Chapter 27: Centralized Instruction

Xiang Weiyuan turned around and saw a burly cultivator standing not far off, nine feet tall, two heads taller than an ordinary man, with a thick short beard and an imposing bearing. He led a boy who had just stepped down from the Immortal Vessel.

The cultivator’s eyes blazed like lightning; when Xiang Weiyuan met his gaze, he felt as if struck by thunder, and something invisible within him stirred restlessly.

A flicker of surprise passed through the cultivator’s eyes, then he dimmed his radiant gaze and said, “You’ve asked a question that has stumped humanity for millennia. Few have ever answered it, and those who could had no wish to. If you truly seek it, remember this question—and find your own answer through your cultivation journey. This is my grandson, Xiang Xiaoyu. If you’re willing, the two of you should support each other on the Immortal Path; perhaps you’ll both go farther.”

The cultivator lifted the boy and set him before Xiang Weiyuan. Both boys instinctively turned their heads away, refusing to look at each other.

The boy was exquisitely beautiful—the very same Xiang Xiaoyu who had slashed at Xiang Weiyuan hundreds of times without effect, only to be cut clean in half by a single spear. Xiang Weiyuan recalled how he had slaughtered the boy, leaving him utterly humiliated, and now faced the victim, he felt a pang of guilt.

The burly cultivator slapped the boy on the head. “Bow to your senior!”

The boy stared at the side, stubbornly saying, “He’s not even older than me!”

The cultivator slapped him again. “You can’t beat him now—so you call him senior!”

The boy asked, “What if I beat him someday?”

The cultivator paused. “Then you may decide for yourself.”

The boy finally turned, his eyes fixed straight on Xiang Weiyuan’s chest, avoiding direct contact, and said stiffly, “Xiang Xiaoyu greets you, Senior.”

Xiang Weiyuan hurriedly returned the bow. “Xiang Weiyuan—I cannot accept such a title from you, Xiaoyu.”

The burly cultivator waved impatiently. “Enough with the formalities. Just remember the question you asked today—and don’t turn out like your masters and ancestors.”

Zhang Sheng frowned. “What fault do my master and I have? Please be explicit, Elder!”

The burly cultivator laughed. “Do you not know your own sect’s reputation? Every last one of you is arrogant, self-righteous, pretending to stand above factional strife—yet in the end, you serve only yourselves. You’ve ignored the world for six years—I won’t waste words on you.”

The cultivator seized Xiang Xiaoyu and strode toward the distant hall. One step forward—and he vanished from sight.

Then a girl approached, bowing gracefully to Zhang Sheng. “Greetings, Master Zhang Sheng.”

The girl was stunningly beautiful, her voice melodious, and she showed proper respect to elders—Zhang Sheng took great liking to her and replied warmly, “The Bao family has always produced talent; this generation seems destined to surpass the last.”

The girl bowed again. “To earn your praise eases my heart—I knew joining the Tai Chu Palace was the right choice.”

Zhang Sheng noticed a faint golden glow flickering at her third eye, and suddenly recalled something. “Wait—I heard the Bao family’s current generation inherited the Great Pure Land Dharma Form. Could it be you?”

The girl replied, “The Pure Land Dharma Form is merely an external tool. Since I’ve entered the Tai Chu Palace, I have no lack of enlightened masters, nor will I spare effort—I will surely cultivate a Dharma Form within a century equal to, if not greater than, the Pure Land legacy. The Immortal Path is long; the Dharma Form is but one step along the way—not worth clinging to.”

The Buddhist Dharma Forms, passed down through generations, were universally acknowledged as the most powerful in the world. For her to discard it so easily—and speak such words—filled Zhang Sheng with quiet admiration.

The girl turned to Xiang Weiyuan. “Since we’re fellow disciples of the same cohort, I’ll surely need your guidance in the future.”

“Of course!” Zhang Sheng immediately pulled Xiang Weiyuan forward and placed him before the girl. “Xiang Weiyuan, meet Bao Yun, your senior sister!”

Xiang Weiyuan turned his head away, unwilling to look at Bao Yun. Zhang Sheng slapped him. “Where are you looking?”

Xiang Weiyuan gritted his teeth and bowed. “Xiang Weiyuan greets you, junior sister.”

Zhang Sheng slapped him again. “Rude! Say ‘senior sister!’”

Xiang Weiyuan muttered, “Xiang Weiyuan greets you, senior sister.”

Bao Yun’s clear eyes fixed on Xiang Weiyuan, making him deeply uneasy, before she covered her mouth and laughed. “I’ll surely need your guidance in the future, junior brother.”

The expressionless old man behind Bao Yun said, “The hour is near—we should enter.”

Zhang Sheng checked the time, then took Xiang Weiyuan’s arm and stepped into the hall.

Inside the hall, dozens of Daoist attendants bustled about. As Xiang Weiyuan entered, he sensed movement behind him, turned—and saw another Immortal Vessel land on the square. One by one, new disciples disembarked: more newcomers had arrived.

A Daoist attendant hurried over and smiled at Zhang Sheng. “Brother Zhang, long time no see! I heard you took on an exceptional disciple—your own brilliance reborn! Congratulations!”

Zhang Sheng returned the smile. The attendant scrutinized Xiang Weiyuan carefully, then said, “This must be Xiang Weiyuan—I hear he’s brought great honor to the True Lord! Brother Zhang, you know the initiation rites well—I won’t repeat them. Three days from now, when all provincial disciples arrive, we’ll hold the Ancestral Worship Ceremony. But this year, there’s an added step: after worship, you must choose your study method. Will you opt for individual instruction or centralized instruction?”

Zhang Sheng frowned. “What is centralized instruction?”

The attendant explained, “In the past, new disciples were taught separately by each hall. This year, Zhen Jun Yan Shi proposed consolidating universal subjects—basic cultivation principles, human history, Dao foundations—into unified lessons taught by selected masters of virtue and talent. Specialized techniques will still be taught individually by each hall. That is centralized instruction. This is the first year, so new disciples may choose whether to join.”

“The Dingxin faction is moving fast,” Zhang Sheng muttered.

The attendant did not answer. “You may decide after the Ancestral Worship. I’ll register your names first, then take you to your quarters.”

The attendant raised his jade scroll and shone it upon Xiang Weiyuan. Instantly, the page filled with his portrait, origin, and lineage. After recording the details, the attendant led Zhang Sheng and Xiang Weiyuan out of the hall, then swept his sleeve—a cloud of qi enveloped them.

Xiang Weiyuan felt the scenery blur and flash past, faster than a flying arrow, far quicker than even the legendary galloping steeds.

After roughly a quarter-hour, the attendant ended the technique. Before Xiang Weiyuan appeared a tranquil valley, where several streams meandered and quiet courtyards dotted the landscape in small clusters.

Directly before Xiang Weiyuan stood three adjacent small courtyards, surrounded by towering, ancient trees—each heavy with fruit.

Xiang Weiyuan followed the attendant into the left courtyard. “This is your residence,” the attendant said. “You’ll live here until you forge your Dao Foundation. All new disciple supplies are already inside—take what you need. Your master knows the palace rules, so I won’t repeat them. The mountain map is on the desk inside, marking areas you may enter. Brother Zhang, shall I briefly explain centralized instruction now?”

(End of Chapter)