Chapter 87: Changing Hearts, Changing People

Wu Yue slowly exhaled a breath of spiritual energy, faintly tinged with a subtle shade of purple. Once it turned fully violet, that would mark his entry into the first layer of the Innate Violet Qi Technique, which was more or less equivalent to reaching the Foundation Establishment stage. Only then did Wu Yue stand up, rubbing his legs, which had grown sore from sitting cross-legged for too long. Qing Yuzi, as if possessing foreknowledge, suddenly spoke, “Is it all over? If you lack perseverance and diligence in cultivation, how can you ever hope to reach the Great Dao?”

Wu Yue glanced at the sun setting in the west, feeling too lazy to respond to the lonely old man. He scooped up the Taishan Hall, tucked it into his pocket, and headed straight down the mountain. The scenery along the way was quite picturesque, with its own particular charm. This peak of Old Mount Huang was called Crane-Carrying Peak, named after a tale from seven hundred years ago.

The first sect leader of Old Mount Huang achieved enlightenment here, summoning thousands of white cranes, each carrying a stone in its beak. They dropped the stones here to form the mountain peak, which is how the name came to be. As for all that talk about vast oceans turning to mulberry fields, or the shifting of the land, well, this is the Spirit Immortal Realm—don’t take it too seriously. It is said that this sect leader later shattered the void and departed. Where he went is left to the imagination; suffice it to say, it is a place of wonders, where all desires are fulfilled. In short, he more or less became an immortal.

Regarding the matter of immortals, the traditional answer is that long ago, cultivators were rare, and the common people, ignorant and unsophisticated, mistook powerful cultivators for deities. Those individuals, who needed incense and offerings or had other motives, were happy to accept such worship. As for so-called ascension, opening the gates of heaven, or breaking through the void, the prevailing belief is that they simply went to another world—a stronger one.

Of course, that’s just common knowledge among cultivators. Even now, in the eyes of ordinary people, immortals still exist, and most cultivators are considered as such—though at the very least, you should be able to fly.

Cultivators are not exactly rare, but it’s all a matter of proportion. Out of a million people, perhaps half have the opportunity to choose the path of cultivation. Of those five hundred thousand, at most ten thousand actually pursue it and persist. After enduring the harshness of the cultivation world and the temptations of the mortal realm, only about a thousand continue on. Of those, perhaps a hundred will remain entangled in worldly affairs. And among those hundred, at most ten will ever reveal their true identities, for no one enjoys being the constant subject of attention. Thus, though cultivators are plentiful, they are rarely seen, giving rise to so many legends of immortals.

Wu Yue suddenly understood a simple truth: why those at the pinnacle are said to abstain from mortal food, and why disciples of Crane-Carrying Peak on Old Mount Huang usually live mid-mountain. It was likely that the first sect leader’s magic was so great that he summoned too many cranes, resulting in a peak so high that ordinary disciples cannot make a round trip in a day. As for those cultivators who roam freely as the wind, most no longer require food as sustenance—that is what it means to abstain from the world’s smoke and fire.

Wu Yue felt his steps grow heavier; the few streams of spiritual energy within him were of little help for the long trek down the mountain. The sky, too, grew darker and more sullen, unwilling to offer any kindness with its dreary weather.

A light rain began to fall, cool against his face, and the wind slipped into his clothes, making him shiver with discomfort. In this late autumn season, the rain was biting cold. Wu Yue realized he was woefully underdressed.

“Achoo!” He could not help but sneeze, sighing inwardly as his stomach rumbled in protest. In this communal sect, missing a mealtime meant you either fended for yourself, waited for the next meal, or simply went hungry. Wu Yue gazed miserably at the endless road ahead.

“Boy, don’t waste time! Cultivation isn’t limited to sitting in meditation; you can practice anywhere, anytime.” Wu Yue felt that Qing Yuzi’s temperament had changed, becoming more and more verbose. “Let me tell you, every true master is forged through years of solitude and perseverance, not by dreaming of instant success. Young people are always too ambitious, destined to float like duckweed, unable to withstand the storms of life.”

Qing Yuzi’s words made sense, and Wu Yue knew it, but the timing was unfortunate. Cold and hungry, all Wu Yue wanted was to return to his warm little cabin—even if there was no food, just a cup of hot water would be a comfort.

“Old Qing, we haven’t even made it down the mountain yet, and it’s raining. In this darkness, if I slip and fall… well, we’d both be done for.” Unable to tolerate Qing Yuzi’s nagging any longer, Wu Yue began to threaten him unceremoniously. Even the shift in address showed how their relationship had grown more amicable.

“If you have a solution, just say it. Otherwise, stop nagging and let me concentrate.” Wu Yue did have options, like summoning Chang’an, but the intense weakness that followed always made him abandon that extravagant thought.

Threats seemed to work best; Qing Yuzi stopped mocking and simply said, “If you focus on cultivating your breath now, the benefits will come naturally. Developing good habits is invaluable, and the world outside is harsh.” He was still preaching, but his tone had clearly softened.

Wu Yue tried it, and promptly fell flat on his face—after all, splitting attention in such a way was a dangerous thing, especially when one’s mind was so divided.

His forehead throbbed with pain and a warm trickle ran down—he must have been bleeding. Wu Yue sighed. “Old Qing, are you really not just fooling me? Or are you planning to perish together with me?”

“Nonsense. Once you get used to it, you’ll understand the benefits. You’ll see I wasn’t deceiving you,” Qing Yuzi retorted unceremoniously, though his heart was a little aggrieved. After all these years, his good intentions were still being misunderstood.

He gazed up at the great hall above, its ancient, blue-black roof seeming eternal and unchanging. At that moment, Qing Yuzi longed to go outside, even if it meant getting drenched like Wu Yue.

“Whether battling others or casting spells, it all comes down to the flow of energy—whoever is even the slightest bit faster or stronger gains the advantage. The world is full of danger; there aren’t so many safe places for you to rest and recover.” Qing Yuzi began a new round of gentle instruction.

Wu Yue finally gave up on descending the mountain in the dark, choosing instead to sit on the stone steps. Coincidentally, he looked up at the sky: a gloomy, drizzling rain, with only a star or two faintly visible.

“Qing Yuzi, what did you cultivate for all your life?” Wu Yue suddenly asked.

The Taishan Hall remained silent for a long time, and Wu Yue did not press further; he was, after all, only musing aloud.

“To be a free man, to follow my heart every day.” It sounded so simple, yet was so hard to achieve. But it was precisely this difficulty that made it interesting. Many delight in the fish they catch after much toil, but few are moved by the more essential sunlight.

Wu Yue sat alone, yet did not feel lonely. He was no longer the same as before.

ps: The first volume is nearly finished.