Chapter 438

The long night stretches endlessly, clouds surging like waves.

Mount Luyin, Five Elders Peak.

A waterfall hanging from the heavens resembles a white ribbon, descending from the sky to earth, its splashing spray like pearls scattered upon the deep emerald pool.

“How can we forget old friends? How can our hearts not recall them?”

“Old friends, how could we ever forget? Friendship lasts forever.”

…

Amid the crashing waves, a melodious tune echoed, reverberating across Five Elders Peak and sinking into the silent, endless night.

At the peak’s summit, a slender figure stood alone, clad in white robes, her demeanor pure and icy as jade, no more than thirty, unadorned yet radiating unmatched beauty; beneath the bright moon, she seemed a celestial immortal descended to earth, gazing at the roiling sea of clouds, her ethereal gaze drifting far, far away.

“We too once endured hardship, wandering day and night.”

“Long live friendship, long live the bond of friends.”

“Raise our cups, drink together, sing in unison.”

“Long live friendship, friendship lasts forever.”

…

In the slender figure’s hand lay a portable cassette player, common in the last century, its tape slowly turning, releasing the melodious music.

“Sister Xiangling is alone again over there.”

Far off, a young girl in a Daoist robe stared fixedly at the slender figure atop Five Elders Peak.

“Sister, I heard Sister Xiangling is waiting for someone.”

As she spoke, the girl turned to look at Zhuang Yumian.

“Who told you that?”

“All the senior disciples in the sect say so in private,” the girl whispered.

“You never focus on your cultivation—why are you so fond of gossip?”

Zhuang Yumian turned, flicking the girl’s forehead.

“Please, Sister, that really hurts!”

“Please, He Zhiyu, can you stop speaking like such a brat?” Zhuang Yumian said coolly.

…

He Zhiyu pouted but kept her gaze fixed on the distant figure.

“Sister, who is Sister Xiangling waiting for?”

“I don’t know.”

Zhuang Yumian shook her head, her gaze sharpening slightly.

On the day she joined the sect, she had often seen that slender figure standing alone through the long night, listening to the same song over and over.

That portable player seemed an object of great importance.

“When one meets someone dazzling in youth, they are bound to be trapped by them for life,” Zhuang Yumian suddenly mused.

Su Xiangling was the most gifted disciple Mount Luyin had produced in a hundred years.

She had been stuck for years beyond the Observer Realm; had it not been for that one stubborn attachment, she might long ago have shattered through to the Tianshi Realm and realized the ultimate mystery of the Dao.

“So Sister Xiangling is truly bound by love?” He Zhiyu’s eyes lit up.

Zhuang Yumian shot her a sharp glance from the corner of her eye.

“If heaven had feelings, heaven would grow old; mortals must feel to cultivate,” Zhuang Yumian murmured softly.

“Sister, I don’t understand—if one feels, won’t desire and delusion become obstacles to cultivation?” He Zhiyu asked, puzzled.

“Desire and emotion are manifestations of the Great Dao’s function, like images reflected in a mirror.”

“Cultivation means using the false to cultivate the true, seeing delusion as truth, using those reflected images to perceive the boundless, empty mirror,” Zhuang Yumian murmured softly.

“To feel is to awaken; go one step further, and you reach the Supreme Detachment—close to the Dao.”

Zhuang Yumian’s words plunged He Zhiyu into thought.

It was like how more thoughts actually aid cultivation—the best moment to subdue the conscious mind.

Desire and delusion are illusory; seeing delusion as illusion, Supreme Detachment means delusion is truth.

Affliction is Bodhi.

Illusion is the Whole Truth.

“Doesn’t Sister Xiangling know this?” He Zhiyu couldn’t help asking.

“Of course she knows,” Zhuang Yumian sighed.

“But the truth of this world is easy to know, hard to practice—knowing is one thing, doing is another.”

“Supreme Detachment, the Dao of Whole Truth… How many in history have ever grasped this level?”

Zhuang Yumian gazed at the solitary figure atop Five Elders Peak, her eyes growing distant.

She was at the height of her brilliance, yet had not yet felt the lethal power of “emotion,” nor met anyone who had dazzled her.

“What kind of person could make Sister Xiangling, someone like her, yearn so deeply, turn over and over in her heart?” He Zhiyu wondered.

“I don’t know,” Zhuang Yumian said, shaking her head.

“I only heard it was a chance encounter from her youth.”

“Back then, she was still in full bloom, and he, too, was young—he came from afar to the mountain seeking a sword!” Zhuang Yumian whispered.

“Seeking a sword?” He Zhiyu’s heart stirred, unable to help asking.

“Could it be…”

“Yes—it’s the ‘Three-Inch Spiritual Light’ in the Immortal Cave. He sought that sword,” Zhuang Yumian’s eyes gleamed with unusual light.

Within Mount Luyin lay an Immortal Cave, said to be where Lu Zu once secluded himself in profound cultivation before ascending to heaven.

Later, the sect’s founder discovered within the cave a perpetual cloud of mist and radiant light, strange and unchanging, and erected an altar to worship and refine it with incense.

Over centuries, the mist and light transformed, condensing into essence, sharpening into blade-like radiance, and the sect’s ancestors deemed it a rare treasure, naming it the Three-Inch Spiritual Light.

“That’s our sect’s treasure!” He Zhiyu’s expression changed.

She had heard of its fame since joining—fickle as wind, formless as cloud, its edge like a sword, its radiance boundless.

She had trained for years without ever seeing it—never imagining it was no longer in Mount Luyin.

“Who was he, that he could take away this treasure!?” He Zhiyu grew even more curious.

To take the Three-Inch Spiritual Light—and to make young Su Xiangling fall for him at first sight, dooming her for life—he must have been extraordinary, of immense lineage.

“I don’t know,” Zhuang Yumian whispered, shaking her head. “Later, he came to Mount Luyin many times, cultivating the Three-Inch Spiritual Light.”

“Those past events are many years gone.”

Huh…

Mountain winds howled, the sea of clouds swayed.

On Five Elders Peak, Su Xiangling’s robes fluttered; amid the melodious song, her gaze slowly blurred.

Past images flickered before her eyes—she seemed to see again that young man, before the Immortal Cave, leaping and swinging his sword in flight.

“Ten thousand miles, demon-slaying lightning coils, a white dragon soars through the sky. Once I held this sword to slay demons; now I give it to you to sever your troubles.”

“Long ago, Lu Zu met the Fire Dragon Immortal here and received the inner alchemy and flying sword techniques of Discharge Fire.”

“Azong, your Three-Inch Spiritual Light dance has grown even more beautiful.”

“Xiangling, this will be my last time coming to Mount Luyin.”

“You’re leaving?” the girl cried urgently.

“I got a letter from home—my elder brother had a son. I must go see him.”

“You’re so young—you’re already an uncle?”

“Heh, my brother’s son is no ordinary child. Grandpa said he’s already named him Zhang Sheng—I must hurry back to take a look.”

“Will you come back?”

“I probably will… Oh, I’ll leave this player with you. The mountain’s boring—listen to it when you’re idle.”

Past images scattered like clouds before her eyes.

Who could have imagined that parting would change their lives forever?

No one imagined that his return home would bring ruin—his family destroyed, the great calamity of the Zhang clan!

“Azong…”

On Five Elders Peak, the bright moonlight spilled down, casting the slender figure in even softer, lonelier beauty.