Chapter 90: Daoists Compete for Immortality (Requesting Monthly Tickets)

“Master Miaolin? Lin Jue, Qingyao!”

The first to recognize them was Daoist Qingxuan, who had been severely seasick and barely able to walk, but upon seeing them, he perked up immediately and bowed:

“May the Daoist show mercy!”

Qiyun Mountain was one of the Four Sacred Peaks of the Talisman Sect, and its conduct was always proper; as soon as Daoist Qingxuan bowed, all the other Daoists behind him—regardless of age—bowed in return, many of them with white beards and hair.

The woman surnamed Jiang was among them.

“May the Daoist show mercy.”

The three returned the bow, then bowed to the others as well.

“Daoist Qingxuan, Daoist Jiang,” Lin Jue said, “you took the water route too? What a coincidence to meet you here.”

“Fate,” Daoist Jiang Ning nodded.

“Yes, truly fate!” Daoist Qingxuan was far more enthusiastic, his face twisting with discomfort as he spoke, “But this water route is so bumpy—it’s like sitting on a rocking chair, utterly unbearable.”

“We had it worse—we encountered a water demon on the way.” Lin Jue had a favorable impression of this Daoist and felt a certain familiarity.

“A water demon? What happened?”

“We wounded it and drove it off.”

“Good you weren’t hurt,” Daoist Qingxuan sighed in relief. “Are you three heading straight to Mingchou Mountain?”

“Yes.”

“Join us! Join us!”

Lin Jue looked at his third master.

“Naturally, that’s fine.”

His third master agreed readily.

Compared to Fuxiu Temple’s three, Xuantian Temple had sent over twenty people, half of whom were elderly Daoists with full beards, including Xuantian Temple’s abbot, Master Lingqing.

After all, this was a Talisman Sect ritual, primarily meant to honor deities—the Talisman Sect was the main invitee; Fuxiu Temple, a Spirit Method temple, was merely tagging along for the occasion.

Most Xuantian Daoists carried long swords or wooden swords and carried satchels with musical instruments; only a few elderly ones held fly-whisks, exuding an aura of immortality. Surprisingly, the pale-skinned female Daoist named Jiang Ning also held a fly-whisk—clearly, her status was high.

As they walked, his third master chatted with Daoist Qingxuan, while Lin Jue focused his gaze on the lead figure, Master Lingqing.

This was a genuine True Person.

But a Talisman Sect True Person.

The Talisman Sect differed from the Spirit Method Sect; today, the Talisman Sect followed the Great Dao, and becoming a “True Person” was far easier. Combined with their different cultivation methods, Talisman Sect True Persons were nearly equivalent to guaranteed slots—nearly every abbot of the Four Sacred Peaks was a True Person, and upon completing sufficient merit, they would naturally ascend to immortality after death.

With Spirit Method True Persons now in seclusion and Golden Core cultivation in the Alchemy Sect nearly impossible, they were almost the only True Persons left in the world. When people spoke of True Persons, they usually meant these very ones.

Yet in life, they possessed little that was extraordinary.

As for after death…

Ascending to immortality was easier, so its value naturally diminished.

At least, after these Talisman Sect True Persons ascended, aside from the founding ancestors who established sects or those who had rendered immense merit to the people, the rest were rarely seen in ordinary temples, and their names were seldom spoken among the common folk—proof that while they could ascend, their status in heaven was limited. Many ancient legends of True Persons, in fact, belonged to the Spirit Method Sect, for their True Persons could truly slay great demons and exterminate evil gods, and even before heavenly lords, they could speak with calm confidence.

This Master Lingqing ahead was said to have high virtue and cultivation; at least he looked white-haired yet youthful, his face flushed with health, his steps brisk, radiating an unmistakable aura of immortality.

Could he possibly ascend to immortality after death? Could he achieve eternal life?

Lin Jue couldn’t help but wonder.

As if sensing the gaze behind him, Master Lingqing turned his head, glanced at Lin Jue, and smiled warmly.

Lin Jue immediately nodded in return.

He must have some extraordinary qualities after all.

Of course—such True Persons held high status in the Talisman Sect, and since the Talisman Sect acted as divine emissaries, they surely had protective deities guarding them day and night.

That was good—it would make the journey smoother.

Along the way, they spoke of the demon-slaying in Yixian and the water demon they’d encountered en route, until they reached Mingchou Mountain.

This was another bamboo mountain, which made Lin Jue feel a certain familiarity; the bamboo groves were hung with many five-colored ribbons. The mountain wasn’t very high, and the summit revealed temple buildings and numerous newly built bamboo huts, with one area entirely covered in five-colored cloth—likely the main ritual ground.

Many Daoists waited below the mountain to greet them.

Upon seeing the Qiyun Mountain Daoists arrive, a group rushed forward, bowing immediately to Master Lingqing and exchanging greetings.

Fuxiu Temple’s three wore robes slightly different in color from Xuantian Temple’s; a young Daoist acolyte came forward, learned they were from Yishan’s Fuxiu Temple, and respectfully invited them up the mountain.

“Master Miaolin, Daoist Lin, Daoist Qingyao,” Daoist Qingxuan smiled, “we’re staying with the Yanxia Temple Daoists—if you have free time, come by for tea, just pick a break in the ritual.”

“Until we meet again.”

“Farewell.”

The group bowed and parted.

“Please follow me.”

The Yanxia Temple acolyte gestured.

The path up the mountain was paved with blue stone slabs, far easier to walk than the trail up Fuxiu Peak on Yishan. The mountain wasn’t tall; bamboo huts lined both ascent and descent, along with pavilions and shelters of unknown age.

The path was already crowded.

Some wore Daoist robes; others looked like eccentric martial artists; still others resembled high-ranking officials or nobles.

The acolyte led them to a bamboo hut.

“So many have come, lodging is tight—many pilgrims and devotees must stay below. Please bear with us and share this hut for now. If we need you, we’ll come here to fetch you.” The young acolyte spoke politely, his eyes curious as he looked at them. “We’ll bring meals every morning and evening.”

“Thank you.”

“I must be off—many duties await.”

“Take care, young Daoist.”

In this ritual, the Talisman Sect and Spirit Method Sect differed greatly in duties and workload; Xuantian Temple and Fuxiu Temple naturally didn’t stay together.

Xuantian Temple’s Daoists were the most honored guests, staying atop in Yanxia Temple, eating and living alongside Yanxia Daoists, participating fully in the rituals and labor. Fuxiu Temple’s Daoists were not so privileged—just having a bamboo hut near the mountain’s upper reaches was already considered significant attention.

“This ritual includes burning incense, opening the altar, fetching water, raising banners, proclaiming edicts, purifying impurities… I can’t recall them all—basically, the whole process of inviting and sending off the holy.” His third master spoke as he stepped into the bamboo hut.

“So what do we do?”

“Likely the same as last year at Qiyun Mountain—we’ll be summoned during the purification rite, and the lead True Person will speak to us about the state of the world, the people’s hardships, and ask us to help subdue demons and eliminate evil. Then, after sending off the holy, we’ll be summoned again to discuss the demon-slaying in detail.” His third master sighed. “Ah, it’s all my responsibility—you two can wander freely. Treat it like a different kind of temple fair.”

“Good, good…”

Spirit Method Daoists were all idle folk—they couldn’t even manage daily worship, let alone these troublesome tasks.

Leaving it to the third master was perfect.

Lin Jue looked up, studying the bamboo hut closely.

A wooden plaque hung at the entrance, marked with Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches. Though just a bamboo hut, it wasn’t small. Inside, a table and several cushions stood near the entrance; on either side were sleeping areas, each with a bed and simple blue cloth curtains for privacy.

The weather wasn’t cold, so only thin quilts were provided.

“Just one grand ritual, yet so many bamboo huts built—I wonder if this is wasteful or if it’s just giving work and wages to the laborers and farmers below.” His third master shook his head. “You and I will take the left side, little sister, you sleep on the right. Make do.”

“Okay!”

The little sister replied obediently, diligently hauling the bamboo basket from behind the donkey master into the hut.

“We must guard our belongings. Even here at Mingchou Mountain’s grand ritual, many martial artists aren’t afraid of Daoists. There are always thieves.” His third master said. “You two can go explore now. We’ll go out tomorrow—see if you can trade for something or find something interesting.”

“Understood.”

Indeed, many martial artists weren’t afraid of Daoists.

One reason was that most Daoists in the world were Talisman Sect, rarely practicing Spirit Methods or spells, perhaps only training swordplay; deities rarely interfered in human affairs, so these Daoists couldn’t match martial artists. Another reason: the Spirit Method Sect was now in decline, and many of its Daoists were weak, unable to stand against warriors who specialized in killing techniques.

Besides, there was even the saying that some martial artists entered the Dao through martial prowess.

“Ah, just a sip…”

His third master had already lain down on the bed.

“Little sister, I want to go for a walk,” Lin Jue asked. “Will you come?”

“Yes!”

The little sister always followed wherever her brother went—no hesitation at all.

“Remember to bring silver,” his third master called from the bed. “Remember the way. Don’t get lost.”

“Understood.”

The little sister took her long sword.

Lin Jue thought a moment, decided carrying a broadsword was too flashy and martial, and took a simple iron sword instead.

Both looked young, dressed in Daoist robes, each carrying a long sword, with a fox trailing behind them—they now carried a certain ethereal air.

“Fuyao, you’re in charge of remembering the way—don’t let us get lost.”

“Mmm~”

A narrow path wound through the mountain’s bamboo grove.

The path wasn’t newly built—it had existed long before, clearly connecting to some part of the mountain.

Lin Jue judged the direction and turned left.

The left side felt livelier.

Sure enough, the path widened; the bamboo grove had been cleared into open spaces, and many Daoists had been settled here, some wandering, others chatting by the roadside. Many Daoists glanced curiously at the two youths and the fox trailing them.

Lin Jue walked slowly, observing everything around him.

On the left, an open area held several stone tables and chairs; two middle-aged Daoists sat drinking tea, arguing.

“In ancient times, myths were countless—filling the sky, chasing the sun, smashing mountains, severing rivers—so ancient deities must have had power over heaven and earth. What’s there to argue about?” one Daoist frowned.

“That’s incorrect,” the other Daoist said, lifting his tea cup but not drinking, shaking his head. “Ancient myths were indeed countless, and these tales were passed down through generations—but they were never written in texts, often vague and illogical. Believable? Yes. Fully credible? No.”

“What is your view, Daoist?”

“I believe these are merely methods by which immortals govern the Three Realms—do you not see how earthly emperors constantly embellish their own legitimacy? Are they truly sons of heaven, true dragons? Deities exaggerate their cultivation ages and magical powers too! How else would they gather incense offerings and attract followers? Besides, legends always grow distorted over time and with each retelling.”

“How dare you speak such words here?”

“Why not? If a deity is this petty, what kind of example is that?” said the Daoist serving tea with a smile.

“In any case, I cannot agree with that…”

“Don’t be so attached to those legends—do you truly believe the Heavenly Old Man attained his status after enduring one thousand seven hundred and fifty kalpas, each lasting one hundred twenty-nine thousand six hundred years? Where would there be such vast time?”

“This…”

“If one statement is false, then all are false.”

The Daoist holding the cup affirmed firmly:

“Though human cultivators find it increasingly difficult to practice spiritual arts, and fewer and fewer achieve true enlightenment, as time passes, the world’s spells and supernatural powers grow ever more numerous and their forces ever stronger—so too must the immortals of heaven. Today’s deities must surpass those of antiquity… Come to think of it, in ancient times, many became immortals merely by swallowing a Single Ascension Pill. How could their spells and powers possibly rival those of later immortals who attained enlightenment through arduous cultivation?”

“Not so, not so—your view is based on a single fragment and ignores the whole; it is far too biased…”

Lin Jue and his junior sister paused nearby, eavesdropping; their glances frequently met, exchanging insights and judgments on the words they heard, as well as the illicit thrill of eavesdropping.

Sometimes they reached out to pluck at a nearby bamboo stalk, pretending they had something to do.

Unfortunately, before they could settle the argument, a Daoist from Yanxia Temple passed by with a guest, overhearing their remarks about the deities they devoutly worshipped. He could not offend his guest, so he merely halted beside them and cast them a pained look.

The two burst into laughter, and their conversation ended.

Lin Jue and his junior sister exchanged glances, both filled with regret.

Though Lin Jue disagreed with several points made by the two Daoists, the very act of such debate was fascinating—even if he understood nothing, he still found it intriguing. After all, when three walk together, one of them must be my teacher; surely some of their words held seeds of inspiration for him.

This casual atmosphere of Daoists debating immortality lent a sense of airy freedom.

Thus, upon arriving at the Grand Altar, Lin Jue felt deeply pleased.

His junior sister cast him a questioning look.

“Let’s go!”

Lin Jue smiled and stepped forward.

His spirits light, his steps swift.

His junior sister hurried after him, sword in hand, the motion stirring the bamboo leaves beside the path.