Chapter 780: White Lotus

Due west of Sui Du, it is also eighteen hundred thousand li, also a stretch of continuous mountains.

Unlike the towering, overbearing mountains where the Scarlet Lotus Temple stands, which seem ready to pierce a hole in the heavens, this range's slopes are warm and gentle; each peak resembles the most beautiful curve on a maiden's body, layer after layer stretching toward the horizon.

Every peak is lush green all over, teeming with strange flowers and exotic herbs; towering ancient trees stand thick together, countless vines cling to them, and countless birds of all sizes and colors chirp happily, building nests among the vines, energetically chasing and playing.

Between the peaks, there is water.

It may wind and twist, or surge grandly, or be mild and compliant, or rush swift as an arrow.

All kinds of flowing water—whatever ordinary people can imagine—appear in these mountains.

By the water stand strange rocks, high and low, fat and thin, round and full or craggy and rugged, all varieties, likewise the work of nature's craftsmanship, occasionally shaped by skillful hands.

Among the stones grow various strange orchids.

By these waters, among the strange stones, only orchids of a thousand forms, serene and graceful, bloom quietly.

In the air, the rich orchid fragrance drifts with the water and the mountain wind, carried far and far.

On the water are bridges of various materials and shapes, long or short, wide or narrow. All the bridges follow the terrain and water flow, arising naturally, at one with all things in heaven and earth; a careless passerby nearby would hardly notice that such a splendid bridge actually exists on the water.

Each bridge connects to a road paved with stone slabs, strips, and pebbles.

The roads may be wide or narrow, winding or straight; every segment is unique, each pebble, each strip, each slab one‑of‑a‑kind.

Together these elements give the roads a lofty literary air, elegant and beautiful to the utmost.

Amid these gentle, beautiful peaks stand similarly elegant pavilions exuding a scholarly air, scattered here and there. Countless men and women in white robes, white tall caps, swords at their waists—even their scabbards snow‑white—come and go, each person poised and magnanimous, bearing an indescribable air of carefree ease.

This is the White Lotus Palace, the Pure Heart White Lotus Palace, one of the three great state‑protecting divine sects of the Sui Dynasty.

Past groups of White Lotus disciples reciting scriptures beneath ancient trees and playing leisurely chess on the rocks, a strangely shaped white tower like ivory suddenly juts out from the mountains.

The curving ivory‑white tower rises nearly a hundred stories, its lines soft and lovely; each tier is carved with scenes of masters teaching and students studying—tales of encouragement and advancement.

On the tower's topmost level, dozens of white‑clad elders relax in the great hall, sitting or standing, strolling about, or leaning on the railings to gaze into the distance.

A dozen or so large desks stand in a row; white‑clad elders paint and write, while others stand by criticizing, drawing constant laughter and scolding.

Several chessboards are set up, with people playing and others offering advice, causing endless disputes.

Still others set up a charcoal brazier in the hall's corner, boiling water and brewing tea, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Others simply doze off, having drunk old wine somewhere unknown, rolling up their book bundles as pillows, curled beneath the shelves, snoring loudly and sleeping soundly.

In short, the dozens of white‑clad elders are unconstrained, natural‑hearted, doing as they please, and live happily on the tower's highest level.

Then, a middle‑aged man in a white robe climbed the steep stairs, his face solemn, and coughed heavily: "Esteemed masters, the three junior brothers Bai Lu, Bai He, and Bai Ji have jointly sent back a Flying Fire Order."

Dozens of white‑clad elders halted their motions at once; even the one dozing beneath the shelves opened his eyes, rose silently, and stared fixedly at the messenger in white.

An old man with loose, gray‑white hair, dignified bearing, and a lion‑king's mighty aura set down his thick brush, slowly picked up a white towel from the desk, wiped his hands—kept as soft and white as a maiden's—and asked in a low voice: "You've been away several years; any gains?"

The white‑clad middle‑aged man smiled faintly, shook his head: "I found some large islands, small land masses, and a few 'New Spirit Treasures' reborn from the world‑creating qi after Mu Dalu re‑condensed… these hardly count as great gains."

The dozens of white‑clad elders snorted coldly in unison, each pointing a finger at the middle‑aged man.

The speaking elder snorted: "Don't play coy; if you'd only found some islands, small tracts, and a few worthless 'New Spirit Treasures', would you come bustling here just to chatter? Is there anything else important?"

The white‑clad middle‑aged man smiled: "Indeed, masters, your eyes are like torches; nothing can be hidden from you."

He shook a jade talisman in his hand and said solemnly: "They have discovered an enormous landmass—the very western demon kingdom of legend, the great western realm spoken of in giant‑demon tales… according to whispers from some elders of the Nuwa clan, this is the territory they call the Fuxi Divine Kingdom… well, that kingdom is now called Wuguo; its land area and annual output are ordinary, but its populace numbers at least a hundred times that of our Sui Dynasty…"

He paused, then emphasized: "At least a hundredfold, perhaps even hundreds of times our Sui population—we cannot know."

He shook his head and exclaimed: "The three junior brothers further noted that Wuguo's peoples are extremely diverse, containing every extinct non‑human race of our Sui Dynasty, likely all present."

The gazes of the dozens of white‑clad elders grew profoundly deep, various divine lights flashing; above their heads a surge of righteous qi rose, transforming into mighty rivers that spanned the void.

"So, excellent—have Bai Lu and the others secured it?" asked an elder whose breath was gentle, whose appearance was as bright as a sixteen‑year‑old maiden.

"Lost… Qing Feng of the Azure Lotus Temple and Fan Kun of the Scarlet Lotus Temple are also there. Qing Feng surely tampered, forcing the three junior brothers to gamble on Wuguo's allegiance; they didn't check… and lost."

The white‑clad middle‑aged man said unhurriedly: "The three junior brothers sent word back, seeking the sect's stance… they swore an oath before the Azure Lotus Temple's True Sage Statue that they would never again entertain any thought of Wuguo."

The lion‑like elder snorted deeply: "True Sage Statue? The Azure Lotus Temple has laid down a great stake… but indeed, Wuguo is worth our effort."

After a moment's thought, the elder smiled: "We cannot let Bai Lu and the others break their oath; thus we will lay out the details of Wuguo for careful consideration."

The white‑clad middle‑aged man assented, then proceeded to recount, item by item, all the information concerning Wuguo and Wu Tie.