Volume One: First Steps on the Path Chapter Forty-Four: Origins

Watching Ye Junze standing there in silence, deep in thought, Meng Yuan did not disturb him. After all, Ye Junze would eventually ask whatever he wanted to know, so Meng Yuan let him be and paid no further attention.

Ye Junze, meanwhile, was still reflecting on the scenes he had just witnessed—the battlefield, the figure of the man wielding a sword, and the original form of the small cauldron. All these left a profound impact on him. Although he had long understood that the path of cultivation would not be smooth, this was the first time he had seen such a grand battle between cultivators, and it inevitably shook his spirit. He couldn't help but wonder: would there come a day when he, too, would face such circumstances? And if that day truly arrived, how would he respond?

He pondered for a long time, but no answer came to him. With a shake of his head, he decided to stop dwelling on it. Whatever happens will happen; worrying now would be pointless and only increase his anxieties. Once he had sorted out his thoughts, Ye Junze no longer felt troubled. However, there were still some things he needed to ask, so he finally spoke.

“Meng Yuan,” Ye Junze called out into the air.

“I’m here. Is there something you need?” Meng Yuan replied respectfully.

“You saw the scene the small cauldron showed just now, didn’t you?” Ye Junze asked.

“Yes, I saw it,” came Meng Yuan’s voice.

“Don’t you have anything to say to me about it?” Ye Junze pressed.

“If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. If I know the answer, I will tell you,” Meng Yuan replied.

“I want to know what happened on that battlefield we just saw,” Ye Junze immediately voiced his confusion.

Meng Yuan explained slowly, “I am not entirely sure of the details, and that war took place so long ago that it is impossible to count the years. What I do know is that, after that event, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth began to wane, and eventually, it nearly vanished altogether. That period marked the darkest time in the history of cultivation. When war broke out, the world was shrouded in darkness; the sun and moon lost their luster; mountains and rivers were shattered; rivers flowed backward; and countless cultivators lost their lives in that conflict. I do not know how long the war lasted, but its end came without warning, and I am unaware of the reasons behind it.”

“Do you know who that man was? He seemed incredibly powerful—standing alone against thousands, he looked truly formidable.” Ye Junze’s eyes shone with admiration as he spoke.

“Yes, I do. He was a genius renowned throughout the cultivation world at the time, and also the most powerful cultivator of his era. Among his peers, few could rival him. Whether in tests of skill or on the battlefield, he could defeat his opponents with a single stroke of his sword. He was, in every sense, the very embodiment of strength.” Meng Yuan answered dutifully.

Ye Junze wondered if it was just his imagination, but he thought he detected genuine reverence in Meng Yuan’s tone as he spoke of that man. It was unusual, for Meng Yuan seldom showed any emotion in his speech. Just as Ye Junze was about to explore this further, Meng Yuan’s tone returned to its usual calm, almost as if that moment of admiration had been nothing but an illusion. Unable to make sense of it, Ye Junze let it go, knowing he still had many questions to ask.

He continued, “The giant cauldron on the battlefield, and the small cauldron that man was holding—are they the same as this small cauldron here?” Although Ye Junze had already guessed the answer, he wanted to confirm his suspicion.

This time, Meng Yuan gave a definite answer, confirming Ye Junze’s guess. “Yes,” he replied.

With that, Ye Junze felt somewhat relieved. Although he still regretted that the small cauldron had been reduced to its current useless state, it had once been an extraordinary artifact, after all. An artifact wielded by someone so powerful must have been formidable indeed.

Thinking this, Ye Junze said, “I’m inclined to believe you now, but it’s obvious this small cauldron was damaged in that war. Are you sure there’s any hope of restoring it?”

“I believe you can do it,” Meng Yuan said solemnly.

“You may believe in me, but I don’t have such faith in myself,” Ye Junze replied helplessly. “You said yourself the war shattered mountains and rivers. For all we know, the missing pieces of the cauldron are buried thousands of meters underground.”

“For all things, where there is cause, there is effect. Since the small cauldron has come into your hands, it means that fate has bound you together and that you are the best candidate to restore it,” Meng Yuan responded.

Ye Junze retorted at once, “If it’s a destiny that I might never fulfill in this lifetime, I’d rather not have it at all.”

“Things are as they are; you must look forward. Think positively—who knows, perhaps one day the missing fragments will appear before you, just as the small cauldron did today.” Though the words should have sounded like a jest, Meng Yuan spoke with such earnestness that Ye Junze almost believed such a thing might truly happen.

Thinking of this, Ye Junze shook his head, muttering to himself, “How could that be? No one would believe such a thing, much less expect it to happen to me as Meng Yuan suggests.” Still, he found himself hoping that Meng Yuan’s words would come true, comforting himself with this contradiction. Fortunately, Meng Yuan could not read his thoughts; if he could, he would surely have scolded him for daydreaming.

Having had his doubts addressed, Ye Junze began to reflect on the night’s events: first, he was inexplicably tasked with restoring the small cauldron; then he witnessed a battle lost in the mists of time, learned of a supremely powerful cultivator, and gained some understanding of the cauldron’s glorious past. Yet the more he dwelled on the cauldron’s former might, the more sorrowful he felt at its current state. The task of restoring it now seemed an overwhelming burden.

Shaking his head, Ye Junze realized there was no point in thinking about it further. He ought to devote himself to cultivation. If only one day he could be as powerful as the man in those visions—such thoughts rekindled his desire to train.

“Well, I won’t dwell on these worries any longer. I’m going to cultivate now,” Ye Junze declared.

“All right,” Meng Yuan’s voice came from the air. Only then did Ye Junze settle his mind, sit cross-legged, and assume the posture for cultivation, beginning his training in earnest.