Chapter Fifty-One: Ascension to Immortality

(Hmm, the Three Rivers ranking has finally been overtaken. It managed to hold on for three whole days under the divine might—no small feat. Thank you to all the readers and friends supporting Southern Dynasty, you have every reason to be proud! Well then, until the very last moment, I’ll keep asking for Three Rivers votes. Is a comeback possible? If we explode back to the top, there will be bonus chapters!)

In the vast, shadowy world, all was shrouded in mist and uncertainty, with no sense of direction—north, south, east, or west. In the very center, a towering scroll floated in the air, suspended without support, hanging straight down. The scroll seemed covered with countless characters, but most were dim and indistinct, their forms unreadable.

Crack!

With a soft sound, the very first three characters at the top of the scroll suddenly blazed with dazzling light, shining brilliantly, visible from afar. They read: “The Supreme Has…”

Each character was the size of a fist, radiating with a flowing brilliance, like three bright lanterns, capable of illuminating the depths of one’s soul…

Chen Jianchen’s eyes flew open, a faint smile spilling from the corner of his lips—certain things were unfolding just as he had foreseen.

…

Life at the academy made it difficult to come and go, but news traveled swiftly. Every day, all manner of gossip circulated among the students, with Wang Fu resembling a little reporter.

That day, Wang Fu gathered another piece of explosive news: the towering divine tree on the banks of the Jian River had vanished overnight!

It was said that on that fateful night, thunder and lightning raged, rain poured in torrents, and chaos ruled the skies. The next morning, someone discovered that the mystical tree, famed for tying lovers’ destinies, had disappeared without a trace—branches, leaves, even the roots were gone, leaving behind only a massive, gaping pit. When questioned, the temple caretaker at the Tree Spirit Shrine replied in bewilderment that he’d slept deeply that night and noticed nothing amiss.

Thus, rumors ran wild. Many believed the divine tree, after a thousand years of cultivation, had finally attained immortality and ascended to the heavens as a carefree deity…

The rumors grew ever more fantastical, eventually drawing the attention of the Jiangzhou Prefectural Office. After an on-site investigation, the authorities immediately decided to fund the construction of a resplendent Tree Spirit Shrine atop the pit, so the people might continue their worship.

The banks of the Jian River bustled with activity, a scene of lively excitement.

Yet, amidst the throng, few noticed the silent arrival of a burly, bearded man who appeared on a nearby hillside. His thick brows, square nose, and iron-hard beard encircling his jaw made his face resemble a brush of steel.

Besides his striking appearance, the massive sword case strapped to his back was enough to inspire dread. The black, heavy hilt was half a foot long, forged from some unknown, weighty material.

His cold gaze swept across the riverbank below, his thick brows knitting in thought. Then, as if his eyes could pierce the void, his attention shifted to the distant horizon.

There, the solitary, imposing peak of Brushrest Mountain stood aloof.

“Nascent soul leaving the body—divine form separated,” the man murmured suddenly. After a brief pause, he turned down the slope, muttering, “This demon has cultivated nearly a thousand years and reached the nascent soul stage… But so what? If we meet again, I’ll surely cut it down…”

…

The news Wang Fu brought stirred Chen Jianchen. He pondered it slowly, sensing he had caught the faintest thread of something hidden beneath the surface, though he could not yet make it clear. For some reason, he recalled the image of the half-male, half-female tree demon from the film screen—could it really be such a coincidence?

But the other had already gone, and the reason surely wasn’t the “inscription” he left behind, but something deeper and more profound. Yet, this incident had directly refined two strands of Righteous Energy, enabling Chen Jianchen to grasp more clearly the method for advancing the “True Chapter of the Three Foundations.”

The battle between right and evil—there is no joy without struggle.

In the following days, debate still raged in the academy about the mysterious disappearance of the divine tree. Many believed it had indeed become a god; there could be no other explanation. As for talk of demons, such topics were taboo within the academy and not to be spoken of lightly.

Chen Jianchen took no part in these debates, continuing with his own affairs.

As the days passed, the deadline for his consignment calligraphy was approaching. He requested leave and went alone to Xue Ni Studio to see how matters stood.

Xue Ni Studio was as bustling as ever, business booming. As soon as Chen Jianchen walked in, he saw his piece, “A Life at Peace in the Mist and Rain,” still hanging motionless upon the wall.

Manager Li greeted him with a bland tone, “Young Master Chen, two people asked about your calligraphy, but both thought the price too high. Would you like to revise the agreement and lower it?”

Chen Jianchen replied, “No, if it sells, it sells. If not, so be it.”

With that, he turned to leave.

Behind him, Manager Li cursed silently: “A penniless scholar, so inflexible—truly a block of wood that can’t be carved! In two days the consignment’s up. If it doesn’t sell, you’ll just have to take it back as scrap paper. Hmph, don’t think you’ll get to consign your work here again, wasting valuable wall space…”

So muttering, he returned to the counter.

Outside, Chen Jianchen had no desire to return to the academy so soon. He wandered the city streets at leisure.

The streets were crowded and lively, a constant stream of people bustling past. Standing amidst the vibrant scene, Chen Jianchen paused for a long while, absorbing the noisy atmosphere. For a moment, it all felt dreamlike, strangely unreal.

“Young Master Chen, Young Master Chen…”

A shout jolted him from his reverie. Turning, he saw Manager Li from Xue Ni Studio hurrying toward him, calling his name.

Chen Jianchen was taken aback, not understanding.

Manager Li rushed up, panting, “So here you are, Young Master Chen. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“What is it, Manager Li?” Chen Jianchen asked.

Without another word, Manager Li grabbed him by the arm. “Come back to the shop at once—someone wants your calligraphy!”

It was only a piece of calligraphy. Even if a customer wanted to buy it, was it really worth all this fuss, for Manager Li to run out in person to find him so anxiously?

Chen Jianchen was puzzled.

Only when he returned to Xue Ni Studio did he realize the matter was not so simple.

No sooner had he departed than a richly dressed elder entered the studio. At first glance, he took an immediate liking to Chen Jianchen’s piece and bought it on the spot. The elder even remarked, “Chen Jianchen’s calligraphy is worth five hundred coins, but the poem inscribed upon it is worth far more. I would like to pay ten silver ingots if Chen Jianchen will write out the entire poem for me.”

Ten silver ingots—this was a significant deal for Manager Li, who stood to make a five hundred coin commission. With his own interests at stake, how could he delay? He rushed out to find Chen Jianchen, forgetting all his earlier disdain.

Indeed, he would never let money slip away.

A ten-ingot deal was ample reason for a meeting in one of Xue Ni Studio’s private guest parlors.

Inside, Chen Jianchen met the elder, who appeared to be in his fifties, of medium stature, with kind features and dignified bearing—a man of obvious distinction.

After exchanging courtesies, the elder introduced himself as Huanpu, of Suzhou. He was passing through Jiangzhou on business, and, upon entering Xue Ni Studio by chance, was instantly taken with Chen Jianchen’s calligraphy. Thus, he offered a high price for a full rendition of the poem.

Such a request, Chen Jianchen had no reason to refuse. After all, it was only a matter of transcribing from memory. As for the agreed division of profit, he and Manager Li had already discussed it en route—he would not be shortchanged.

Soon, he completed a full transcription of “Tune: Defending the Wind.”

Mr. Huanpu was delighted and paid the ten ingots as promised.

Afterward, Mr. Huanpu suddenly bowed to Chen Jianchen: “Young sir, so gifted and upright—an honor indeed. I have a favor to ask, though it may be presumptuous. Would you be willing to come to my home and serve as a tutor to my daughter? I would reward you most generously.”

At these words, Manager Li was stunned.

Mr. Huanpu was clearly a man of great wealth. To be invited to his estate as a tutor was a far better position than working as a shop manager—better even than teaching at a private school or government academy.

How could Chen Jianchen, so young, have the fortune to be invited by a wealthy gentleman to teach his daughter, a genteel young lady?

With these thoughts, Manager Li could not help but feel a pang of envy.

c@.