Chapter 605: Immortal Mountain Welcomes Guests

Beyond the mortal world, in Shu Village, by the Jiyang Stream.

Lin Jue’s avatar still remained here, facing the Purple Emperor.

“Has the Emperor come to a decision?”

The Purple Emperor, seated motionless, opened his eyes and regarded him with utter indifference:

“Since you’ve asked, does it matter whether I’ve understood or not? Outside, the Nine Heavens and the mortal realm must have changed greatly by now.”

To the Purple Emperor, he had only been here for a few dozen days.

A few dozen days in the eyes of an Emperor seemed but the blink of an eye, yet he well knew that decades had passed in the outside world.

“Great changes,” Lin Jue said. “Yu Jian Emperor has reopened the struggle for the orthodox Nine Heavens, sending his True Lords and divine spirits to contend with those under your command. Yet there remains another Emperor in the Nine Heavens—his cultivation and incense offerings are inferior to yours, yet he commands deep reverence from the divine spirits. Even several of your own True Lords prefer him over the southern deities. The three factions are locked in fierce conflict.”

“Had I been present, how could Yu Jian have dared such arrogance?”

“Had you been present, Yu Jian Emperor might already have won.”

“…”

The Daoist swept his sleeve, and a table, a teapot, and two cups appeared in the pavilion.

“To keep you here so long is unjust. Let us brew tea together; when we’ve finished, I shall send you out.”

“Will the struggle in the Nine Heavens soon reach a conclusion?”

“Not yet—but it no longer concerns you.”

“…”

The Purple Emperor fell silent, then sighed.

“Ah…”

Lin Jue promptly offered him a cup of tea:

“Your Majesty, please drink.”

The changes in the mortal realm and the Nine Heavens were not limited to these.

The mortal dynasty produced a ruler who revived its glory.

Especially in his early years, he pacified the four quarters, brought peace and prosperity. His strength, combined with the weakness of the Purple Emperor’s divine lineage, made the mortal emperor seem to stand taller before the divine spirits—leastwise, the power to bestow divine titles returned to the hands of the mortal court.

But neither mortals nor divine spirits could remain sage forever.

In his old age, this reviving monarch became a wicked dragon looming over the dynasty.

Since faith concerned interests more fundamental than gold, disputes over incense often sparked unrest. As the southern divine lineage began clashing anew with the northern spirits, the conflict inevitably spilled into politics and military affairs. This dynasty, which had endured two centuries, was now slowly nearing its end.

As Lin Jue had suspected—

Demons and evil spirits increasingly emerged to cause chaos, and correspondingly, tales of demons, ghosts, immortals, and sages slaying monsters spread through the mortal realm.

All three of his disciples gained fame because of it.

Just as Lin Jue and his junior sister once had, they left behind countless legends of divine sages. Had anyone recorded them, they would surely make compelling stories.

During his leisurely trips down the mountain, Lin Jue even heard rumors of Ji Yin and his senior brother’s other disciples.

Meanwhile, Xu Yi and Pu Mei, with their superior talent, seized the chaos of the age and attained true cultivation in succession. Lin Jue still ordered them to ascend to the Nine Heavens and assist Lord Nan for a hundred years—continuing, in another form, their mission to eradicate evil and uphold the mortal realm even after becoming immortals.

The struggle in the Nine Heavens had also reached its fiercest point.

…

Huizhou, night.

Mist obscured the pavilions, the moon confused the river crossings; a passenger boat, lanterns glowing, drifted slowly along the spring waters.

“These days, demons and spirits are growing ever more numerous,” said a scholar to his companion. “But thankfully, they’re not as brazen as in the tales. A while back, I encountered a ghost at night—he dressed, spoke, and acted like a scholar. We discussed poetry. I still remember the verse he composed: ‘Autumn tides crash against the riverbank, lonely boat moored near the third watch. Twelve vermilion towers, willows everywhere—where does the flute play, accompanying the bright moon?’ But when we parted, he finally told me he was a ghost.”

“That’s still a good ghost.”

“Evil demons and ghosts are rare; even when they appear, they’re slain by the immortals above or by Master Wang.”

“Indeed!”

As they spoke, neither realized that just behind them stood two Daoists, each accompanied by a child—and the very “Master Wang” they praised stood humbly beside them, face flushed with shame.

Lin Jue turned to him and smiled. “Your reputation is quite considerable, Master Wang.”

“Along the way, haven’t you heard at least eight or ten tales of Master Wang slaying demons and expelling evils?” his junior sister added.

Hearing this, Master Wang’s shame deepened.

“Please don’t mock me, Master and Auntie.”

His shame was only natural.

His master, a great adept, had taken four disciples. Three had already attained true cultivation and ascended to the heavens, aiding the Imperial Lord of Heaven and Demon Subjugation. Though they held no official divine titles, the people had bestowed them with mighty divine appellations. Only he, the least gifted, would likely never achieve immortality in this lifetime.

Ahead, the three scholars continued recounting strange tales.

“Master Wang truly possesses skill. I heard that ten years ago, he passed through Huizhou and met a young man surnamed Lin. After a quick divination, he felt a karmic bond with him. Observing his face, he sensed the man’s lifespan was nearly spent. The man begged Master Wang to extend his life, pleading endlessly. Finally, Master Wang gave him a solution.”

“What solution?”

“The Flying Mountain ahead,” said one scholar. “Master Wang told him to go there, saying it held wonders. If he could encounter its marvels and enter the immortal’s abode, he was to bring a flask of fine wine and several dishes, enter the mountain by day, and if he saw two playing weiqi, serve them wine and food. If anyone asked him, he was only to kneel and beg—without speaking.”

“The man went. Every day he brought food and wine, waiting on the Flying Mountain—and indeed, he entered the immortal realm and saw two playing weiqi.”

“He followed Master Wang’s instructions, serving wine and offering food.”

“Both were elderly. One noticed him but ignored him; the other was utterly absorbed in the game. Both drank when wine came, ate when food arrived, and paid him no mind.”

“Later, a child brought tea. Seeing him there, he asked where he came from and why he was there. The man, as Master Wang had instructed, said nothing—only knelt and bowed his head.”

Not only the scholar’s companions listened intently; all other passengers were captivated.

Even Lin Jue, his junior sister, Fuyao, and Xiao Hua listened closely.

Only Master Wang sat motionless, face rigid.

“And then?”

“An old man with white hair and beard said: ‘Though his heart was impure, his arrival here shows karmic connection. He brought wine and food—this is courtesy. How could I not show kindness?’ He ordered the child to pluck a single immortal fruit from the mountain and give it to him. After eating it, he lived until today.”

“Amazing! Truly wondrous, stirring the soul. Do you think if we went to the Flying Mountain, we’d get such fortune?”

“Who can say?”

“If only we could meet it!”

Lin Jue and his junior sister turned to look at Master Wang.

Fuyao and Xiao Hua turned as well, fixing him with identical, unwavering stares.

“Master, Auntie, that man was a descendant of the Lin family of Shu Village. I met him and felt a karmic bond. I couldn’t refuse his persistent pleas, so I combined tales I’d heard from you two—about the Flying Mountain, the Yuanqiu Immortal Realm, the Yuanqiu fruit, and the Heavenly Old Man playing weiqi—and gave him that advice.” Wang Ran confessed, ashamed. “I never imagined it would actually work.”

“Master Wang, what a clever scheme,” Lin Jue said with a smile.

“Master Wang, what a clever scheme!” his junior sister echoed.

The two girls beside them exchanged glances and chimed in:

“Master Wang, what a clever scheme!”

“Master Wang, what a clever scheme!”

This left Master Wang speechless.

But the three scholars ahead had not finished.

Perhaps because of the mist-shrouded, moonlit river, tales of divine marvels without demonic terror were perfectly suited. The three grew enthusiastic, and even the passengers and boatmen listened with rapt attention, urging them on.

Another recounted: “Decades ago, the emperor fell ill and summoned a famed wandering physician named Zhuang Jinwei.”

This physician’s healing methods were uncanny—not mortal arts, but seemingly divine. The emperor distrusted him, suspecting a charlatan, and decided to test him. He killed a goose, buried it in the garden, built a small hut with a bed and table, placed a woman’s shoes and clothes atop it, and ordered the physician to examine it.

The emperor told him: “This is the grave of a woman who died long ago. If you can say what illness killed her, how old she was, and when she died, I will believe you.”

But the physician said nothing upon inspection.

The emperor pressed him urgently. Finally, he spoke: “I saw no woman by the grave—only a large goose. My master lived nearly three hundred years and became an immortal; he met the founding emperor of our dynasty and deemed him a hero. His descendant, the current emperor, would not deceive me with jests. So I waited here to observe.”

The emperor was deeply ashamed.

“Master, Auntie, that man was a disciple of Senior Brother, specializing in medicine,” Wang Ran told them.

“We remember.”

As they spoke, the boat advanced, cutting through the mist, arriving at the Flying Mountain ferry.

By this era, though strange events still occasionally surfaced from the mountain, few believed the tale that it had flown through the sky from the southwest to its present location.

The thick fog suddenly parted, revealing an immortal mountain.

The mountain soared into the clouds, draped with a waterfall like a silken ribbon. The moon, behind it, revealed half its face, half hidden.

Some passengers, new to the area, marveled that in Huizhou, besides Yishan, such a divine peak existed. But the locals and boatmen, seeing this sight, dropped their oars and luggage in shock.