Chapter 96: The Mountains No Longer See Zhang, the Dao No Longer See Li! Eleven Years Ago

Yujing City, Confucius Temple.

A Level-5 national scenic area, it is also one of Yujing City’s most famous attractions; local cultural tourism doesn’t even need to advertise, yet it receives tens of millions of visitors annually.

“One Jiangnan imperial examination hall, one ten-li gilded river—enough to capture all the elegance of Jiangnan.”

Zhang Fan and his group arrived at the Confucius Temple and couldn’t help but sigh.

The land of six dynasties’ golden powder, where scholars in blue robes vied for grace; on the gilded river, painted boats and grand vessels once carried countless tales of talented scholars and beautiful maidens, of princes and generals.

As for the Jiangnan Imperial Examination Hall, it alone held half the literary fortune of the realm; most of the empire’s talented scholars came from Jiangsu and Zhejiang.

Even today, before every middle school and college entrance exam, parents bring their children here to burn incense and pray.

Zhang Fan vaguely remembered his parents bringing him here as a child, but his memory was flawed—his mother’s image grew ever more hazy.

“I lived nearby as a child. I remember one year there was a particularly severe fire,” Xiong Ba murmured softly.

Logically, such a major fire in a scenic area would be a huge incident—surely the authorities would have cracked down hard.

“I think I remember something too…” Zhang Fan frowned, a flash of fire suddenly appearing in his mind.

“When was that?”

“About eleven or twelve years ago,” Xiong Ba paused, then admitted he couldn’t quite recall.

Eleven or twelve years ago, Zhang Fan had not yet suffered his transformation; his Yuan Shen had not entered Great Night Unlit; his mother was still alive.

“Let’s go. Ahead is Wuyi Alley,” Xiong Qianqiu interrupted their chatter, urging them on.

It was summer vacation, peak tourist season; the crowds never ceased, and she was already feeling stifled.

“Wuyi Alley…”

Everyone had memorized Liu Yuxi’s poem [Wuyi Alley] as a child…

Wild grass and flowers by Zhuque Bridge, the setting sun slants over Wuyi Alley. The swallows once flew before the halls of Wang and Xie—now they enter commoners’ homes.

Yet few knew Wuyi Alley was hidden right here within the Confucius Temple.

“Does the Wang family still have a residence here?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

In a scenic area like the Confucius Temple, owning such a quiet courtyard amid the bustle, balancing movement and stillness, yin and yang—it wasn’t just a matter of money.

“They own nearly half the surrounding properties,” Xiong Qianqiu said casually.

“That’s insane,” Zhang Fan said, his expression turning strange.

Others cultivate the Dao; so do I. They cultivate wealth beyond measure; I cultivate jingling coins.

The Dao is unjust—how terrifying!

“Let’s go.”

Xiong Qianqiu forced his way through the crowd, leading ahead.

Let's be honest, in a 5A-rated scenic spot during peak tourist season, faced with such a massive crowd, even the Pure Yang Immortal would have his soul squeezed out.

……

Inside Wuyi Alley.

In an ancient, serene courtyard, parasol trees spread wide, casting dense green shade.

Three young people sat leisurely in the courtyard, brewing fresh tea over a small brazier.

Before them stood an incense burner; wisps of incense drifted with the breeze, turning summer sunlight into coolness.

This was [Frost Descends Incense], a rare incense within the Daoist sects.

Frost Descends is the final solar term of autumn; all things mature and enter Xu, yang retreats underground, yin begins to congeal. Cold weather begins with Frost Descends.

At this time, a layer of frost formed three feet underground in cellar storage is collected, blended with dozens of potent herbs, refined by ancient methods over three years to produce this [Frost Descends Incense].

In summer, burning this incense works better than air conditioning—it lowers room temperature and, when inhaled, dispels dampness, cold, and heat.

This luxury cannot be bought outside.

“The swallows once flew before the halls of Wang and Xie—now they enter commoners’ homes.”

At that moment, one of the young men spoke. On his wrist was a feather tattoo; his temples bulged, his gaze deep—clearly a master who had cultivated internal essence and strengthened sinews and bones, brimming with true yang.

“Xuanqing, why this sentiment?” asked the slightly older youth beside him.

Since the Six Dynasties, this had been a gathering place for noble clans, bustling with merchants and scholars, flourishing with Confucianism, famed as “Six Dynasties’ Golden Powder.”

This alley gained worldwide fame through Liu Yuxi’s poem [Wuyi Alley].

“Since ancient times, they say: of ten Daoists in the realm, nine bear the surname Zhang, one the surname Li…” Wang Xuanqing sneered.

“Too bad human effort cannot rival heavenly fate.”

“Times change. Now the mountains no longer see Zhang, the Dao no longer sees Li—the river surges, and it is our turn to rise.”

Wang Xuanqing wore a mocking smile, his gaze resting idly on the feather tattoo on his wrist.

“The mountains no longer see Zhang, the Dao no longer sees Li…” murmured Wang Xuansha beside him, nodding slowly.

“Each generation produces its own talents, each ruling the literary scene for centuries…”

“Eighty years ago, the Three Corpses Daoist claimed to be the realm’s greatest master—yet he perished atop Mount Dongyue. Master Chu’s fame shook the realm for sixty years.”

“Now he too is old, stagnant in True Martial, never emerging again…”

“The new generation’s tide is destined to sweep the realm,” Wang Xuansha said solemnly.

This was the law of history, the necessity of the Dao.

Even reaching the Pure Yang Ultimate realm could not grant immortality.

Immortality, immortality—how many brilliant minds in Daoist history had chased that elusive, vanished goal.

Yet Pure Yang was not the end; immortality remained as distant as ever.

Precisely because of this, generation after generation pressed forward, generation after generation of legends rose and fell.

“I heard last month the two brothers from Qi family on Laojun Mountain went to the capital and visited Bai He Guan.”

At that moment, the only woman among them spoke. Dressed in plain, loose robes, unadorned, yet her beauty could not be concealed.

“Qi Delong and Qi Dongqiang?” Wang Xuansha named the two.

“Yes,” Wang Xuanfei nodded.

Laojun Mountain was one of the Ten Great Daoist Sacred Mountains.

Qi Delong and Qi Dongqiang were the standout disciples of their generation; their fame rivaled An Wuyang of Zhongnan Mountain and Xia Weisheng of Zhenwu Mountain.

“They dared to provoke Bai He Guan?” Wang Xuanqing sneered.

Bai He Guan may not sit atop a famed mountain, but it lies within the capital. In ancient times, that meant beneath the Son of Heaven’s feet—the most esteemed land, profoundly significant.

“These brothers’ reputations aren’t without cause. I heard from my second uncle that they’re twins, born with a natural talent: their Yuan Shen merge into one.” Wang Xuansha said gravely.

“Merge Yuan Shen? Is that even possible?”

At once, Wang Xuanqing and Wang Xuanfei’s expressions changed.

Yuan Shen is innate, more intricate than the brain; adding or subtracting even a fraction has immense consequences—let alone merging two entirely different Yuan Shen. Even with the best luck, one would suffer mental chaos.

“It’s a rare gift, heaven’s blessing,” Wang Xuansha said solemnly.

Merged Yuan Shen, like white clouds holding up the sky—vast, boundless.

That pressure was incomparable to any ordinary cultivator’s Yuan Shen. Yuan Shen is the foundation of cultivation, the key to comprehending Pure Yang.

Ordinary cultivators, even those practicing the finest internal alchemy, have limits to how large their Yuan Shen can grow.

But the Qi brothers, with their merged Yuan Shen, achieved more than double—ordinary Daoists’ Yuan Shen shattered on contact.

Power overwhelms reason—this is how it is.

“What was the outcome?” Wang Xuanqing stroked the feather tattoo on his wrist, asking casually.

“They naturally showed off their might, defeating over a dozen young experts of Bai He Guan,” Wang Xuansha murmured gravely.

“In friendly combat, defeating over a dozen peers in succession—that’s slapping Bai He Guan’s face.”

Wang Xuanfei’s beautiful eyes narrowed: “Are these brothers really so arrogant?”

“Arrogance requires capital,” Wang Xuansha said coolly.

Clearly, Qi Delong and Qi Dongqiang possessed such capital—if they had no edge, how could they shine?

“How did it end? Did Bai He Guan’s elders intervene to crush their arrogance?” Wang Xuanqing asked eagerly.

More latest popular novels at /p>

“Not exactly.”

Wang Xuansha frowned slightly, uncertainly: “Bai He Guan has another young expert—he broke his seclusion and defeated those two brothers with just one move.”

“What? One move?”

At these words, both Wang Xuanqing and Wang Xuanfei’s faces changed.

The top disciple of Laojun Mountain’s generation, a monster with merged Yuan Shen, defeated in just one move!?

If it had been an elder from Bai He Guan, that would be understandable.

“Same generation!? Does Bai He Guan have another such expert among its youth?” Wang Xuanqing pressed.

“I don’t know… he’s always been unwell, constantly recovering from injuries; even many Bai He Guan disciples rarely see him.”

“Who exactly is he?”

“I only know his surname is Li,” Wang Xuansha said gravely.

“Li!?” Wang Xuanqing’s face twitched—he remembered his own words moments ago—and his expression turned icy.

“Beyond the heavens are higher heavens; beyond the mountains are higher mountains. There are always masters we cannot see.”

Wang Xuansha seemed to sense Wang Xuanqing’s thoughts and said gravely: “Even outside, even within our own Wang family…”

“You’d best temper your arrogance. Your talents are good, your cultivation rising—but you are not the strongest.”

“Third brother, are you talking about Wang Xuangang, that monster?” Wang Xuanfei asked.

At the mention of that name, Wang Xuanqing’s expression grew uneasy.

Among the younger generation of the Wang family, there was a prodigy named Wang Xuangang; legend said his fate was marked by the Seven Stars—when he was born, the Big Dipper hung directly overhead, its starlight pouring through his room, and seven red moles formed a birthmark on the soles of his feet.

From childhood, he displayed extraordinary talent, especially in cultivating the Daoist arts of the Worship of the Dipper Sect, revealing abilities beyond human capacity.

“Wang Xuangang is mentally unstable—he spends years in seclusion, never leaving his chamber; he’s not a normal person,” Wang Xuanqing said coldly.

“There’s a reason he’s not normal,” Wang Xuansha said gravely.

“What reason?”

“Do you remember the great fire that happened here eleven years ago?” Wang Xuansha brought up a past event.

“We remember…”

Ten li of the Golden River blazed skyward, flames blazing so fiercely the night turned as bright as day.

The incident caused a huge uproar at the time, but it was swiftly suppressed from top to bottom, every last trace erased.

“Is Wang Xuangang’s madness tied to that fire?” Wang Xuanqing couldn’t help asking.

“Watch your words—he’s mentally unbalanced, not insane.”

Wang Xuansha’s brow twitched, clearly displeased.

Though Wang Xuangang’s mind was unbalanced, his cultivation had never slipped; on the contrary, his Dao progress had surged rapidly.

Precisely because of this, even though he was a madman, the Wang family held him in special regard and issued strict orders: no one in the family, under any circumstances, was permitted to speak ill of Wang Xuangang.

Aside from the family decree, if such words reached that madman’s ears, who could stop him? Even if killed, one could only accept their fate.

“Third brother, forget him—keep going,” Wang Xuanfei shot Wang Xuanqing a furious glare, her curiosity piqued.

Over the years, they had known only that Wang Xuangang’s mind had broken, but never why.

“Is it tied to that fire?”

“Because he suffered his first great defeat,” Wang Xuansha said gravely.

“First great defeat?” Wang Xuanqing blurted: “That year, Wang Xuangang was only fifteen—he was already the family’s top talent.”

“He dominated the family without rival, but in that fire, he encountered a master.”

Wang Xuansha’s voice grew heavy: “The flames raged like a furnace; the man stepped out of the fire, and with just one glance, he left Wang Xuangang caught between life and death, his Dao heart nearly shattered.”

“What? One glance!?”

At these words, Wang Xuanqing and Wang Xuanfei both paled—this tale was even more absurd and unbelievable than the recent story of the Qi brothers being defeated in a single strike.

“This… this can’t be possible?”

“Eleven years ago, though Wang Xuangang was only fifteen, he was no greenhorn—he already had the foundation of the Worship of the Dipper Sect’s Dao arts…”

“How could one glance crush his Dao heart?” Wang Xuanqing shook his head, clearly unable to accept such a reality.

“That’s exactly what happened.”

Wang Xuansha shook his head, paused briefly, then continued: “Though Wang Xuangang’s mind is mostly unbalanced, over the years the family has exerted considerable effort and extracted fragments of truth from his words.”

“His madness likely stems from that defeat.”

“Because of that defeat, he has been mad these past years, utterly focused—yet his Dao progress has soared,” Wang Xuansha sighed in wonder.

Misfortune and fortune are intertwined; fate is truly unpredictable.

Had Wang Xuangang never endured that calamity, he might never have achieved what he has today.

Every cause bears its fruit; nothing happens without reason.

No wonder the ancients said: only after weathering a thousand trials can one truly comprehend the path to immortality.

Trials are the great medicine for cultivators.

“Third brother, who was it? Who crushed Wang Xuangang with just one glance? Which elder bullied a youth?”

At that moment, Wang Xuanfei spoke up.

“Bullied a youth!?” Wang Xuansha murmured softly, then shook his head: “It’s not as you imagine…”

“According to Wang Xuangang’s account, the one who struck him that day, stepping out of the flames, was…”

“A boy!”

“A boy even younger than he was!”

At these words, Wang Xuanqing and Wang Xuanfei stared at each other, their faces etched with utter disbelief.

“This… this can’t be possible!!?”

(End of Chapter)