Chapter 41 Kid, I Told You Not to Steal Chickens

Within the Pot-Heaven Palace, inside the water mirror.

At first, the ascending Daoist practitioners were much of a muchness.

However, as time went on, due to differences in their comprehension of the Dao and the states of their Dao hearts, the gaps gradually widened, and the crowd began to diverge.

After thirty steps, the number of people was halved.

After sixty steps, the number was halved once again.

Those who still persisted were mostly disciples from major sects, with only a small number coming from minor lineages and independent rogue cultivators.

On the spectator stands, Xuanxu tightly clenched his fists hidden within his sleeves; Xuankong and Feibai paused their conversation; Xuanyang’s gaze burned brightly. Out of the ten disciples from the Seeking Truth View, only two were still holding on.

Changqingzi stood at the fiftieth step.

Chang'anzi stood at the sixty-seventh step.

Except for Xuanyang, who kept his eyes fixed on his own disciple, everyone else watched Chang'anzi, feeling both nervous and expectant.

Yet shortly after, their complexions changed drastically.

This was because the steps began to transform; cloud radiance bloomed, the mist grew denser, and from each step beyond the sixtieth, two hands reached out.

These were the reflections within the steps.

Upon stepping out of the stairs, their hands, feet, and bodies were as white as snow, and their faces lacked even the slightest facial features. They were faceless entities composed entirely of cloud and mist.

The higher one climbed, the more complete the body of the faceless entity that emerged. At the sixty-first step, only hands were visible; by the seventieth step, the entire body had emerged.

When one reached the seventy-first step, the clouds and mist would entwine around the ascending Daoist, and the aura of the reflection and the true body would begin to exchange.

With every step upward, the color upon the cloud-mist entity grew slightly richer, becoming increasingly similar to the ascending Daoist.

By the eightieth step, everything below the head was indistinguishable from the ascending Daoist.

By the eighty-fifth step, even the facial features were clearly visible, making it hard to tell the true from the false.

Starting from the eighty-sixth step, the true body and the reflection began to swap positions. The true body sank step by step into the stairs, much like stepping into water or sinking into a quagmire, and the identities of the two began to reverse.

Xuanxu’s palms were slick with sweat.

Xuanyin stared unblinkingly.

Xuankong drank tea continuously.

They were terrified that Chang'anzi might not be able to hold on. Once he cleared this trial and entered the top hundred, his victory would be completely secure.

***

On Cloud-Sky Peak, upon the stone steps.

Chang'anzi felt as though he had traveled through time, returning to the past to see his master and relive the bygone years once more.

In his mischievous youth, he would climb trees to steal bird eggs, wade into rivers to catch fish, and filch his elders’ spiritual food. His master would always be so furious that he flew into a rage, using a rattan cane to punish him by day and secretly applying soothing balms to his wounds by night.

As he grew older and began his cultivation, practicing seated meditation and holding horse stances, his master taught him hand by hand. He had always found it bitter, weeping with a runny nose and tears streaming down his face, seizing every chance to slack off when his master wasn't looking. Yet his master never grew angry, instructing him tirelessly with inexhaustible patience.

Later, when his cultivation had achieved minor success, his master took him down the mountain to travel and experience the flourishing mortal world—where common folk lived amidst the worldly smoke of cooking fires, and powerful noble clans engaged in ruthless deceit.

He had slain fiends and vanquished ghosts, feasted on exotic delicacies in grand wine towers and tasted rustic flavors in rural fields, rowed boats upon tranquil lakes and journeyed through silent forests on foot. Master and disciple had journeyed three hundred miles together.

Later still, his master entered the Heaven-Earth Courtyard, an honor in which he shared a profound sense of pride. The master and disciple conversed freely beneath the moon, though mostly it was his master speaking, while he stole a few cups of wine, grew dizzy and muddled, and slept for an entire day.

Not long after, the devastating news of his master's sudden demise arrived. It felt as though the heavens had collapsed upon him. He secretly descended the mountain, only to be ambushed midway. Severely wounded and thrust into a plummeting realm, teetering on the verge of destruction, he was rescued just in time by senior members of his sect.

Following that, his heart turned to ash, and he withdrew into seclusion within the Scripture Depository, spending his days facing Senior Uncle Xuanming, whose steadfast dedication to the Dao ultimately infected and inspired him...

All those past events surfaced in his mind, joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, love and hate, gratitude and resentment, rushing forward one after another.

Whether they brought him happiness or unhappiness, they were overbearing and irresistible.

In their moments of beauty, the flowers were blooming and the moon was full.

In their moments of cruelty, every cut pierced his heart.

What had not been forgotten grew even more vivid with time.

Even what he had forgotten had its seals broken open.

His memories were clearer than ever before.

Memory and reality overlapped, the past and the present became chaotic, and the dazed expression on Chang'anzi's face deepened. He could no longer tell where he was or remember what he was doing.

Until the scene of stealing a chicken replayed before him. He sneaked stealthily into Goddess Peak, and taking advantage of Junior Sister Changning's inattention, he grabbed a spiritual chicken by the neck and snapped it without the slightest hesitation.

Later, he plucked its feathers, drained its blood, gutted it, and built a firewood fire in the forest. When the meat aroma filled the air and the fat sizzled, Chang'anzi was overjoyed, picked up the roast chicken, rushed up to Dao-Guiding Peak, and entered the Inquiring-Dao Courtyard.

"Senior Uncle, I've got something good!"

Yet, the familiar scenery remained, but the familiar figure was gone. His senior uncle was neither in the small courtyard nor in the Scripture Depository.

If he couldn't be found, he wouldn't look for him.

Chang'anzi tore off half the chicken to leave for his senior uncle, and sat down himself beneath the vigorous, ancient pine tree of the Inquiring-Dao Courtyard. Inhaling the enchanting aroma, just as he lowered his head to taste it, he saw his senior uncle suddenly appear.

The white-haired old Daoist priest was bristling with rage, holding a peach-wood sword and slashing straight down with it.

"You brat, haven't I told you time and again not to steal chickens? Old Daoist thinks you're just asking for a beating!"

***

Crack!

The sword wind whistled, and Chang'anzi jolted violently awake.

The scene shattered abruptly; reality and memory were cleaved apart, and the past and present were severed.

The instant he opened his eyes, Chang'anzi discovered that everything from his waist down had sunk into the steps. Another version of himself was looking down at him from above with an eerie smile.

A flash of spiritual insight struck him like a divine blessing, and he suddenly understood. Opening his mouth, he declared, "The true are truly true, and the false are falsely false; the true are never false, and the false are never true."

"There is a saying in the mortal world: true gold fears no fire. Though you are my reflection, you can never become me."

***

The moment those words fell, Cloud-Sky Peak responded.

The ninetieth step ignited with flames, scorching the other Chang'anzi. A miserable cry rang out, and the fake counterpart began to revert to its original form.

Its facial features, skin tone, hair ornaments, and clothing melted away like flowing water, revealing a figure of cloud and mist. Later, the mist itself turned into water, and for every inch of water that flowed back into the steps, Chang'anzi stepped out of the steps by an inch.

When all the water had drained into the stairs, Chang'anzi had completely broken free from the quagmire. Looking down at the steps once more, the flowing water did not reform the reflection; it had vanished entirely.

At that moment, a profound realization arose in Chang'anzi’s heart:

"So, I have found myself again."

At this moment, his gaze was clearer than ever before; never had he recognized himself so thoroughly.

At the same time, he understood one thing:

The trial was also a fortuitous opportunity.

Both existed right beneath one's feet.

The further one walked and the higher one climbed, the closer one was to that opportunity, and the easier it was to attain good fortune.

It all depended on whether he pushed himself.

A single step was a single barrier.

Thirty steps made a major hurdle.

Crossing it meant enjoying the grace of opportunity.

This discovery thrilled Chang'anzi. With a steadfast mind, he resumed his ascent.

With his next step down, there was no more interrogation; instead, a heavy weight descended upon him, an invisible mass pressing down.

After carefully sensing it, he climbed the steps one by one.

On the spectator stands, the Daoists of the Seeking Truth View rejoiced.

He had made it!

In the Dao-debate assessment, Chang'anzi was securely locked into the top hundred.

Regrettably, Changqingzi had stopped at the ninetieth step.

Despite the regret, everyone's mood remained quite high. Aside from Chang'anzi's impressive performance, it was also because Changqingzi's ranking in this assessment would place him within the top hundred and fifty. As long as he exerted himself during the Hundred Arts of Cultivation and the Martial Trials, he still had hope of breaking into the top hundred.

***

On Cloud-Sky Peak, Chang'anzi was drenched in sweat.

For every step he climbed past the ninetieth, the pressure doubled in weight.

He guessed that these thirty steps tested one's perseverance.

Standing at the one hundred and fifteenth step, Chang'anzi took a deep breath and clenched his teeth to press forward.

Having practiced the *Spirit-Form Body Refining Art*, his physique was formidable, and the self-torturing cultivation of the past year and a half had forged his perseverance to an extraordinary degree.

For now, he could still bear it.

Every step was heavy, his pace grew slower and slower, his spine bent further and further, and his powerful muscles bulged to the point where they seemed ready to burst through his Daoist robe.

Yet he continued to climb upward, pressing ever onward!

Through the water mirror, numerous guests watched as Chang'anzi surpassed opponent after opponent. When he broke into the top fifty, the major Daoist sects could no longer remain calm, and guests from other factions began whispering among themselves, inquiring everywhere about this person's background.

When they learned he came from the Seeking Truth View, reactions varied. Other factions remarked that heroes are not born of provenance, but the expressions of the major Daoist sects shifted as they looked toward the Seeking Truth View.

The Seeking Truth View again!

The Grand Elder leading the Purple Cloud Sect asked, "This poor Daoist recalls that this minor Daoist lineage once produced a Daoist who broke into the top fifty of the assembly and claimed the crown among minor lineages. Xuanye, was his name?"

An accompanying elder replied, "Indeed. Twenty years ago, he ranked eightieth in this Cloud-Sky Peak trial."

The Grand Elder looked at the water mirror and sighed, "It seems this Seeking Truth View is quite skilled in teaching disciples. This boy is even more exceptional than Xuanye; he's about to break into the top ten."

Other major Daoist sects either sighed like the Purple Cloud Sect, wore indifferent expressions, or smiled faintly.

Willingly or not, none of them uttered grievances. In full public view, they showed great propriety and did not mar the image of the Daoist sects.

On the Seeking Truth View's spectator platform, Xuanxu and the others felt their hearts leap into their throats; they had never imagined Chang'anzi would perform so brilliantly.

Even Daoist Feibai was infected by the atmosphere, gulping down tea and growing uncontrollably nervous.

When he broke into the top ten, Xuanyang almost laughed out loud, only for Xuankong to swiftly clap a hand over his mouth.

Chang'anzi remained oblivious to the outside world.

When he gritted his teeth and crossed the one hundred and twentieth step, his whole body trembled as he felt a surge of energy pour from the steps into his body. The bottleneck holding back his *Spirit-Form Body Refining Art* was shattered, pushing his physical strength to a higher level and even enhancing his spiritual perception.

The mountain-like pressure instantly lightened by more than half, and he felt he could persist a little longer, recalling his senior uncle’s past teachings:

Think of your master.

If you aren't dead, train yourself to death.

Now, he thought not only of his master, but also of his senior uncle: if you aren't dead, climb yourself to death.

Taking a deep breath, Chang'anzi continued upward.

At the one hundred and twenty-first step, the trial changed once more. It was still a test of perseverance, but it no longer targeted the physical body; instead, it attacked the soul. Sword techniques came thick and fast, piercing straight toward the space between his brows. A crack appeared in his spirit-gateway, and with a muffled groan, he pressed forward.

And as he stepped onto this level, the gazes of most people fell upon him. They wanted to see just how far this disciple of a minor sect could go, even though four other Daoists remained ahead of him—yet those latter figures hailed from major sects, which, in the eyes of the guests, was only natural.

Chang'anzi, by contrast, was a true dark horse.

One hundred and twenty-second, one hundred and twenty-five, one hundred and twenty-nine...

As the levels climbed higher, cracks proliferated across his spirit-gateway.

Sword after sword, enduring the agonizing pain of his soul being torn apart, Chang'anzi gradually recognized them: these were the New Eight Trigrams Sword moves from the depths of his memory, which Senior Uncle Xuanming had once demonstrated for him, and which he had practiced for a year and a half.

Only, every single sword stroke had lacked system, chaotic and disordered.

Yet with every single step he crossed, his comprehension of the Eight Trigrams Sword deepened; the chaos was sorted out, and his sword intent rose.

Thus, enduring the pain, Chang'anzi pressed onward.

Sweat soaked the stone steps, yet he persisted.

Cracks covered his spirit-gateway, yet he still persisted.

In the end, from hunched over to crawling on all fours, Chang'anzi persisted, dragging himself up step by step.

He surpassed one person; he knew it not.

He surpassed two; he knew it not.

When he climbed to second place, he still knew it not.

The audience was deeply moved.

Some looked on with disdain, while others felt profound admiration.

In the Purple Cloud Sect, the Grand Elder praised, "This youth possesses supreme perseverance."

On Cloud-Sky Peak, when he crawled up to the one hundred and fiftieth step, Chang'anzi collapsed flat onto the ground in a sprawling shape, looking as though he had just been fished out of the water.

Yet he was smiling, and his hearty laughter echoed throughout the Pot-Heaven Palace.

Because he had done it; he had conquered himself.

Above his spirit-gateway, every single crack vanished, transforming into a massive amount of sword- Dao comprehension that poured into his heart.

***

The steps beneath his feet vanished, and Cloud-Sky Peak faded away.

The instant Chang'anzi and the other two young Daoists materialized above the water mirror, thunderous applause erupted, deafening in its intensity.

They were the top three of this trial.

The Azure-Clothed Immortal flew through the air to approach them.

He first offered words of encouragement to the champion from the Purple Cloud Sect, before turning to converse with the runner-up, Chang'anzi.

"Congratulations to the young friend for claiming the runner-up position in this Dao Debate."

"To reach this point as a disciple of a minor sect is something that has never happened in the thousand-year history of Fengyang County."

"Little friend is destined to make your name resound through the county's hundreds of districts, and even within our Great Xuan Divine Dynasty, your reputation will soar."

Chang'anzi could scarcely believe it:

"I won?"

"I achieved the runner-up position?"

The Azure-Clothed Immortal nodded in assent.

He fully understood Chang'anzi's disbelief.

Because he himself found it utterly fantastical; had he not witnessed it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it.

"In the thousand-year history of Fengyang County's Heaven-Earth Courtyard, you may be considered unprecedented. Having claimed this glory, your heart-lake must be turbulent with countless emotions—do you have anything to say?"

"I do!"

The Azure-Clothed Immortal grew curious.

Everyone else was curious as well.

The other two top finishers hailed from major sects, whereas Chang'anzi alone came from a thoroughly ordinary Daoist lineage.

They wanted to hear what this young Daoist who had wrought a miracle would say.

"That this humble Daoist can achieve today's success is inseparable from the immense support of my sect. I am deeply grateful for my sect's nurturing."

Chang'anzi spoke from the bottom of his heart, bowing deeply in salute.

Had it not been for his sect raising him, he would already be dead.

Had it not been for his sect rescuing him, he would likewise be dead.

In truth, he wanted to thank Senior Uncle Xuanming even more.

Without his teachings, he would never have undergone a rebirth.

Without the body-refining technique he imparted, coupled with his rigorous training, he would have found it difficult to clear the two trials of perseverance.

Without him constantly urging him to study the scriptures over the past few years, he would never have crossed the first thirty steps.

Without his instructions still ringing in his ears, he could never have shattered his self-barrier, awakened his true mind, and recognized his true self.

One hundred and fifty steps, with every thirty steps forming a different trial—his senior uncle had helped him conquer four of them.

That he could claim this success was an achievement in which his revered elder held the greatest merit.

However, his senior uncle loved peace and tranquility.

Chang'anzi thus suppressed the words of gratitude on the tip of his tongue; keeping mortal trifles from disturbing his senior uncle was the best recompense he could offer him.

From this day forth, this would be the creed by which he lived.

Xuanxu and the others were similarly moved.

Rising to their feet, they returned the bow with cupped hands.

That the Seeking Truth View could produce such a disciple filled them with immense pride.