Volume One: First Steps into the Immortal Realm Chapter Ten: All Warriors Under Heaven Are Judged by Their Character; Entering the World as a Hero, Transcending It as an Immortal

The tense standoff among the four was abruptly interrupted by a shout. All eyes turned in unison toward the entrance of the inn.

“Why are you forcefully abducting a priest in broad daylight? Is there no law left in this land?” A burly man with a fierce look, clad in the uniform of a constable, strode inside. Behind him trailed a dozen or so ruffians wielding sticks.

“And who might you be? Is it a crime now to simply have a meal?” Chu Mingxuan replied coolly.

The group that had stormed in paused in confusion at the scene before them. This was hardly a kidnapping—everyone was still seated, sharing a meal. They exchanged uncertain glances before focusing their attention on their leader.

“Damn it, who the hell filed a false report? Let’s go, brothers, disperse,” the fierce-looking man grumbled. Without hesitation, he turned to leave, the others quickly following suit.

The four at the table were left momentarily at a loss. Chu Mingxuan, who had been ready to slam the table in indignation, found himself robbed of the moment as their would-be accusers simply walked away.

Order restored, the group returned to their prior state of wary conversation.

“Young priest, how long has it been since you descended the mountain?” It was the Demon Sword Immortal who finally broke the silence.

Fu Ming looked at him, set down his goose leg, and replied, “To answer the elder, I have been away from the mountain for less than a month.”

“Young priest, Old Xie just said you’re from Mount Azurecloud, is that so? I’ve heard it’s one of the four great Daoist sanctuaries,” Chu Mingxuan pressed, eyeing the youth.

“He’s not only from Mount Azurecloud—he’s also a direct disciple of the Daoist Sage Qingyun. Isn’t that right, little Priest Fu Ming?” the Demon Sword Immortal said with a hint of amusement.

Fu Ming started in surprise. “Elder, how did you know?”

The Demon Sword Immortal laughed heartily, “The Daoist Sage Taiping is truly audacious, letting you travel the world without so much as a disguise. Aren’t they afraid those people will kill you?”

He paused, then frowned. “Or perhaps the Sage left some safeguard upon you? If so, that would make sense.”

Chu Mingxuan and the chubby boy, listening to this exchange, were completely lost.

“Old Xie, you mentioned the Daoist Sage Taiping—are there truly immortals in this world?” Chu Mingxuan asked, his voice hesitant.

The Demon Sword Immortal regarded him and replied, “The existence of Daoist immortals is a well-known truth in our world. Whether it’s Li Taibai, hailed as the greatest swordsman of the South, or Dugu Xin, the Gun God of a Hundred Miles, neither has yet reached the realm of immortality.”

Chu Mingxuan was shaken by these words. In all his years as a playboy in Liangzhou, he was hardly ignorant. Li Taibai was universally acknowledged as the foremost swordsman, with legends claiming he once cleaved a river with a single stroke—what unimaginable power. And then there was Dugu Xin, the Gun God, who had once faced an army of a hundred thousand from Qin alone, unflinching, singing boldly: “Three thousand paths, each with its glory; atop the spear’s summit, I alone reign supreme.” After his words, he unleashed a strike that, from a mile away, pierced two hundred and fifty suits of armor, nailing the enemy general to the great banner.

Yet even such figures fell short of immortality. What, then, was the level of the Daoist immortals?

The chubby boy looked at the Demon Sword Immortal and asked, “Elder, I’ve read many books, and they all say there’s only one immortal left in the world—the one atop Mount Azurecloud.”

“Don’t believe everything you read,” the Demon Sword Immortal replied calmly. “This world is vast—how could there be only one immortal? Some truths remain hidden until you reach a certain height.”

He turned again to Fu Ming, “Little Priest, is your master, the Daoist Sage Taiping, well these days?”

Fu Ming had been listening closely. Li Taibai and Dugu Xin he knew well; after all, on Mount Azurecloud, if there was one thing in abundance, it was books. In ten years, he’d read more than he could count. He answered, “My master is well—he eats and sleeps heartily. Thank you for your concern, elder.”

The Demon Sword Immortal nodded, asking no more.

Chu Mingxuan spoke again, “Old Xie, I’ve been reading too, and I know that the path of immortality is divided into several realms, but none are actually called ‘immortal,’ are they?”

“Martial artists are ranked from ninth to first grade; above that is True Essence, which is the true threshold of the immortal path. Beyond that are the realms of the Violet Palace, Celestial Phenomena, and Divine Wandering. Beyond Divine Wandering, there are no further ranks—so it’s true, in a sense, that there are no immortals,” the Demon Sword Immortal explained.

“Then why did you say there are immortals?” the chubby boy pressed.

The Demon Sword Immortal took another sip, smacked his lips, and replied, “Because long ago, there truly were mighty cultivators who broke free from this world—ascended as immortals. That’s why the theory exists. But for the past three hundred years, none have succeeded, so the books no longer mention it.”

“And now, what of immortals?” Chu Mingxuan asked.

“Those who surpass Divine Wandering, nothing more,” the Demon Sword Immortal said lightly.

After listening, Chu Mingxuan said to the chubby boy, “So it’s just immortality? Let’s go see it for ourselves.”

He thought a moment, then added, glancing at Fu Ming, “And you’ll come with us.”

The Demon Sword Immortal chuckled to himself, “To enter the world is to be a hero; to transcend it is to become an immortal.”

Having finished their meal, the group set off again—now with a young priest among them. According to the young lord, “You laughed at me; our account isn’t settled, so you can’t leave yet.”

In the reception hall of the General’s Manor in Youzhou, Mu Yang sat sipping tea. After a quiet sip, he mused aloud, “Their sincerity is commendable. Let us discuss cooperation, then.” A slight smile played on his lips.

“Ha! Young Master Mu, what brings you to my humble manor with such leisure?” Mu Yunge entered, laughing heartily.

Mu Yang rose to greet him. “Since our last meeting, I have admired your command more with each passing day, General. I hope my visit is not an imposition.”

Mu Yunge seated himself with a smile. “Please, Young Master Mu, sit. Since our last parting, I too have envied your talents. I thought I’d never see you again in this lifetime, yet here you are.”

The two exchanged pleasantries with such warmth that anyone unaware might have thought them old friends, though both knew well enough the other was a wily fox. Still, they kept up the facade.

“What, may I ask, brings you here?” Mu Yunge finally dropped the pretense.

Any more courtesy and he feared he’d choke on it.

“I have come to give you an answer,” Mu Yang replied with a smile.

“Oh?” Mu Yunge raised an eyebrow.

“I have personally consulted our immortal ancestor. The reply was clear: as long as you are willing to cooperate with the Pavilion of Playful Heavens, you shall be assured the title of the world’s foremost,” Mu Yang said, gently waving his fan.

Mu Yunge didn’t answer at once. He simply took a sip of tea, letting silence settle over the room. Mu Yang waited, smiling, fan in hand.

After a long pause, Mu Yunge looked up. “Can you speak for the Pavilion of Playful Heavens?”

Mu Yang snapped his folding fan shut. “This time, I speak with full authority. Any condition you have for the Pavilion, bring it to me!”

Mu Yunge hesitated, then gritted his teeth and said, “I can cooperate with you, but you must keep your word.”

Mu Yang laughed heartily. “Indeed, General, you are a man of decisiveness. From now on, we are family.”

“What do you require of me?” Mu Yunge asked.

...

On Mount Azurecloud, one could make out Daoist cultivators on both the slopes and the summit, shrouded in mist—a place rightly called the abode of immortals.

Today, several guests had come to visit the Sage Taiping. Once inside the sage’s chamber, they remained for hours, with no sign of emerging.

Little Priest Ping’an sat outside, book in hand, glancing now and then toward the distant chamber, growing restless. Never before had his master spent so long in conversation.

Since his second senior brother left the mountain, life here had grown duller still. When he asked his master when his brother would return, the answer was always, “When the time comes, he will return.”

Inside the chamber, six people sat with the Sage Taiping. Two played chess, one watched, another conversed with the sage.

“Sage, what should we do now?” asked the one speaking with the sage.

Sage Taiping closed his book and replied, “We made our intentions clear from the start. Now that all sides have entered the world, it’s only natural that their emissaries move as well. Some will falter and be swayed—this was always expected.”

“We have gathered much evidence. Should we move directly against them? If you act, Sage, none in the Jianghu of Fengyang can match you,” said the chess observer.

“The Jianghu is a chessboard, its people the pieces. What matters is who holds the pieces. The ones entering the world now are the players; you are merely an observer. Shouldn’t you remember—an observer must not speak?” Sage Taiping replied quietly.

“You are right, Sage. My cultivation is lacking,” the observer said, bowing.

“Sage, there is one more question,” said one of the chess players.

Sage Taiping set down his book and stood. “If you already suspect, why ask?”

“We have learned something, but not all. Is there a way to reopen the Gate of Heaven? Back then, Master Taibai ascended successfully—did he leave anything behind?” the chess player inquired.

“Since you have come and spoken with me so long, I assume this is your last question. The Gate of Heaven is closed; this is fact. The Daoist sect has no means to reopen it, and Master Taibai left nothing behind. I fear you will be disappointed,” Sage Taiping replied, pacing.

Outside, Little Priest Ping’an pretended to read, but his heart wasn’t in it. Suddenly, he saw his master’s door open. Delighted, he closed his book and ran over.

“Master! Why did you talk so long? I’ve been waiting forever!” he called out even before he reached them.

Sage Taiping smiled and said, “Your master was discussing important matters. Have you not been studying today, Little Ping’an?”

Ping’an tugged at his master’s robe, replying, “I was too worried about you to focus on my reading.”

Only then did he notice that though five had entered to see his master, only four emerged.