Chapter 333: 183. Return to Simplicity, This Maiden Is the Prince of Yan (Combined)

The nine of you begin descending from Mount Zhongnan.

You're not moving fast enough!

Back then, when you and Lu Yu entered the capital, there were only two of you; Xiangbudaoshigeshinian ， Xianzaiqueduoleqimingdiziyitongsuixing 。

All seven disciples are in their early twenties, with the eldest already past thirty.

The seven wear the distinctive blue Daoist robes of Mount Zhongnan, closely following behind you and Lu Yu.

Lu Yu wears a plain white Daoist robe, unstained by dust; he does not wear a Daoist cap, his hair falls loosely over his shoulders, his face is as radiant as polished jade, and a red mole marks his forehead—his entire presence is elegant and otherworldly.

He looks like a nobleman out for an autumn outing, yet his eyes gleam with icy light, making others dare not meet his gaze.

He appears the youngest among them, like a boy of sixteen.

Whenever Lu Yu and his disciples descend the mountain, they are often mistaken for some aristocratic scion leading a group of Daoist guards on a leisurely excursion.

You still wear a hemp Daoist robe, your head covered by a wide-brimmed hat, riding ahead at a steady, unhurried pace.

Autumn wind sweeps across Mount Zhongnan, yellow leaves blanket the path; nine riders gallop atop them, the sound of hooves mingling with the rustle of falling leaves.

By afternoon, white thunderclouds had already gathered in the sky.

Thick black clouds loomed over the mountains.

Beyond Mount Zhongnan lies another fifty li to the banks of Yuetangjiang, where you may switch to boats.

Traveling north means going upstream—you cannot take a boat.

Instead, you will follow the current downstream to Yongguan, detour around the chain of mountains ahead, and take the wide imperial road.

From there, the route is smooth all the way to Yanjing, the easiest and most leisurely path.

This journey to Yanjing for the Heaven Sacrifice is neither a forced march nor a race against time.

You glance at Lu Yu; though silent, his eyes, fixed on the riverbank, betray his thoughts clearly.

You understand at once and suggest taking a boat—he immediately smiles.

The seven disciples exchange knowing glances.

They're headed for Yuejiang City!

Yang Su watches the dragonflies and birds circling overhead and says: "Master, we must hurry—the storm's coming."

You've entered the Primordial Realm; your senses are extraordinarily sharp—hairs on your forearm rise involuntarily, your pores seem to open, and you faintly sense the approaching rain from dozens of li away.

We must speed up!

As the journey draws nearer.

Carriages and pedestrians on the road grow more numerous.

Yet the seven disciples feel puzzled: throughout this journey, your nine-person group—clothing, demeanor, bearing—should have drawn plenty of attention.

They had prepared for crowds gathering at Yuejiang City to hire boats; their master dislikes commotion!

Yet unexpectedly!

Few among the travelers cast curious glances at your group; you attract no notice.

How strange!

As Yuejiang City draws closer, a fine curtain of rain has quietly descended, drizzling endlessly, lightly dampening passersby's shoulders.

You look up—the sky is choked with dark clouds, churning and surging, signaling that this light rain will soon burst into a torrential downpour.

You think to yourself: every time you leave Mount Zhongnan, an unexpected rain always follows—as if fate itself demands it.

Your master Liu Jinchan once joked that you bear the Five Elements' Water Virtue, the Northern Kan position, where water gathers naturally.

When the hidden dragon emerges from its depths, wind and water rise—and rain falls from heaven!

The light rain blurs the distant view!

Lu Yu is surrounded by an invisible aura; raindrops touching him part automatically, never wetting his robes—this sight has long ceased to surprise his seven disciples.

Master never carries an umbrella in the rain—he only strikes people!

Yet to reach Master's level of effortless grace—even as Grand Masters themselves—they feel humbled.

The seven disciples use their inner strength to repel rain from their bodies, yet some moisture still seeps through, forcing them to dry their clothes with inner energy.

To manage even this much is considered extraordinary in the Jianghu.

Among the disciples, the fifth is particularly perceptive; his gaze lingers on his master, wondering how deeply his master has cultivated in years of seclusion.

The other disciples also watch eagerly!

None of the seven can fathom their master's cultivation depth.

To their eyes, both Master and Master Lu appear ordinary.

Yet the more ordinary they seem, the deeper the disciples know their master's cultivation must be.

They whisper among themselves that their master may have entered the Grand Master realm—only he remains unnamed on the Jingzhe List.

Their anticipation and curiosity grow; they tighten their reins, eyes locked on their master.

Yet rain still falls unimpeded upon his shoulders—he wears his hat, and his Daoist robe is thoroughly soaked, clinging to his body.

No resistance.

He is drenched from head to toe, yet seems utterly unaware.

The seven are stunned.

You feel the cold rain soaking your skin, gradually drenching your entire body; distant thunder rumbles within the clouds.

You gently extend your palm, letting the fine rain gather into beads before slowly sliding away.

A breeze carries raindrops against your face; you press your hat firmly to keep it from blowing off.

Hooves pound the muddy ancient road, leaving uneven tracks; the sturdy horse exhales warm, heavy breaths.

Here, you sit quietly upon your steed—the Primordial Realm has three stages: "Autumn Waters Return to the Sea," "Self and Object Forgotten"; you now lack only the final stage: "Return to the Simple."

To reach it, you must inwardly gather your spirit, harmonize your inner and outer self, merge your being with the vast universe, attain the state of no-self, and thus complete your cultivation.

This stage prioritizes perception: you must sense the external world until heaven and earth coexist with you, and all things become one with you—then you forge your own path.

"Alone, I commune with the spirit of heaven and earth, without arrogance toward all things."

The Three True Ancestors spoke of three realms of freedom: "Traveling through the Six Directions, roaming the Nine Provinces, going alone, coming alone—that is solitude." Only then may one attain harmony with Heaven and Earth, stepping into the next realm.

Lu Yu seems to have anticipated this all along.

You smile calmly: "Let's go—the rain will stop soon, but in half a moment, another downpour will come. Find shelter first."

Indeed, shortly after!

The rain stops—the sky still rumbles with distant thunder; the seven are awestruck.

Your nine-person group finds a humble tavern along the road.

Calling it a tavern is generous—it's barely a shed!

A thatched roof supported by poles, holding seven or eight square tables, each seating four.

Inside the shed are two stone rooms—the owner's living quarters.

Along the Tea-Horse Ancient Road, such taverns and teahouses are common; they serve not only as resting spots for travelers but also as hubs for Jianghu information.

Here, you meet all kinds: ordinary peddlers, martial artists with extraordinary skills, even fugitives from all four kingdoms.

Therefore!

Those who run businesses on the Tea-Horse Ancient Road all possess real skill.

No diamond drill, no porcelain to mend.

Of course, the Jianghu also has black inns—bowls of drugged wine, baskets of human meat buns—terrifying novices!

Warmth mixed with the scent of alcohol wafts from afar, sharply contrasting the chill outside.

Inside the tavern, three tables are occupied by Jianghu figures!

The first table draws the most attention: four men in black robes sit together, their hoods pulled low, concealing their faces—deeply mysterious.

Their table is laden with food and wine, steaming hot, yet none have touched their chopsticks; they sit silently, as if waiting.

Their shoes and socks are clean, untouched by mud—they entered the moment the rain began, avoiding the storm outside.

The second table holds a man and a woman, seated apart.

The woman wears a green silk gown, her figure graceful, a long sword resting beside her feet; though her hat hides her face, her cold, aloof aura cannot be concealed.

The man is tall and elegant, dressed in brocade, handsome, with phoenix eyes smiling, a folding fan and a long sword beside him.

The third table is even more imposing: again, a man and a woman.

A composed middle-aged man sits beside a seductive woman; behind them stand four sword-bearers—clearly of high status; they entered only after the rain began, their shoes and clothes caked with mud.

At this moment!

As your nine-person group enters, the tavern's atmosphere turns tense.

The three tables turn their gazes toward you—curious, assessing, dismissive.

Especially the brocade-clad man—his eyes sweep over you, then land on your soaked Daoist robe; a sneer curls his lips.

Among the hooded black-robed men, one's gaze lingers on your group for a moment—surprised, disbelieving.

He first looks at you, then refocuses on Lu Yu, finally locking his eyes on you—the one wearing the hat.

After dismounting, your disciples step forward to lead the horses to the stable.

The tavern owner, an old, hunched man in plain clothes, hurries forward.

"Lords and ladies, please come in. The rain is heavy—warm yourselves with some hot wine."

His hoarse, warm voice echoes through the tavern, like a stream of heat dispelling the rain's chill.

Your group follows, finding seats; the tavern instantly grows livelier.

You and Lu Yu sit at one table; the other seven disciples spread across two others.

The woman in the green silk gown maintains her cold demeanor, her sword resting quietly beside her feet.

"Granddaughter, bring wine for our guest!"

The old man called out.

From behind the curtain at the back, a young woman in a thick linen jacket stepped out quietly; her hair was braided into a long black plait, half her face covered in red blotches, the other half twisted by what looked like burn scars—terrifying to behold, her eyes darting away nervously.

The woman swiftly placed the warmed wine on the table one by one.

You thanked her.

The woman looked up at you once more, then left with a sullen expression.

The brocade-clad man gazed calmly at Lu Yu's handsome face, a flicker of interest in his eyes.

The middle-aged man at another table was even more composed and reserved, radiating an aura of quiet authority; the alluring woman watched your group of nine in silence.

Yang Su, the fifth disciple, picked up the shopkeeper's discarded rag with practiced ease and meticulously wiped your and Lu Yu's table again before returning to his seat calmly.

Zhu Zi, the seventh disciple among Lu Yu's seven students, quickly said: "Fifth Brother, your diligence is admirable—next time, bring me along so I can bask in the blessings of my uncle."

Yang Su chuckled and patted Zhu Zi's large belly—he was the fattest of the seven.

"Seventh, it depends on your perception. This job demands sincerity and steady hands."

The seven disciples remained calm, sitting upright with proper posture now that their master, Lu Yu, was present.

As for worry—with Master and Uncle here, where in the world couldn't they go?

Your cultivation had reached the Primordial Realm; every minute detail around you was within your perception.

The qi signatures of the three tables of martial artists rippled like gentle waves on a lake, all clearly entering your mind.

Lu Yu's voice whispered softly into your ear—the unique technique of silent transmission, reserved for those of profound cultivation; and now, you too could wield it effortlessly.

The four mysterious figures with hooded faces were the weakest among them; though decent by Jianghu standards, they were merely top-tier experts.

The young man and woman on the left—the woman in green and the brocade-clad man—both stood at the Master Realm; to reach such a level at their age, they must hail from a prestigious sect and possess extraordinary talent.

As for the middle-aged man on the other side, his cultivation had also reached the Master Realm, yet his aura was unusually murky, concealing severe internal injuries that would only worsen if left untreated.

The alluring woman was likewise a Master Realm cultivator, her qi dim and her blood and qi severely depleted—her cultivation was less than one-tenth of its potential; without treatment, she would face grave consequences.

The strongest cultivator in this tavern was none other than the old man!

The old man's aura was nearly at the level of "Returning to Purity and Simplicity"; only a faint, silent flow of spiritual energy lingered on his person—had Lu Yu not reached the Heavenly-Person Realm, he likely would have missed it entirely.

The girl named Axiu, the old man's granddaughter, was an ordinary person.

When had Grand Masters become so commonplace? We had barely descended the mountain, yet we kept encountering them—this was exceedingly rare.

The number of Grand Masters in the world is limited: excluding the thirteen famed names on the Jingzhe List and five reclusive sages, there are only eighteen in total—a limit set by Heaven, unbreakable.

And now, within this single tavern, three Grand Masters had gathered—its implications were obvious.

Lu Yu whispered: "They're almost certainly here for you."

You nodded calmly.

At that moment!

A rapid clatter of hooves drew near, shattering the tavern's stillness.

Nine swift horses charged in like a sudden storm.

The riders all wore blue-and-white Daoist robes similar to yours; their leader wore a wide-brimmed hat that concealed his face, adding an air of mystery.

The nine moved with precision, dismounting swiftly, radiating formidable presence.

Seeing them, the old man immediately dropped his tasks and hurried forward, beaming with a wide smile:

"Welcome, honored guests!"

The one wearing the hat interrupted: "Don't call me 'honored guest.' Call me Prince Yan!"

Beneath the hat came a clear, melodious female voice.

The old man froze, then cautiously asked: "Prince Yan?"

"I am Prince Yan!"

(End of Chapter)