Chapter 3: Mortal Mayflies, Seventy-Third Generation

From Nanxuan Palace to the Golden Summit, the entire stretch is mountain path, accessible only by foot.

“Now I finally understand… why… why ‘The Daoist Descends the Mountain’ had to be made into a movie…”

Zhang Fan leaned on his hiking pole, gasping for breath, his clothes long soaked in sweat.

“Why… why?” Li Yishan asked mechanically.

“For a Daoist… to descend a mountain… is too hard…” Zhang Fan looked up at the endless staircase, feeling dizzy and faint.

“Are you still upset now?” Li Yishan asked.

“Now I finally understand why people with bad moods always come to climb mountains for pilgrimage…”

“Why?”

“Oxygen deprivation— who the hell has time to think about those annoying things?” Zhang Fan bent over, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“No wonder this is a famed Daoist mountain—I’ve already gained enlightenment before even reaching the summit.”

At that moment, Li Yishan suddenly stopped, staring at the mountain peak, his face filled with sudden enlightenment.

“What did you realize?” Zhang Fan panted, tilting his head up to gaze at Li Yishan’s suddenly towering figure.

“Do you remember that girl raised by the grandpa in our department?” Li Yishan asked in return.

“Raised by a grandpa? Who? What do you mean?”

“… ”

“Oh… Xiong Zhenxiao? What about her?” Zhang Fan’s mind conjured a consistent figure.

“Last month, when she returned to campus, she wore a particularly exquisite and beautiful brooch… We’d already graduated, so I just wanted to compliment her… I casually said, ‘Nice brooch.’”

“Who knew she said nothing, just slapped me right across the face…” Li Yishan touched his cheek, as if it still burned.

“I’d die trying to figure out why she slapped me…”

Here, Li Yishan turned back, a hint of delight in his voice: “Just now, I suddenly understood… it was because she…”

“Get your ass moving up this mountain—do you really need to ‘enlighten’ yourself over something like this?!” Zhang Fan took a deep breath, gripped his hiking pole, and launched his final sprint.

“Wait… wait for me… what are you rushing for?!” Li Yishan panted, shouting from behind.

Three and a half hours later, the two were exhausted like dogs, finally reaching the Golden Summit of Zhenwu Mountain.

“Let’s check in first—I went through a lot of trouble to secure this room.” Li Yishan gasped.

Overnight stays are permitted on Zhenwu Mountain, but most people can only lodge at the guesthouses near Nanxuan Palace; the Golden Summit has only one hotel, and after five p.m., tourists must take the cable car down.

“Once the area is cleared, we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

Speaking, Li Yishan followed the map and arrived at the hotel on the summit—Yingbin Tower.

A single twin room cost 1,800 per night.

“Check us in.”

At the front desk, Zhang Fan and Li Yishan placed their ID cards on the counter.

“Wasn’t it said no outsiders are allowed in?”

At that moment, a cold voice came from behind.

Zhang Fan turned and saw a young man approaching—about his own age, tall and thin, wearing sportswear, his narrowed eyes radiating annoyance.

“What outsiders? We booked a room.” Li Yishan immediately bristled.

“Mr. Gan, these two had already reserved their rooms before you cleared the place out—we couldn’t very well…”

The front desk manager rubbed his hands, bowing apologetically.

“Let them check in. No one else gets in.”

At that moment, a young man with gold-rimmed glasses approached; though on the mountain, he wore a crisp suit, appearing strangely out of place. “Big Brother…” The sportswear youth glared at Zhang Fan and Li Yishan, about to speak.

“Enough. Why bother with ordinary people?” The gold-rimmed glasses man raised his hand to stop him.

“Who’s ordinary? Does having money make you superior? Can you do whatever you want just because you’re rich?” Li Yishan could no longer hold back his anger.

“Sorry. Having money really does let you do whatever you want.”

The gold-rimmed glasses man adjusted his glasses, spoke casually, didn’t even glance at Zhang Fan and Li Yishan, and turned to leave.

“Be grateful.”

The sportswear youth sneered softly, hands in pockets, strolling lazily after the gold-rimmed glasses man.

“Manager, who are those two? Their attitude’s worse than their foot odor.” Zhang Fan watched their retreating backs and couldn’t help asking.

“Keep your voice down—they’re big clients. They’ve booked every single room here, yet no one’s come to stay… weird as hell.” The manager lowered his voice.

“Show-offs.” Li Yishan spat.

“Gentlemen, your room is 2013—left side…”

The manager pointed out the direction.

…

At this moment, in Room 3027.

“Big Brother, you were too polite just now…” Gan Shaokun had already shed his sportswear upon entering, revealing a muscular physique, and flopped onto the bed.

“Ordinary mortals are like mayflies—born in the morning, dead by night, unaware of spring and autumn… why bother with them?”

Gan Shengwu spoke softly, gazing into the mirror as he removed his glasses; in the reflection, his pupils suddenly shifted, like worms crawling, then instantly returned to normal.

“Don’t forget why we’re here.”

“Big Brother, what’s going on with Zhenwu Mountain? Such a major event as the Jade Register Transmission didn’t invite any observers?”

Gan Shaokun lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, puzzled.

The Jade Register Transmission is no trivial matter—it is the transmission of Daoist lineage and proof of authority to subdue demons and quell evil, tied to the rise or fall of this lineage.

In the past, such pivotal events concerning lineage succession were always announced to the world, inviting esteemed masters to witness.

But this time… Zhenwu Mountain remained utterly silent, even secretive…

“Because this time is different,” Gan Shengwu said calmly.

“Different how?” Gan Shaokun looked puzzled.

“Zhenwu Mountain is one of the Ten Great Daoist Mountains. When Zhenwu attained Dao here, he left behind a verse predicting the lineage’s succession…”

Gan Shengwu sat down slowly, picked up a white porcelain teapot, and brewed a cup of tea; steam rose, filling the air with fragrance.

“What verse?” Gan Shaokun sat up, curious.

Gan Shengwu adjusted his glasses, set down his teacup, and spoke softly.

“Not cut off, not extinguished—on the seventy-third generation, there will be a pause…”

“Seventy-third generation… a pause?!” Gan Shaokun chewed the words, his expression deep in thought.

“Counting from the beginning, Zhenwu Mountain has now reached its seventy-third generation,” Gan Shengwu said, his gaze faintly sharpening.

“You mean…”

“Zhenwu Mountain… this generation will have its lineage severed?!”

A startled cry erupted in the room; shock slowly spread across Gan Shaokun’s face.

(End of Chapter)