Chapter Seventy-Eight: One of the Five Hundred Bonds of Virtue

Clothes make the man, and a saddle makes the horse; this is but a simple kind of embellishment. Yet for certain people—those known as “living immortals”—their bearing is embellishment enough. Take, for example, Yu Dangran before Wu Yue’s eyes. He still appeared in his prime, yet there was a sense of time-worn experience about him, not the withering of age, but the depth that comes from enduring the years.

This master of Mount Huang, famed for splitting rivers with his palm and halting mountains with a single hand, needed only a plain Daoist robe to display what true “immortal” dignity meant. Now, as Yu Dangran sat across the table from Wu Yue, it was impossible to say whether he was man or deity. Wu Yue was wary but not fearful—not because he believed his hidden cards could guarantee his safety, but because he clung to life without fearing death.

“So that old Daoist is your junior brother? You’ve come to apologize on his behalf? I must say, I’m rather flattered.”

Yu Dangran shook his head with grand magnanimity. “It is only right; there’s no need for such formality. This is as it should be.” As he spoke, he pushed forward a wooden box—seemingly a cheap trinket that could be bought anywhere. Only upon opening it did Wu Yue realize its true value. Inside, twelve purple-gold pills, each enclosed in a tiny jade case, were arrayed in order, their presence extraordinary. Wu Yue had heard that Mount Huang was famed for its elixirs, each one worth a fortune, and now twelve of them were laid before him.

“Indeed, as expected,” Wu Yue said, though his words were not truly praise. “In truth, you needn’t have troubled yourself.” Since when does a dragon bow its head and apologize earnestly to an ant? If it does, the dragon surely has ulterior motives. Wu Yue thought as much.

Yu Dangran’s face was sincere. “My junior brother was in the wrong; as his elder, it is my duty to make amends. I do not ask you to reconcile, only to pardon him somewhat—and perhaps foster a good connection. My brother had his reasons, but ultimately, he was in the wrong and fell short.”

There was not a hint of threat in his words, yet the simple act of Yu Dangran sitting there was like a mountain pressing down.

His sincerity was evident: he had not come making a show, but quietly and discreetly.

“There are countless arts of cultivation in this world. Foundation-building and forming the golden core are but one in ten thousand. Whether it is the physical cultivators breaking through the void with martial prowess, the Grand Jade Tree Sutra of the Palace of Pure Clarity, the breath-cultivators from across the seas, or even the cultivation of the Purple Palace—each is a different path, yet all can lead to the Great Dao if pursued deeply enough.”

“Then, Master Yu, are you aware of my current predicament?” Wu Yue asked. No matter how many methods of cultivation exist, one must still be alive to practice them.

Yu Dangran nodded slightly. “I can see a little.” He gestured toward the box of pills.

Wu Yue shook his head. “I know my own condition. At best, these elixirs can prolong my life—they are far from enough to save me.”

“Have you ever thought about what kind of person you wish to be?” Yu Dangran asked slowly.

Wu Yue’s face was expressionless. “Your junior brother asked me the same question—right before he attacked.”

Yu Dangran was momentarily taken aback, then stroked his beard and smiled. “That Huang Sanlong…”

“Isn’t it strange?”

“Since my brother has asked, I will not press the point. Hold to your heart, and you will not be led astray.”

“Let me help you for now,” Yu Dangran said, striking suddenly. Wu Yue could not resist in the slightest.

Yu Dangran pressed one hand to Wu Yue’s forehead and raised his other hand toward Wu Yue’s chest. A dark red mark appeared at Wu Yue’s brow—first faint, then deepening, finally turning the color of blood.

At that moment, the spiritual energy within Wu Yue, which he could not control, began to gather furiously—swiftly, yet without chaos. Wu Yue felt a measure of relief; this “guardian” seemed, for now at least, truly sincere.

All his spiritual power was drawn together by an indescribable force, forming a small bead that hovered within his lower dantian. Under inner sight, it seemed no larger than a thumb, yet it contained all the power of someone half a step from shedding the mortal coil. If detonated, its force would be terrifying.

Yu Dangran drew a slow breath, lowered his hands, and exhaled again. Wu Yue’s expression was complicated; whatever his other feelings, Yu Dangran’s sincerity was unmistakable. This gathering of spiritual energy seemed simple, but demanded immense control and spiritual perception—especially as Yu Dangran was, in a sense, a guest in another’s body, making it all the more incredible.

“Thank you,” Wu Yue said with a bow. Although his meridians were still shattered and his acupuncture points in disarray, the immediate crisis was averted.

Yu Dangran smiled gently, without a trace of arrogance. “I could remove the seal on your soul, but it is better left untouched—for if it were broken, your soul might leave your body, and you would face grave danger.”

Wu Yue did not care. His last resort was to let his soul depart and seize another body. Though this went against the will of heaven, it was sometimes the only option. Whether Yu Dangran could read his thoughts or not, his next words struck Wu Yue like a basin of cold water.

“When ordinary souls leave the body, death follows. Even if a cultivator refines his soul, physical cultivation opposes natural law, and survival at the root becomes impossible.” Yu Dangran spoke casually, but Wu Yue believed him, for the notion of rebirth by seizing another’s body always seemed too much of a defiance of heaven. He could only hope his unique technique was an exception.

“Master, do you have a remedy for me?” Wu Yue asked humbly, his face now earnest.

Yu Dangran smiled faintly, like a celestial being trailing mist. “At this auction in the Pavilion of Eight Directions, there will be a Nine Orifices Lotus Heart—a supreme treasure for mending severed meridians and acupuncture points.”

Wu Yue pondered this.

“Every sect’s secret methods are kept in the heart and hidden within the spirit. But I know someone has secretly copied a manual of the Innate Purple Qi Method. His name is Qing Yuzu, and he, too, will attend the auction.”

Wu Yue’s gaze grew peculiar.

“In three days, the great demonic cultivator Ren Canghai will seek treatment from the Monster Healer on the plains. He possesses a divine technique for sowing spiritual seeds, which has profound effects for repairing meridians.”

“You know all this?” Wu Yue could not conceal his astonishment.

“Indeed,” Yu Dangran replied naturally, “for he was wounded by my own hand.”

Wu Yue sighed softly, realizing just how young and naive he still was.

“But I cannot afford the first two, and the third would never heal me,” he said, though he already knew the answer.

“In striving for the Dao, one must contend to gain; not to contend is to lose.” Yu Dangran’s tone was calm. This was a saying from the ancient military treatise by the semi-sage Du Ruhui, always controversial among the righteous. The mainstream believed in the way of the gentleman, and though this sage’s teachings were said to echo the laws of heaven and earth, he was still called only a semi-saint.

Wu Yue’s expression was complicated. He now admired Yu Dangran’s ability to make the act of seizing sound so dignified. Though he, too, intended to resort to force, he would never speak so righteously of it.

“All things are borrowed from nature, and to nature must all return; mankind belongs to nature as well. There is no true difference in ownership—everything flows back to the same source.” So spoke Yu Dangran, the living immortal and master of Mount Huang, expounding his doctrine. Wu Yue, though he had never thought otherwise, now found himself oddly convinced—almost honored by the notion.

“But Master Yu, as you see, I have little strength to bind a chicken. To contend for gain now would be like striking a stone with an egg.” Wu Yue brazenly pressed for more, uncertain of Yu Dangran’s aim, but intent on securing his own interests.

Yu Dangran laughed. “Each has his own destiny.”

Wu Yue was left speechless.

“I’ll take my leave now. If fate allows you to survive, you might visit Mount Huang someday. It may lack myriad wonders, but it has its own unique charms.”

Yu Dangran’s words were plain, but Wu Yue could not shake a sense of something strange.

“I will take my leave.”

“Shall I see you out?”

“No need.”

Indeed, there was no need. Yu Dangran took a single step—it was as if the very earth folded beneath him—and vanished without a trace. Wu Yue could sense nothing at all.

“Truly, an old man who’s become a monster… what, exactly, is Yu Dangran’s goal?” Wu Yue sighed.

“The so-called righteous are but hypocrites in borrowed skin,” came Red Sleeve’s cold voice. Wu Yue was not surprised.

Meanwhile, on the street, Yu Dangran gazed up at the sky, lost in silent thought.

“The heavens begin to tilt; today I sow yet another good fate among five hundred. May it prove useful.”

White clouds rolled across the tranquil, blue, and beautiful sky.