Chapter 556: It Was All What the Master Said

Mountain winds swept petals through the air, swirling like dragons and rivers, while inside the empty, silent pavilion, the immortal wore a gentle expression.

“How is the Lin family of Shu Village now?”

“R-Return, Immortal, the Lin family is in business, and it seems to be going quite well. Before I left, my Wang family even joined forces with the Lins to form a caravan, selling inkstones from neighboring She County to the capital.”

Though the boy had been invited to sit on a chair by the immortal, who sat beside him on an identical chair, side by side like a kindly elder neighbor, he still couldn’t suppress his nervousness:

“And, and everyone nearby has heard that several elders in the Lin family are over a hundred years old and still alive—they say they’ve achieved immortality.”

“How many people are in the Lin family now?”

“I don’t know—many, probably dozens.”

“What about the Shu family of Shu Village?”

“They say the Shu Village has prospered too! It’s been expanded, much wealthier than before, the village river widened, the temple rebuilt, and they frequently travel to the capital and Jiangnan for trade.”

“I see…”

Lin Jue nodded, sinking into thought.

As for the old acquaintances of the Wang family back then, he did not ask further—they must surely have returned to dust by now.

At that moment, the boy beside him suddenly rolled up and scrambled to his knees before him in panic:

“I wish to follow the Immortal and learn the Dao and magic! Please, Immortal, take me as your disciple!”

The boy was naturally nervous and flustered—this was an immortal, the legendary “Immortal Lin” still spoken of in the mortal world—and he dared not be certain the true immortal would accept him.

And he naturally did not know that Immortal Lin had already been waiting for him here for many years.

Although the contents of the illusion were merely the Heavenly Old Man’s projections, Lin Jue was not bound to follow them rigidly; yet, first, the Heavenly Old Man’s projections closely mirrored reality—this was a decision Lin Jue himself might have made—and second, the illusion had stirred in him some faint emotions, though not entirely real, somewhat blurred, growing blurrier toward the end, yet still carrying emotional weight.

One must never be bound by such false emotions from illusions; in ordinary matters, a little consideration is harmless.

“You found your way here—this means the kindness your Wang family once showed me has not yet been repaid,” Lin Jue told him. “This too is fate between us.”

“Huh? The True Immortal will take me in?”

“Why are you so startled?”

“No! No! Disciple pays homage to Master!”

The boy was quick-witted and immediately bowed his head and shouted.

Suddenly remembering he had wandered here in a daze, inexplicably arrived at the pavilion, met the immortal he had long sought—and still had not even given his name—he hurriedly added:

“Master! My name is Wang Ran!”

“I know.”

The Daoist spoke these words, then turned to the other Daoist quietly sipping tea beside him: “Xu Yi.”

“Master, disciple is here.”

The scholarly-looking Daoist immediately rose, his expression tinged with resignation.

“This is my eldest disciple, Xu Yi. You have three older siblings: your second sister is Pu Mei, your third sister is Xian Zhu. First, follow your eldest brother in reciting the Yin-Yang Scripture and learning Yin-Yang Spirit Arts,” Lin Jue said to Xu Yi. “Take care of him—I must go to the imperial palace to fetch Luo Gongceng.”

Xu Yi was even more resigned.

Exactly as expected—

The master’s new disciple was once again handed to him.

“Master, couldn’t you let the eldest sister and third sister also experience the ‘joy’ of guiding a junior disciple?”

“Fine. Do as you please. You’re good at coaxing people—you know how to persuade them. Go persuade them. They’re all easier to fool than the last.” Lin Jue said. “Just get him familiar with this place, have him memorize the Yin-Yang Scripture, begin drawing in Yin-Yang spiritual essence, and start practicing the Yin-Yang Spirit Arts.”

“Yes…”

Lin Jue said no more and soon stepped out, walking onto the balcony, taking one step forward—thunderclouds gathered beneath his feet, lifting him toward Hongye Pavilion.

Left behind, the two Daoists exchanged glances.

“How old are you?”

Xu Yi smiled faintly. Though his body was still young, having cultivated in these deep mountains for years, his heart was young too—but seeing this boy, nearly his own age when he had first come, he could not help but feel a touch of warmth.

“Th-thirteen.”

“Thirteen and you dared travel so far to seek immortals and the Dao? Impressive,” Xu Yi said. “There were so many checkpoints on the way—how did you pass them?”

“Our dynasty—our dynasty is peaceful, encourages commerce, and the travel permits aren’t strictly checked. Every time I crossed a checkpoint or entered a city, I observed carefully. Where checks were strict, I either traveled with a caravan—they wouldn’t suspect a boy my age was alone, thinking I was with them—or I asked that spirit official to escort me around.”

“You’re quite clever.”

Xu Yi led him out of the pavilion.

Yet he did not summon thunderclouds with a token, nor grab Wang Ran—he merely flicked his sleeve, releasing a gentle breeze that lifted the boy, then stepped forward and leapt off the cliff’s edge.

“Ah!”

A cry of alarm—nearly startling everyone.

Even the white egrets perched on the mountaintop trees woke and turned their heads downward.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid! Just my legs shaking and heart pounding!”

“Heh, see those little houses down there?”

Wang Ran followed his finger’s direction and saw several very old, weathered huts.

“I-I see.”

“These were the huts where I, your two elder sisters, and several of Master’s guardians lived decades ago. Pick one, tidy it up, and gather branches and grass to shield yourself from rain.”

“What? Decades ago?”

The boy was startled, staring at the man before him.

He looked no older than twenty—yet how many years had he truly lived?

“Don’t be amazed. Immortal cultivation knows no years. Today’s world is peaceful, little need to descend the mountains to slay demons. In deep mountains, time passes faster,” Xu Yi said. “Did you remember?”

“I did.”

“Good. Then tomorrow, I’ll have your two sisters take you…”

Mid-sentence, two figures appeared beside him.

Pu Mei materialized out of the clear wind; Xian Zhu floated down gracefully from a lower pavilion clinging to the cliff.

One was tall and spirited, and standing before her, one inevitably felt a sense of pressure.

The other was of average height, with a round face, large eyes, and very fair skin—sweet and approachable.

The boy kept his head down, daring only to sneak glances at them.

“Oh, you’re here? Perfect. This is the descendant of Master’s old friend from his hometown, who traveled thousands of miles to become a disciple—Master has already accepted him, though the initiation ceremony hasn’t been held yet,” Xu Yi said at once. “Master said you’re to teach him the Yin-Yang Scripture, explain its meaning, and guide him in spirit arts; Xian Zhu, you’ll teach him spells later.”

“You want us to teach?” Pu Mei said.

“Is this real?” Xian Zhu said.

“Master said that while keeping one’s knowledge within oneself is secure, occasionally sharing it with others is a way to organize and reinforce it,” Xu Yi said without blinking. “I taught our little sister the Yin-Yang Scripture and Spirit Arts before. Now that a little brother has come, it’s only right for the little sister to teach him. As for his spells, let the eldest sister handle them.”

“That makes sense,” Pu Mei nodded. “But little brother, you often trick us—I must ask Master.”

“Master just left—he’s going to fetch the Emperor,” Xu Yi sighed. “You really think I’d lie to you?”

“I think it makes sense,” Xian Zhu said.

“Then it’s settled,” Pu Mei nodded.

“Then it’s decided,” Xu Yi said. “Remember—starting tomorrow.”

The boy beside them listened, growing dizzy.

What eldest sister, little brother?

And what about fetching the Emperor?

But he dared not show his confusion, only swallowing it inside.

“Then I—”

The boy felt uncertain, unsure what to do, glancing between the three elder siblings.

But the three exchanged glances and suddenly smiled.

The second sister raised her hand and beckoned—

From the lowest storage hut on the cliffside, two objects flew out, landing in her hands, then tossed to the ground.

A woodcutter’s axe and a wooden bucket.

The eldest brother smiled faintly: “If you’re bored, go chop some dry firewood and pile it in the woodshed, then draw water from the stream to fill the water vats.”

The third sister’s voice chimed in:

“Remember—don’t chop haphazardly, and drawing water has rules: you must…”

Meanwhile, two clouds drifted above.

One was a thundercloud, its lightning contained, its thunder silenced.

The other was a true five-colored auspicious cloud—not magically dyed, but naturally radiant, its edges shifting in vivid, rainbow-like hues; on clear days, under sunlight or moonlight, such clouds truly existed.

Two figures stood atop the clouds, gazing downward.

The elder sister spoke fluently; the boy listened intently—but his restless heart made him remember only vaguely.

There were none of those elaborate rules about deep forests.

For this place was Immortal Lin’s sacred ground. Though day and night still turned, dawn and dusk still met, no demons or ghosts ever harmed anyone here. This Fengshan had no mountain spirit—if any deity existed, it was these two immortals who cultivated here, and the white fox that often leapt and frolicked through the mountains.

“Brother, does this remind you of your younger self?” the immortal on the five-colored cloud asked.

“Didn’t you think of yourself?”

“I’m not talking about Wang Ran—I mean Xu Yi,” the little sister said. “He’s just like you.”

“You’re not much different.”

“…“ The little sister did not reply, only gazed downward. “I never thought brother would learn Master’s trick—taking disciples but refusing to teach them yourself, making them teach each other.”

"You only have one disciple, so of course you'd have Zi Yun teach them—if you took another, you'd surely have Zi Yun teach that one too," Lin Jue said, then paused. "But really, little sister, you won't take another disciple?"

"Forget it—there are no worthy souls," the junior sister shook her head. "Besides, I can barely teach this one."

"Yes..."

This was also Lin Jue’s burden.

When the Immortal said "can't teach them," there was another meaning: it was hard to guide a disciple to true enlightenment. But if you failed at that, you’d have to endure the pain of separation.

One is already hard to bear—how much worse with another?

That’s what "can't teach them" means.

"Let’s go," the junior sister said. "Don’t keep Master Luo waiting."

"Mm."

As if a gentle wind rose from the heavens, blowing away two clouds.