Chapter 604: The Method of Trading Capital to Change Fate

Qingxuan Daochang and several Immortals departed.

As soon as they left, Lin Jue summoned Xian Zhu and Wan Xinrong over.

Both the man and the demon walked the Five Elements Dao.

“True Person.”

“Master.”

The two arrived before Lin Jue quickly.

“Wan Gong, Xian Zhu, you have both attained truth and enlightenment—what are your plans henceforth?” Lin Jue asked them.

“Why does the True Person ask this?” Wan Xinrong exclaimed in surprise.

“No need to be alarmed—just asking. If you have no other plans, I have a task for you; see whether you are willing.” Lin Jue said.

“True Person, you jest. Wan Mou has attained truth and enlightenment solely thanks to your guidance and aid; otherwise, I would long ago have turned to dust.” Wan Xinrong said, “Since this cultivation is your gift, Wan Mou naturally wishes to remain by your side, guarding you and obeying your commands.”

“I have no plans either—I will follow my Master’s orders,” Xian Zhu said likewise. “If Master commands me, as I have my senior and junior brothers, to roam the world expelling demons and upholding justice, I shall descend the mountain. If Master has other arrangements, I shall obey. If none, I shall linger in these mountains, cultivating alongside you.”

Lin Jue smiled slightly:

“At this moment, the Purple Emperor is trapped, and the spirits are clashing—chaos will surely stir across the Nine Heavens and the mortal realm. The Heavenly Monitor and Demon Subduing Emperor of the Nine Heavens is a righteous and upright spirit, our old friend. Alas, his foundation is still shallow, his power weak; he may wish to act but lacks the strength. Thus, I have agreed to send my enlightened disciples to aid him—for a hundred years. Wan Gong, if you wish, you may go as well.”

“Disciple obeys.”

“Isn’t that Lord Nan, the Southern Celestial Master?” Wan Xinrong said.

“Indeed.”

“Lord Nan is a virtuous man. Had it not been for the True Person, perhaps during the Baolin and Modushan expeditions, I too would have followed him, like the other sages of the Gathered Immortals Mansion.” Wan Xinrong said, “Now, with the True Person’s command, I am willing to lend him aid.”

“Wan Gong is too courteous…”

After a few more words of advice and casual chat, the two withdrew.

Lin Jue stood at the edge of the pavilion, gazing into the distance, lost in thought.

Counting the time, this was now nearing the Purple Emperor’s third purge of demons and monsters.

Ten years remained until the third.

In the Old Heavenly Elder’s calculations, the Purple Emperor would face four purges of demons and monsters. The first two were manageable; the third triggered a united demonic counterattack, causing great turmoil in the mortal realm.

The fourth caused massive upheaval even in the Nine Heavens, as countless spirits were tied to the demons. By then, the Purple Emperor had reigned for over two hundred years—like the Heavenly Elder of the fallen dynasty—his authority in both the Nine Heavens and the mortal realm had greatly declined, and it was hard to say he did not use this opportunity to eliminate opposition.

At that time, the Great Yu Dynasty of the mortal realm was also nearing its end, poised to be replaced by a new dynasty.

Now, it has been accelerated by roughly seventy years.

Who knows how many more years this dynasty can last.

Lin Jue thought thus, and waved his hand.

Imperceptibly, this realm began to undergo subtle changes.

Unnoticed, the Fengshan pavilions had become different from before.

Once, these pavilions and halls still lay deep within Fengshan, concealed only by the fox’s illusionary mist—outsiders could not reach them, and even if they did, they could not see the cliffside pavilions. Now, like Yuanqiu Immortal Realm, it relied on the outer world yet stood apart from it, becoming a secluded paradise.

Yet time here still flowed the same as the outside world.

The similarity was that ordinary mortals could no longer enter easily.

But like Lin Jue and the Old Heavenly Elder, he had not fully sealed this immortal realm—he had left one thread.

Friends, acquaintances, old companions could come and go; those guided by Chen Niu could enter; and if a truly destined person appeared at the right moment, they too could enter this immortal realm.

If someone truly came, it would be fate—then offering them a cup of immortal wine, chatting with them awhile, gifting them an immortal fruit, bestowing some cultivation—what harm would that be?

“Chen Niu.”

Lin Jue suddenly called out.

A small brown-clad spirit appeared out of thin air, staring at him solemnly.

Lin Jue smiled at him and asked gently: “Still no memory of your home?”

The brown-clad spirit continued staring, unmoved by his sudden concern—only annoyed that this man summoned him only to not ask for directions.

After a moment’s thought, it said:

“Can’t find it…”

“Seems you can’t return anyway,” Lin Jue said. “Then be my Spirit Official.”

Without sound or trace, the spirit vanished.

Lin Jue sat down in meditation.

As he had expected—

The Southern Jade Mirror Emperor, seeking to ascend the Nine Heavens, reignited the mortal realm’s struggle over incense and faith.

Over two hundred years ago, Jiang Zhao Ren, one of Yili Shenjun’s two attendant spirits and his younger siblings, was reborn as Jiang Ning, spreading incense and faith on earth. Two centuries later, Jiang Jian Yue, another attendant spirit of Yili Shenjun, was reborn again, still as a Daoist, traveling the mortal realm to compete for faith.

This was what Jiang Daochang told them when he visited.

Now, Jiang Daochang was relatively idle, visiting Fengshan Immortal Realm every few days to see Lin Jue and his junior sister. The three, with the cat-fox in tow, wandered mountains and waters, brewed tea, drank wine, recalled past events, dreamed of tomorrow, and chatted idly—perfectly carefree.

……

Some time passed.

A few white clouds drifted in the sky; several Immortals drank atop them, discussing the current struggle over incense orthodoxy between mortal realm and Nine Heavens.

“The Southern spirits are indeed skilled at managing affairs,” said Zhenren Xuanming.

“Though the Southern spirits are skilled in administration, the spirits under the Purple Emperor are far from idle like those under the former Heavenly Elder—they are diligent, fierce, and battle-hardened,” said Daochang Bai Luan, shaking his head. “Their incense won’t be easily contested.”

“I think so too.”

Zhenren Moyu nodded:

“Though the Purple Emperor has not yet returned, this has freed the Northern spirits from the two drawbacks of ‘exterminating demons without regard for good or evil’ and ‘oppressing mortals, causing imperial discontent.’ The Nine Heavens have always held the tradition that Emperor-figures must not intervene directly in incense orthodoxy. Even if the Jade Mirror Emperor returns, what can he do? He must still rely on his True Jun spirits, divine servants, Daoists, and doctrines to compete with the North.”

“I still favor the Heavenly Monitor and Demon Subduing Emperor.”

“Hard to say…”

The three Immortals’ natures seemed unchanged by that life-or-death duel—they remained the same three Immortals who loved watching dramas and gossiping.

Lin Jue stood nearby, saying nothing.

Not long after, the white clouds halted.

The three Immortals fell silent, looking down—some solemn, some resigned, some sorrowful—and turned to Lin Jue together:

“This was Master Menghua’s former cave.”

The fox clung to the edge of the cloud, peering down; Lin Jue and his junior sister likewise looked down.

It was a vast mountain of bamboo forest, dozens of li wide, entirely covered in bamboo—so that from above, the hills seemed unnaturally soft, rippling like waves in the wind. A faint mist drifted through the mountains, unlike ordinary morning fog or mountain haze—it was the lingering concealment of an Immortal.

Lin Jue looked left and right, searching everywhere—but found no trace of Menghua Zhenren’s soul or remains.

“When an Immortal attains truth and enlightenment, they shed their mortal form. After death, nine out of ten return to their origin. If any soul remains, it is either resurrected or reborn—how could any soul or corpse linger in the mortal realm?” said Zhenren Xuanming, shaking his head. He pointed downward, and objects among the bamboo forest rose into the air.

Several garments;

Several books;

Several scraps of paper;

Several broken brushes;

A chessboard and pieces, a wine flask and teacup;

All floated in midair.

Zhenren Xuanming examined them, then discussed briefly with Daochang Bai Luan and Zhenren Moyu, selecting two books:

“These are Master Menghua’s personal notes—perhaps recording daily insights. Since he is dead, Lin Daofriend, you may take them and see if they contain any method to alter fate through capital.”

It seemed only self-realization would do.

Lin Jue thanked him and accepted the books solemnly.

“As for the rest…”

Zhenren Xuanming hesitated slightly, glancing at the two beside him: “Do either of you wish to keep anything as a memento? If not, I shall leave them here—perhaps a future destined soul will find them by chance, and thus continue the bond with Master Menghua.”

“Leave them here.”

“Perfect.”

All three were naturally carefree, idle Immortals, ungreedy and elegant in action.

They rode the clouds away again, chatting idly as they drifted hundreds of li with the wind, then agreed to meet again in decades, and parted.

Lin Jue returned to Fengshan.

Beneath the great stone pavilion in the back mountain, once used by Fuyao for shelter, the fox still lay sprawled, lazy. The Daoist opened the two books at random.

“Shhh…”

“...Master Fuchi Shenjun fought three Zhenren and two Immortals alone. Zhenren Xuanming invited me to watch, but I foresaw a calamity of blades—out of caution, I did not go…”

Lin Jue glanced at the first page, flicked his finger slightly—the wind turned the page for him.

The pavilion leaked wind; the mountain breeze never ceased, flipping the pages continuously.

“Shhh shhh…”

Suddenly, it stopped on one page.

“Great calamity cannot be avoided… Heavenly fate cannot be changed…”

Lin Jue studied it carefully, then flipped further.

The sun and moon turned above his head; daylight flickered between bright and dim.

Until both books were finished.

“There are indeed some records—but only fragments,” Lin Jue murmured to himself. “Of little use.”

He looked up—the Dao seemed like countless stars, all before his eyes.

Lin Jue knew that the Dao determining one’s talent and destiny must also lie within it.

Which one would it be?

Fortunately, Lin Jue himself did not know how much time he had left.

The sun, moon, and stars, the seasons and celestial timing, continued their usual cycles in the mountains; Fuyao accompanied him, his junior sister cultivated in quiet seclusion within the mountains, Luo Gongceng often came to till the soil and pick fruit, Jiang Daochang frequently visited to occasionally learn of worldly affairs and the progress of his disciples; the days passed both leisurely and swiftly.