Chapter 432: The Waterfall Flows Back Three Thousand Feet

Wudang is the holy land of the Daoist Canon from the previous dynasty, firmly holding a position above Longhu Mountain; after the founding of the Liyang Dynasty, they promoted Longhu and suppressed Wudang, which is how Longhu Mountain became the ancestral court of the Daoist Canon.

Although Wudang Mountain has been silent for several hundred years, no one dares to underestimate the thousand-year foundation of this mountain.

Although the current sect leader Wang Zhonglou does not occupy a seat among the top ten experts, it is rumored that back then, a single "Immortal Pointing the Way" split the entire surging Canglan River.

Whether it is hearsay or exaggeration, he is ultimately a highly respected old Daoist immortal, especially since he cultivates the most obscure and time-consuming Great Huangting of the Daoist Canon, which gives the entire Wudang Mountain a long-lasting aura where silence speaks louder than words.

Since Wudang is on Beiliang territory, it naturally has to maintain a good relationship with the Beiliang Prince Mansion.

And so, the Prince, Xu Fengnian, has come to Wudang Mountain to study martial arts and practice the saber.

Regarding this notorious Beiliang Heir, I fear that apart from a few people like the young grand-uncle-master, there are not many on Wudang who truly like him.

The Prince is not alone; he also brought a man and a woman. The man is dressed in black and is extraordinarily handsome. The woman is in a fluttering white dress, like a spirit of the mountains.

It is said that they are Murong Tonghuang, who "broke three thousand armored cavalry with one hand," and his younger sister, Murong Wuzhu.

These two have a presence that is truly too outstanding, and Murong Tonghuang's reputation now chases directly after Deng Taie and Cao Guanzi, attracting many gazes along the way.

But compared to Murong Wuzhu, he seems to be a notch behind.

Wudang Mountain is almost like a paradise, isolated from the hustle and bustle of the world; although they know of Murong Tonghuang's existence, they do not feel he is all that formidable.

There are mostly young Daoist acolytes on this mountain who have never seen the world; when have they ever seen such a peerless beauty as Murong Wuzhu? They were all so infatuated that they even forgot to meditate.

Fortunately, this Miss Murong rarely appears on Wudang Mountain, otherwise, who knows how many young Daoist acolytes would have their palms beaten red.

"Grand-uncle-master, why are there so many riddles, drinking games, and poems in this book? If one person thought of all this, how much learning must that person have? It's almost comparable to you, Grand-uncle-master, right?"

Behind the "Xuan Wudang Heart" archway, several mischievous sweeping acolytes from a nearby Daoist temple were squatting. And surrounded at the very center by this group of acolytes was a young Daoist with a refined and elegant appearance.

Don't let the Daoist's young age fool you; his seniority is ridiculously high. He is the junior fellow apprentice of the sect leader Wang Zhonglou, and apart from a few people, the rest of the disciples must call him "Uncle-master" or "Grand-uncle-master" when they see him.

The young Daoist has a very good reputation on the mountain and is approachable. Sometimes when he tells love stories from books, the nearby sweeping acolytes would sneak out even if it meant being beaten by their masters with a paddle.

The one asking the question now is a young acolyte who has only been on Wudang Mountain for less than two years; he is fair-skinned and rosy-lipped, and very spirited. In his experience, the grand-uncle-master is the most learned person.

"Nonsense, how could the person who wrote this book be as learned as the grand-uncle-master?"

A slightly older acolyte who had joined the mountain earlier gave him a rap on the head, his face stern. The disciplined young acolyte clutched his head, not daring to retort.

The young Daoist rubbed the head of the youngest acolyte, his smile warm: "If the person who wrote this book were to debate the principles of the Daoist Canon with me, they would likely not win. But when it comes to these matters of love, I am a hundred thousand miles behind. Just like the person on the mountain a few days ago—when it comes to killing and warfare, there are few in this world who can compare to him. This is the principle that every trade has its master."

"Grand-uncle-master, the sect leader can split a river with one finger; do you think the sect leader could beat that person on the mountain?" the disciplined young acolyte asked again.

The other acolytes also looked over, their eyes shining, clearly very concerned about this answer.

"I reckon he couldn't beat him."

The young Daoist touched his chin, his gaze looking toward the direction of White Elephant Pool.

The group of acolytes immediately showed expressions of disappointment.

The young Daoist patted their heads and said with a smile: "That person on the mountain is destined to be the best in the world in the future, so we people outside the secular world shouldn't compete."

One acolyte fidgeted and said: "The female lay practitioner who came up the mountain with Lay Practitioner Murong... she is so beautiful. Of all the believers who come up and down the mountain, none are as beautiful as her."

Although the other acolytes blushed, they also began to praise her one after another, saying she was peerless in heaven and on earth.

The young Daoist's eyes flickered, and a smile rose at the corners of his mouth, as if he had caught sight of a figure in red: "There is one."

"Grand-uncle-master, what did you say..."

"Nothing."

Wudang Mountain has many places with beautiful scenery. For thousands of years, countless people seeking immortality and the Dao have retired to Wudang, either sitting in oblivion on cliffs or hiding in immortal coffins, listening to the Sanskrit sounds and immortal music, watching the mist rise and the green mountains and clear waters, leaving behind countless legends.

At this moment, the Beiliang Heir was carrying his saber toward the highly renowned White Elephant Pool. The sound of the waterfall hitting the rocks grew more intense, each sound like muffled thunder, and there was a large rock protruding in the middle of the pool.

Xu Fengnian stood firm and slashed with all his might. The moment the Beiliang Saber touched the waterfall, it immediately flew out of his hand, and a large bloody gash split open on his palm.

This Beiliang Heir did not cry out in pain; he grinned, retrieved his saber, and slashed again, only to have the same result of the saber being flung away.

Regardless of this Beiliang Heir struggling with the waterfall, there was also a young man in black standing by the White Elephant Pool, extraordinarily handsome, standing with his hands behind his back, looking into the distance. Through layers of space, his gaze was fixed squarely on the young grand-uncle-master of Wudang Mountain.

This person was naturally Yu Liancheng.

Xu Fengnian was sent to Wudang Mountain to practice the saber, but in reality, it was to receive the Great Huangting from Wang Zhonglou, and Yu Liancheng had come to pay a visit while he was at it.

Although this Wudang Mountain has declined, a lean camel is still bigger than a horse, and there are actually quite a few First-Rank Experts.

Of course, there are only a few who can garner Yu Liancheng's attention.

For instance, the sect leader Wang Zhonglou, the "Sword Idiot" Wang Xiaoping, and the young grand-uncle-master Hong Xixiang not far away.

The sect leader Wang Zhonglou has the cultivation of the Heavenly Phenomenon Realm and possesses the Great Huangting, but unfortunately, he is about to pass his cultivation to Xu Fengnian and does not have long to live. Wang Xiaoping is indeed a talent for the Sword Dao, but he is still a bit green.

And this grand-uncle-master Hong Xixiang, who rides his ox backward, is even more extraordinary.

His previous incarnation was Lv Zu, Lv Dongxuan, the undisputed number one person of the last five hundred years, whose existence symbolizes the peak of the human world.

Afterward, he was reincarnated as the previous generation's sect leader of Longhu Mountain, Qi Xuanzheng, a Land Celestial who was both scholarly and martial, but it is a pity he never compared himself with Wang Laoguai of Wudi City, otherwise the title of number one in the world would not have remained vacant.

And this incarnation, Hong Xixiang of Wudang, is also a brilliant talent; once he attained enlightenment, he became a Land Celestial. The reason for his multiple reincarnations was nothing more than a love for a woman in red for eight hundred years, just to cultivate the right path for his beloved.

"What a pity for such a brilliant talent..."

Yu Liancheng shook his head. This world is full of experts, and many peerless talents have emerged one after another.

But the true practitioners who forge ahead are only a few, such as Wang Xianzhi of Wudi City and the Peach Blossom Sword God Deng Taie.

For example, the likes of Tuoba Pusa and the Sword Emperor of Western Shu bind their own destiny to their country, and even those as brilliant as Li Chungang and Hong Xixiang are trapped by romantic love. Once their state of mind becomes unstable, their cultivation realm could plummet.

Of course, you are not the fish, how would you know the joy of the fish?

Everyone has a different path, and Yu Liancheng does not have the leisure to point fingers.

"Heavenly Venerable Murong."

Xu Fengnian's voice sounded from behind.

Hearing this kid call out so earnestly, one knew he was definitely up to no good.

"Speak your mind." Yu Liancheng turned his head to see Xu Fengnian wrapping his saber with cloth to ensure it wouldn't fly out when slashing at the waterfall.

Xu Fengnian lowered his head to tighten the cloth strip with his teeth, chuckled, and said: "Wang Zhonglou could split the Canglan River with two fingers; with your cultivation, Heavenly Venerable, wouldn't splitting a waterfall be easy?"

The Canglan River is the largest river in the Northern Territory; rumor has it that it was once split open by a single finger of the Wudang Mountain sect leader, Wang Zhonglou. Xu Fengnian originally thought it was just a legend, something only those who had never seen the world would believe. Later, after verification, it turned out there was indeed no such thing as splitting the Canglan with one finger—it was two fingers.

Upon learning this news, the Prince spat out a mouthful of tea.

Is he even human?

Yu Liancheng glanced indifferently at Xu Fengnian and waved his hand, signaling the Prince to move aside.

Xu Fengnian stepped aside, and just as he was wondering what exactly Yu Liancheng was about to do, he saw the other man clench his fist and throw a punch from afar toward the waterfall.

Not to mention the distance of seven or eight zhang between them, just looking at this light, fluttering punch, it seemed like something even a frail scholar could pull off; what kind of power could it possibly have?

Then, Xu Fengnian witnessed a scene that left him dumbfounded.

The waterfall cascaded down like a galaxy, carrying the force of ten million jun as it crashed down, sounding like thunder and splashing water droplets like jade—a magnificent sight.

Yet under this punch, the inverted waterfall was actually severed at the waist, as if snapped in the middle by an invisible giant hand.

Then, a scene that left Xu Fengnian even more slack-jawed occurred.

The upper section of the waterfall actually rolled backward, the water surging against the current, rising ten zhang, a hundred zhang... as if transforming into a water dragon soaring straight into the nine heavens.

The young grand-uncle, Wang Zhonglou, Wang Xiaoping, and others seemed to sense it; they looked up at this strange spectacle, truly magnificent.

The water crashed down from the sky into the pool with a boom once more, and it took Xu Fengnian a long while to come back to his senses.

He swallowed his saliva, not even noticing that his clothes were soaked through, and muttered to himself: "This technical skill is too overbearing; there's no way to tip for it."

The young grand-uncle sent away a few young Daoist acolytes, then saw a group of elderly pilgrims from Yongzhou; he immediately stood up to help carry their luggage, wearing a smile and acting honest and simple all the way.

Walking slowly up the mountain, they arrived at the entrance of the Xuanwu Hall on Great Lotus Peak.

There were few pilgrims; the young Daoist stood under a thousand-year-old camphor tree, watching from afar as the pilgrims held incense to worship in all directions, finally tossing them into the giant incense burner.

The young Daoist kept a smile on his face the whole time, greeted the pilgrims, and then carefully took out a Daoist Canon with "Lingyuan Great Dao Song" written on the cover. Just as he intended to read while walking, he sensed something, turned around, and saw that there was one more figure in black.

This figure stood with his back to him, head slightly raised, as if gazing at the statue of the True Martial Great Emperor inside the hall.

The statue was several zhang tall, with disheveled hair and bare feet, wearing golden chainmail, stepping on a Xuanwu, magnificent and awe-inspiring, as if suppressing all Demons.

The black shadow stood before the statue, clearly much shorter, yet seemed equal, just as tall.

The figure in black turned his head and smiled; wasn't he the very person who had made the waterfall flow backward earlier?

PS: Seeking monthly tickets, it's the last day for double monthly tickets. Chapter 36, "Encountering the Divine Beast," has been revised. I'll still be careful with the older sister's arc; I dare not be reckless.