Chapter 545: The Yuanjun Visits

Clouds caught the setting sun, the evening wind brushing against his face, the entire capital and surrounding mountains laid bare before him.

The rising ascent through damp air, the chilling cold above the clouds, the near-fall during sharp turns, the weightless sensation of the body nearly lifting off during descent—going wherever one wished, with no barriers, no troubling distractions—combined into an indescribable freedom and joy.

“Exhilarating!”

The Emperor laughed loudly from the clouds: “Ha! I haven’t felt this free in ages!”

“There’s something even more fun—would you like to try, Lord Luo?”

“What?”

The Daoist smiled faintly and exhaled toward him.

“Huuu…”

That breath once turned palace eunuchs into a pack of foxes and chickens; now it turned Lord Luo into a white crane.

“?”

The white crane turned its head to look at itself, eyes filled with astonishment and wonder.

Without hesitation, it stepped forward, spread its wings, and leapt—vanishing from the thunderclouds high above.

“Peng…”

The fox instantly became a crow and chased after it.

The Daoist merely smiled, waiting atop the clouds.

After a while, the white crane soared upward slowly from below the thunderclouds, wings outstretched, the crow circling beside it.

No one in the world has never dreamed this dream.

The white crane glanced once at Lin Jue, then flew straight toward the forest beyond the setting sun.

Beneath the evening breeze, it was utterly refreshing.

Moments later—

“The ancients spoke of transforming into cranes as mere dreams; I never imagined I’d experience it myself,” Lord Luo said, walking beside Lin Jue along the ridge, his voice thick with wonder. “Truly, it is exquisite.”

“You’ve carried too many burdens for too long.”

“Indeed!”

“How long do you intend to sit in that seat?”

“This…”

The question left Lord Luo speechless.

Previous emperors rarely had his circumstances—since before rising to power, he’d been aided by Daoists who helped him enter the Dao through martial means; later, those who protected him became immortals. Previous emperors dreamed of meeting immortals, yet he had formed deep bonds with them, even received immortal fruits that extended his life.

Yet no emperor wished to become a retired emperor.

Nor did any emperor wish to have a retired emperor above him.

“Previous emperors usually reigned until death, but if you do the same, you’ll outlive generations of your descendants and endure long years of loneliness,” Lin Jue walked casually, thoughts drifting to the vision of Lord Luo’s lonely old age—especially the deaths of his consorts and old friends, and the growing rifts with his heirs; some things, even emperors and immortals could not change.

Lord Luo fell silent in thought.

“All things have their limits; knowing when to stop—I understand this well,” Lord Luo spoke.

Lin Jue glanced at him.

Lord Luo truly understood—he was well-versed in military strategy.

But the dragon throne is no ordinary position. Reasoning clearly while walking these hills doesn’t guarantee clarity once back in the palace; what seems clear now may grow foggy with time.

Yet Lin Jue, too, knew when to stop. He said no more, but smiled again:

“I see you have several descendants?”

“Two sons, three daughters,” Lord Luo laughed. “My youngest son was born just last year.”

Though he knew the Old Heaven’s visions weren’t necessarily the true future, seeing Lord Luo’s pure joy in this moment, contrasted with the decades ahead in the vision, gave Lin Jue a sense of unreality.

“Congratulations.”

“Ha! Master, haven’t you taken disciples too?”

“Yes. Two.” Lin Jue said. “An elder told me I’m destined to have four disciples—I don’t know if it’s true or false, but I’ve taken two so far.”

“I’ve met them! Very clever and nimble!”

“I’m quite satisfied with them.”

“A great master produces outstanding disciples.”

“I’ll do my best to teach and guide them. Whether they ultimately attain true Dao depends on their own destiny,” Lin Jue said as he walked. “But I know their talents don’t match mine in my youth.”

“Who could match the Master?”

“Ha! Indeed!” Lin Jue, rarely unmodest, turned to Lord Luo. “You’re the same. Your descendants carry your blood, but you yourself are a dragon among men—no matter how many generations pass, they’ll struggle to produce one who rivals you. If they inherit your throne, guide them well—but don’t demand too much of them.”

“I have a strange feeling…”

“What?”

“It’s as if the True Person foresaw my old age and came here specifically to warn me!”

“Ha!”

The two exchanged smiles, walking along the ridge that, under nightfall, resembled the spine of a black dragon, their silhouettes lit by the dreamlike glow from the west.

Then they spoke of amusing tales from the capital.

Previously, the capital harbored many spirits and demons living among humans; the Purple Xu Palace launched massive hunts, distributing talismans, sparking countless stories. Now, the most popular tales in the capital’s alleys all involve spirits and demons.

For instance, a county magistrate lived in a narrow alley south of the city, neighbor to a fox that had long aided and protected his family—until the Purple Xu Palace came and seized the fox.

The magistrate was furious. He first appealed to the Gathering Immortals Office, which couldn’t help; then he knelt at the palace gates, nearly facing punishment—until Lord Luo intervened and saved him.

A similar tale existed in the north.

Again, a family lived beside a fox that had long aided them—but this family lost their conscience. For a five-silver reward from the Purple Xu Palace, they betrayed their neighbor.

Rumor says they argued bitterly before the betrayal. When the fox was seized by the Purple Xu Daoists, it wept and cursed along the streets—not for itself, not for the Daoists’ cruelty, but for its own foolishness and the treachery of human hearts.

Later, the family, greedy for money, assumed the Gathering Immortals Office offered the same reward and went to claim it—only to meet the Southern Celestial Master.

The upright, righteous Southern Celestial Master couldn’t tolerate such a tale.

He scolded them until they were drenched in shame, then expelled them. The next day, the county office raided their home, confiscated the five-silver reward, and beat every member except the elder who had opposed the betrayal—five strokes each—to uphold justice.

There was also a demon who took the form of a city herbalist, running a pharmacy that saved many lives; all praised him as a divine healer, unaware he was never human.

And a high official’s concubine, stunningly beautiful and well-educated, turned out to be a fox spirit in disguise.

These tales spread widely throughout the capital.

Some say they’ve even been written into books.

Naturally, the “foxes” in these tales weren’t necessarily actual foxes transformed into demons—they were a general term for demons capable of shape-shifting whose true forms remained unknown.

There were also bloodier, more violent tales—the evil demons and ghosts the Purple Xu Palace had captured—but such stories were often too terrifying, appealing to fewer listeners, and thus less widely told.

Yet the two still spoke of them with great interest.

By the time the Emperor returned to the palace, no one knew he had secretly left that day—or where he’d gone or what wonders he’d witnessed.

Lin Jue had planned to visit the Southern Celestial Master, but after thinking, he decided against it.

A man as upright and righteous as the Southern Celestial Master would act according to his own heart—he needed no advice from Lin Jue. If he ever went, he’d wait for a time when the Master was free, visiting as an old friend to reminisce.

So he rode the clouds back to Fengshan.

…

On the rooftop pavilion atop the mountain.

“Wu!”

Another shovel plunged, turning fresh soil.

▲￠〇

Lin Jue buried another seed, carefully covered it with earth, then watered it with spirit water.

The fox sat quietly, licking its paws.

Among the greatest good deeds in the world, planting trees ranks among the highest.

Digging soil, sowing seeds, watering here is planting trees; teaching disciples below the mountain is planting trees; visiting Lord Luo is planting trees; Elder Brother visiting the mountain spirit is planting trees; Sixth Brother’s divinations are planting trees.

With patience, results will come.

Yet as he planted, he didn’t notice when a divine light descended behind him.

The fox, absorbed in licking its fur, glanced sideways, then continued.

“You have leisure to spare.”

A soft female voice spoke.

“You’ve come?”

Lin Jue set down the gourd, turned—and saw a tall woman, skin glowing pale, dressed in a simple divine robe, still holding her fly-whisk. He added:

“It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed, a long time.”

“We were guests of the Old Heaven in the Yuanqiu Immortal Realm for nearly a day—yet when we emerged, nearly a year had passed,” Lin Jue sighed, pointing to several nearly invisible sprouts atop the hill. “But it was fortune in disguise—we gained the phoenix feather, and the Old Heaven himself picked us a basket of Yuanqiu fruits.”

“The Ming Emperor Tianweng was truly in the Yuanqiu Immortal Realm? I told you—he’s strict, even with himself,” Jiang Daochang’s expression remained calm. “You’ve done no evil, your heart is open and at ease—even if you met the Ming Emperor Tianweng in Yuanqiu, he wouldn’t trouble you. And if you didn’t meet him, your abilities alone would let you traverse Yuanqiu freely.”

Lin Jue smiled, offering no rebuttal.

Jiang Daochang was undoubtedly right—but his initial worry, and his refusal to let Fuyao come along, was also valid. Neither was wrong; both their suspicions were confirmed.

“You’ve been granted the title of Yuanjun?”

“Yes.”

“What was it again?”

“Yuejing Dongzhao Yuanjun.”

"Congratulations, congratulations! This congratulation is a bit late!"

"It happened last year. I originally intended to inform you, but when I went beneath Feilai Mountain, I couldn’t find you. At the time, I guessed you had already entered Yuanqiu Mountain," said Daoist Jiang. "I never expected Lord Mingdi Tianweng would still keep you as guests—it seems you truly suit his taste."

"We didn’t expect it either."

Lin Jue picked up the bucket and took the hoe, preparing to return to the lower pavilion.

As the two passed each other, Daoist Jiang should have turned to follow, but suddenly he fixed his gaze intently on him and spoke:

"Why does it seem to me that you’ve changed?"

"Huh? Changed?" Lin Jue paused, then said, "Oh, when we were in Yuanqiu Mountain, we drank the red spring water there, so our youth was restored. As Fuyao put it, we’ve become a bit newer."

"No," Daoist Jiang lowered his eyelids. "Your heart has changed too."