Chapter Fifteen: Only After Twenty Years Do You Truly Know Me

The pace of economic development in the Immortal Village was plain to see: the smallholder economy was slowly giving way to a capitalist one. The main road in the village had been expanded to allow two carriages to pass side by side; the dilapidated thatched huts had all been replaced with sturdy brick houses. Some of the original dwellings had been converted into inns, others into shops.

The temple halfway up the mountain grew larger and larger. There had even been thoughts of expanding it onto the mountain that had been leveled flat, but as soon as anyone stepped into the thick clouds, they lost their way. No matter how sincerely you prayed or how hard you tried to find a path, you could only retreat the way you came. In the end, the expansion took place at the foot of the mountain. By tradition, temples ought to crown the mountaintop, yet this unconventional temple became ever more popular, its incense smoke rising thickly. It was even given a melodious name: the Temple of the Immortal Xie.

It wasn’t as if the village had never faced peril, but there happened to be a village chief named Xue Xiaoyu. The legend grew ever more fantastic, until it was simply said that every chief of the Immortal Village inherited the divine powers of the Immortal Xie. As for the Immortal Xie, the stories attributed all manner of blessings to him—overseeing births, promotions, wealth, and peace.

The Immortal Village boasted three great sights. The first was the stone stele at the village entrance, rumored to have flown down from the heavens to subdue evil souls, and this too spawned several legends. The second was the Xie family residence, where the Immortal Xie had lived before ascending; after becoming immortal, he had gone to cultivate on Xie Mountain and, as the tales went, taken his family along to share in his immortality. Xue Xiaoyu could only give a cold laugh at that; in truth, it was Li Qing who had taken Xie Huanling to roam the world doing good deeds. Now, the residence was always wreathed in curling incense. The third sight was the Temple of Immortal Xie, known as the Immortal’s drawing room, where he would sometimes listen to the prayers of his devotees. More and more supplicants arrived, coming from ever more distant places.

Thus it was that twenty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“Master, we’re cultivators just like everyone else—why are we living so poorly?” Yufu took a deep whiff of the drifting aroma of meat, then looked down at the plain steamed bun in his hand.

His master, sitting beside him, smiled gently. “Cultivation is about refining both magic and the heart. What’s a little craving for food?” With that, he took a small bite of his own bun, affecting the demeanor of a sage, though he secretly swallowed his saliva.

Yufu wasn’t buying it. At eleven or twelve years old, he was at the age when such cravings were strongest. Facing the master who had raised him, he mercilessly exposed him: “Master, I heard you swallow just now.”

“Nonsense. My mouth’s just dry,” the master retorted, casting a stern glance at his impudent disciple.

The two of them, one grown and one child, squatted not far from the Temple of Immortal Xie, each with a steamed bun. The elder looked about forty, dressed in a threadbare robe.

Seeing the worried look on his disciple’s face, the master felt a twinge of shame and said, “Little Fu, remember, we are cultivators. Seeking the Way is what matters. Next year, when the sect takes in some children of the wealthy, you’ll have good food every day. Candied hawthorn, lotus-leaf chicken, crystal pork knuckles…”

Yufu swallowed unconsciously, but then reality set in and he muttered, “We’re so close to the Celestial Palace—anyone with sense goes to cultivate there. Who would come to Lishan?”

“That’s why I’m here,” the master replied. “Didn’t the sect leader say that if we could invite this great deity, Lishan would soon stand atop the world?”

“Everyone knows the old master’s divinations have never worked… Only you still believe it. We’ve traveled all this way for nothing…” Yufu grumbled. “If you ask me, we should just move elsewhere. Reestablish Lishan. With your skills, master, how could we fail to attract disciples? Why keep bowing and scraping for others’ favor?”

“Hey, not bad—those last two phrases were well-chosen. How long did you think those up?” He patted Yufu on the head. “Without Lishan, would Lishan still be Lishan? It’s been passed down for thousands of years.”

Yufu pouted. “Other sects have been around for thousands of years too, but the Celestial Palace only grows more famous. As for us, people think we’re just their appendage…”

“By my reckoning, that master should be coming out soon,” the master said, changing the subject.

“Even if he does, he might not go with you. You can’t even provide a bite of meat…” Yufu muttered.

The master looked up at the sky and pretended not to hear.

…

The clouds that had enveloped the mountain for twenty years began to tremble.

A figure slowly emerged—a strikingly handsome young man, little more than twenty, with a gentle smile. He stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing down as though at the Temple of Immortal Xie, or perhaps at the Immortal Village itself.

In the blink of an eye, twenty years had passed. This youth was Wu Yue. Twenty years—a long time by any measure, but for Wu Yue, it was a time of transformation, a metamorphosis from cocoon to butterfly.

If once Wu Yue had merely been a mortal suddenly granted the powers of a deity, now he possessed the heart and wisdom to wield such strength.

Consider cultivation: the first realm is Qi Condensation. To condense Qi through nine steps, opening all the meridians, was to reach the Meridian-Passing stage. If, however, one condensed Qi to form a sea of energy in the dantian, laying the foundation for the Dao, that was Foundation Establishment. After passing through the meridians, if the great acupoints of the body opened, one reached the Spirit-Penetration stage. But if one had built their foundation, the next step was to solidify the sea of Qi into a golden core—Core Formation. Each path had its strengths. Of course, there were countless methods of cultivation in the world, but these two systems were the most widely spread.

After these stages came Soul Manifestation and Mortal Shedding, which were similar in both systems. Above these was the Transcendence Realm, known as the ‘Celestial’ stage. Beyond that, yet more mysterious realms awaited—but for Wu Yue now, they remained far off.

Wu Yue had chosen to adapt to local ways, striving to reach Soul Manifestation by way of Core Formation. Yet he lacked certain profound insights, and so remained at Core Formation. Still, thanks to his formidable divine sense, he could face even those at Soul Manifestation on equal ground. This was Bai Chengxue’s objective assessment.

As for that fateful battle, it had ended almost as soon as it began. Wu Yue, unable to muster any special techniques, had used the “Ah Fei Swift Sword,” never imagining that this martial art from a world of lesser cultivation, when coupled with boundless spiritual energy and overwhelming divine sense, would mutate so dramatically.

Wu Yue still vividly remembered that colossal sword shadow, which pierced all things with an unimaginable force.

It was truly fearsome. And then Wu Yue collapsed in glory. Bai Chengxue had put it vividly: it was like a man trying to drag a mountain with a straw rope and use it to crush his enemy.

For all his sarcasm, Bai Chengxue had grown much friendlier to Wu Yue—explaining the world’s basic facts, for instance. This world was called the Realm of Immortal Spirits; the spiritual energy of heaven and earth came in many forms; unless one surpassed the Mortal Shedding stage, their lifespan was no more than five hundred years; and so on. But above all, this was a world where power reigned supreme.

One had to admit, Bai Chengxue was a fine friend—even when Wu Yue’s questions were naïve, Bai Chengxue never hesitated to explain, never questioned Wu Yue’s origins or his story.

Twenty years passed both quickly and slowly. Sometimes the image of a woman would surface in Wu Yue’s mind, and he would allow himself to grow calm. As for Chen Jishan, Wu Yue believed the man must die, yet felt no hatred—only the intent to kill.

And as for my grievances from Earth—if you are dead, so be it. If you yet live, your death is certain. Alas, the day of my return remains distant as ever.

The mountain wind howled, making his robes snap and flutter.

Twenty years of secluded cultivation had finally borne fruit.

Wu Yue leapt boldly from the cliff, laughing with wild abandon.

Henceforth, the sky is vast and the birds fly free; henceforth, I shall follow my own heart.

Such is the allure of strength.