casting its brilliance upon the earth.

It spread out, as if laying a golden, dazzling avenue of light.

It invited the carriage progressing along the mountain road, leading it straight onto this golden avenue, directly to the Sixth Mountain.