Chapter 42: Three Mountains Talisman Dao! The Most Fierce Under Heaven

Jiangnan Province, Maoshan.

One of the Ten Famous Daoist Mountains of the world, a 5A-level tourist attraction, admission fee one hundred and eighty.

Deep in the mountains, pines and cypresses conceal; slender vines twist around ancient trees; rare birds cry nearby; clear springs whisper softly. Terraced valleys are draped in orchids and sweet flag; every steep cliff is covered in moss and lichen. Rolling peaks harbor fine dragon veins—surely, a lofty immortal hides here in silence.

Before an ancient, rustic Daoist temple, incense smoke curled upward; an old Daoist priest, his hair and beard entirely white, wore simple cloth robes and straw sandals, leaning on a broom, hunched over as he swept the ground.

“Master, you called me?”

At that moment, a young Daoist-looking boy walked up from afar; upon reaching close, he bowed respectfully to the old priest.

The old priest kept sweeping, as if he had not heard.

“Master…” The boy paused, spoke again softly—still no response.

The old priest gripped the broom, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the ground, deaf to all around, as if sensing not a single thing in his surroundings.

After a while, the old priest finished sweeping, then raised his head.

“Xiao Qiji, you’ve come.”

Speaking, the old priest set down the broom, walked to the stone steps, and sat down slowly.

“Master, what were you just doing?” Qiji asked, his expression strange.

“Cultivation.” The old priest replied casually.

“Cultivation? Sweeping the ground is cultivation too?” Qiji could not help but look puzzled.

“Walking, standing, sitting, lying—all are cultivation… climbing the mountain is cultivation, chopping firewood is cultivation, sweeping the ground is cultivation too… as long as your mind is fully present, everywhere is cultivation…”

The old priest lowered his gray eyebrows, his face filled with sorrow for the world.

“Pity… modern people are too deeply poisoned by the mortal world…”

“Climbing the mountain is just climbing the mountain; sweeping the ground is just sweeping the ground. When you sweep, you think of climbing; when you eat, you think of work—your thoughts scatter, your spirit constantly leaks out, draining your essence, energy, and spirit without pause…”

Here, the old priest looked at Qiji: “Those who cultivate the Dao must avoid scattered delusions; always turn inward, and you shall attain freedom.”

“Disciple remembers.” Qiji clasped his hands, bowed, etching every word of the old priest into his heart.

“Xiao Qiji, you’ve cultivated in these mountains since childhood—it’s time you went out and saw the world.” The old priest suddenly changed the subject.

“Master wants me to descend the mountain?” Qiji was startled.

Daoist cultivators most dread contamination by the mortal world; especially heirs of famous mountains rarely walk among common folk.

“The mortal world refines the heart; entering the world is also cultivation…”

The old priest paused, then continued: “Our Maoshan Shangqing’s talisman arts are famed throughout the world…”

“But you should know: talisman arts have three schools; since the Song Dynasty, all talisman arts under heaven have merged into Zhengyi…”

Talismans hold an extremely important place in Daoist magical arts, being one of the Daoist priest’s key tools.

If incantations are the Daoist’s language for communicating with spirits and gods, then talismans are their written characters—their origins trace back even to ancient times.

Legend says over four thousand five hundred years ago, Cangjie created characters by observing the patterns of heaven and earth, studying yin-yang transformations, linking the void spiritual realm, and receiving twenty-eight primordial sacred glyphs. From these, he fashioned the first written symbols of civilization, shaped after bird and beast tracks and mountain-river topography.

On the day characters were completed, the mountains and rivers stirred with qi, seas and rivers surged, birds and beasts cried together, and a hundred ghosts wailed through the night.

The great shamans of humanity grasped their true meaning, carved the pure yang glyphs onto peach wood, and named them talismans.

Two thousand five hundred years ago, during the Contention of a Hundred Schools, shamanic culture gradually faded, merging into Daoism—until, in the Eastern Han Dynasty, the Patriarch Zhang Daoling of the Celestial Masters received enlightenment from Laozi on Crane Cry Mountain, founded the Zhengyi Mengwei Dao, and composed the first talisman texts, thus beginning the talisman arts.

The Celestial Masters once said: Our talismans can move heaven and earth, shake mountains and rivers, command dragons and tigers in daylight, subdue ghosts and spirits in darkness, revive dead bones, and liberate one from life and death.

From then on, the talisman arts swept the world, shining brilliantly.

Today, only three orthodox schools of talisman arts remain: [Maoshan Shangqing], [Longhu Tian Shi], and [Gezao Lingbao].

“Eighty years ago, during the Grand Ritual of Heaven, the Daoist calamity struck—Longhu Mountain sealed its gates ever since, leaving only incense smoke to rise again…”

“But I’ve heard this generation of Gezao Mountain has produced many promising disciples…” the old priest sighed softly.

“Besides them, Xia Weisheng of Zhenwu Mountain, An Wuyang of Zhongnan Mountain, Qi Delong and Qi Dongqiang, the two brothers of Laojun Mountain… all have long been renowned.”

“These promising disciples have all already entered the world for trials.”

“Xia Weisheng!?” Qiji’s gaze sharpened; three years ago, he had accompanied his sect elders to visit Zhenwu Mountain and met this senior sister—truly outstanding, surpassing even men.

Especially her Five Thunder Orthodoxy—she had considerable mastery.

“Zhenwu’s transmission is seventy-three, and after the mortal calamity, descendants shall participate…” Master, I heard Zhenwu Mountain recently held its Jade Register ordination—why was there no commotion?”

Qiji could not help but say: “The outside world says this generation of Zhenwu Mountain faces a great calamity—perhaps they won’t survive it.”

“That’s an arcane saying left by Zhenwu’s founding patriarch… if it comes true, it won’t be a good thing.”

The old priest shook his head, a glint of sharpness flickering in his cloudy eyes.

“Chu Chaoran has reached Pure Yang Wuji—yet even he couldn’t withstand this calamity. It may not just affect Zhenwu Mountain…”

The old priest’s face trembled slightly, worry slowly spreading across it.

“It might be another great Daoist calamity!”

“Master…” Qiji’s heart stirred, about to speak.

“We’ve strayed too far.”

The old priest waved his hand: “This time you descend, first go to Yujing City…”

“Yujing City?”

“Yesterday, word came from there—Yinshan Sect’s people are truly lawless; last night they committed violence in the marketplace, harvesting yin to cultivate their arts!” the old priest said grimly.

“Yinshan Sect? Did they arrest him?” Qiji asked, unable to help himself. Daoist cultivators, once they gain cultivation, strictly avoid using magic among mortals.

“Gu Yuming of Yinshan Sect is now a vegetable, lying in a hospital… he’s already been detained…” the old priest sighed.

“Those who do too much evil bring ruin upon themselves—he dared this, so he suffered heavenly retribution…”

“The key is, when he harvested yin to cultivate, a righteous man intervened—not only skilled in Taiyi’s Soul-Transcending Art, but also familiar with some Bei Di Art, though not yet mastered.”

“Bei Di Art!?”

Qiji’s third eye twitched; though long secluded in the mountains, he had heard of the infamous reputation of Bei Di Art—the so-called number-one killing art of the Daoist world, vanished from the world since the great calamity eighty years ago.

“When you descend, pay attention—should you find this man, investigate his origins. If possible, bring him back to the mountain.” The old priest instructed.

The magical duel in Yujing City was settled; the main culprit, Gu Yuming, had received his retribution and become a vegetable—unlikely to ever awaken again.

The only one to watch for was the man bearing [Bei Di Art].

“Disciple remembers!” Qiji nodded.

Boom…

At that moment, a thunderous explosion erupted from deep within the mountain, accompanied by a plume of dust rising into the sky.

The old priest’s gray eyebrows lifted; he turned toward the direction of the blast and sighed deeply.

“Your uncle has relapsed again!”

Daoist cultivators pursue Pure Yang Wuji—either they go mad, die, or are crippled… it’s normal; every mountain and palace has a few lunatics.

“Master, how did Uncle get these injuries?” Qiji could not help asking.

He had met this uncle a few times—he was immensely powerful, his cultivation astonishing, yet his state was like that of a mad beast; when he relapsed, he was nearly impossible to restrain.

“He suffered injuries long ago in a magical duel…” the old priest sighed.

“Who could have injured Uncle?” Qiji pressed.

His uncle’s talent was among the very best in the entire Maoshan Shangqing Sect; even as a youth, he was the pride of the mountain, renowned across the Ten Famous Daoist Mountains.

“Divine Demon Holy Embryo!” the old priest whispered, uttering four words.

“The most formidable art under heaven?” Qiji’s face changed.

If Bei Di Art still had some surviving practitioners, [Divine Demon Holy Embryo] could only be glimpsed in legends.

“Is there truly someone who has mastered this art?”

“More than twenty years ago, a young man mastered this art…” the old priest said with absolute certainty.

“If he’s still alive, he should be over forty now.”

Here, the old priest paused, his aged face showing a trace of reminiscence.

“Divine Demon Holy Embryo—the most formidable art under heaven… your uncle was defeated by this man…”

“Just one strike… even now, thinking of it sends chills down my spine!”

As he spoke, the old priest slowly closed his eyes, as if unwilling to recall this past.

“Master, what makes the Divine Demon Holy Embryo so terrifying?” Qiji pressed.

He had never imagined his own senior had once faced such a legendary force—it was truly shocking.

“They harvest thoughts as medicine; their spiritual core is so powerful it’s unimaginable…” the old priest said gravely.

In his view, the Divine Demon Holy Embryo was no ordinary internal elixir method—it wasn’t even meant for human cultivation.

“Precisely because their spiritual core is so immensely powerful, they master any technique effortlessly, advancing with terrifying speed and intensity…”

Back then, that young man bearing the [Divine Demon Holy Embryo] possessed countless techniques—his arsenal was enough to make one’s heart race with fear.

“But practicing this art has one grave drawback…”

“What?”

“They must endure the Great Night Without Light!” the old priest said gravely.

The Great Night Without Light is a Daoist cultivator’s nightmare—but for those who practice the [Divine Demon Holy Embryo], it is an inevitable trial.

“Those who practice the [Divine Demon Holy Embryo] and fall into the Great Night Without Light are said to have undergone the trial… this is their unique cultivation method; once they transcend it, their cultivation advances…”

“I’ve heard that since ancient times, those who practiced this art have transcended the trial at most nine times.” The old priest said gravely.

“What level of cultivation is that?” Qiji’s heart stirred, asking instinctively.

“Beyond Pure Yang Wuji, beyond the Three-Five Transformations—that’s the realm of Earthly Immortals!”

The old priest sighed softly, slowly opening his eyes: “That young man back then had already transcended the trial three times—his cultivation was unfathomable.”

“Falling into the Great Night Without Light… and still transcending it?” Qiji murmured softly.

He was a Daoist, so he alone understood the terror of the Great Night Unlit.

Once one falls into it, the Nascent Soul falls into stillness, as if heaven and earth were plunged into darkness, with no hope of emergence ever again.

“Some cultivators refine the Divine Demon Holy Embryo and enter the Great Night Unlit calamity; their Nascent Souls suffer grave damage, and may never awaken for the rest of their lives…”

“Must one inevitably fall into such a calamity?” Qi Ji asked involuntarily.

“Once you begin this cultivation method, there is no turning back. The lucky ones forget everything and become ordinary people; the unlucky ones die and lose their Dao, which is commonplace,” said the old Daoist, his voice hollow.

“What if one awakens?” Qi Ji asked offhandedly.

The old Daoist paused slightly, then looked at Qi Ji and said gravely: “Then he becomes the most monstrous being under heaven!”

(End of Chapter)