The group of four traversed the golden persimmon grove of Little Lotus Peak, arriving near the turtle-borne stele at the summit. Commissioned by the early Dafeng Dynasty, the stele bore the inscription *Imperial Edict: The Great Sacred Mountain, Ancestral Court of Daoism*, a testament to Wudang Mountain’s glory centuries past. Its colossal size was unparalleled in the world.
Among the four visitors, the sole woman held a ripe persimmon in her hand as she stood beneath the stele, tilting her head to read the inscription. The other three men stood shoulder to shoulder at the cliff’s edge, gazing at the scenery below. The eldest, a saber hanging at his waist, stood in the center. To his left was a gaunt swordsman with a longsword strapped to his back, and to his right, an elegant Confucian scholar with temples frosted white.
When the beautiful woman casually turned her head, she saw something strange—only one figure remained at the cliff’s edge. The swordsman and the saber-wielder had retreated dozens of steps, now standing not far from her.
She approached the two elders and softly asked the saber-bearing old man, “Grandpa Mao, what’s Uncle Cheng doing?”
The three of them were none other than Lin Hongyuan, the young mistress of the Southern Dragon Palace; Mao Shulang, the foremost saber master of the south; and Ji Liu’an, a grandmaster of the sword path.
Mao Shulang, his brows and hair snow-white, lowered his voice and said succinctly, “An opportunity.”
Such cryptic words left Lin Hongyuan puzzled. She turned her questioning gaze to Ji Liu’an, the Dragon Palace’s chief guest elder, who hesitated before whispering, “Old Cheng was once the most refined scholar of the fallen Southern Tang, born into nobility yet indifferent to fame. He spent years traveling the land, burdened by guilt for failing his homeland in its darkest hour. That was when he took up martial arts. Step by step, he climbed the path of cultivation, only to inexplicably stall at the Finger Profound Realm for twenty years. This journey to Liang has been the culmination of his accumulated strength, and now he shows signs of breaking through—much like Cao Changqing of Western Chu or Xuanyuan Jingcheng of Huishan.”
Lin Hongyuan gasped in delight. “Uncle Cheng is finally ascending to the Heavenly Phenom Realm?!”
Mao Shulang, unconcerned with her status as the future Dragon Palace leader or her ties to the Southern Border Prince, snapped, “Silence!”
Lin Hongyuan immediately fell quiet, her cheeks flushing slightly.
Cheng Baishuang stood with his hands behind his back, gazing southward.
The old scholar murmured to himself at the cliff’s edge, *”The body beyond the body—grasping at empty words is like painting cakes to satisfy hunger. The truth within the truth—seeking clarity upon the meditation mat is the only purity.”*
*”Moral writings may perish with the body, but the spirit endures for eternity. Fame and fortune fade with the ages, yet integrity remains unshaken through millennia.”*
*”To live a life without regrets, so that none in the world bear hatred—how absurd!”*
He slowly closed his eyes as the wind whipped at his sleeves.
Then, an anomaly struck. Mao Shulang’s eyes widened as he unsheathed his saber in an instant, darting forward to brush past Cheng Baishuang—who seemed lost in meditation—and halt just a step from the cliff’s edge.
His blade moved soundlessly, yet its aura surged like a radiant crescent moon before him!
Lin Hongyuan gasped as she saw a white-robed figure materialize in midair beyond the cliff, sleeves billowing as she raised two fingers to block Mao Shulang’s saber aura.
The celestial woman was forced back dozens of feet before dissipating the overwhelming force.
She straightened, hovering effortlessly in the void where no foothold existed, the mountain winds howling beneath her and mist swirling at her sides.
Lin Hongyuan’s breath caught—she recognized the uninvited guest. Tantai Pingjing, leader of the Guanyin Sect and foremost of the world’s Qi refiners!
Though often outmaneuvered by the young Prince of Liang in their schemes, Lin Hongyuan was far from foolish. She immediately grasped that Cheng Baishuang’s natural ascent was no mere breakthrough from Finger Profound to Heavenly Phenom.
Mao Shulang, his beard bristling like blades, ignored whether his voice might disrupt Cheng Baishuang’s trance and barked at the white-robed immortal, “If you dare interfere, you’ll answer to my saber first!”
Tantai Pingjing glanced at the oblivious scholar and said flatly, *”How long can a fire burn at its fiercest, or flowers bloom at their brightest?”*
Mao Shulang tightened his grip on the hilt. “I’m just a brute. Spare me your cryptic wisdom!”
Ignoring him, Tantai Pingjing shifted her gaze to Cheng Baishuang. “With such insight, you must know that the world will hold no more than four or five Land Immortals—one each for Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism, and perhaps one or two from the martial world. By forcing your breakthrough now, you’ll remain a hair’s breadth from true immortality and forfeit your chance at becoming a Confucian Sage. Is this not suicide?”
Cheng Baishuang opened his eyes calmly. “Would such a Confucian Sage still be a sage? My forebears once said, *‘If the people fear not death, why threaten them with it?’* Today, I, Cheng Baishuang, crave no immortality—why tempt me with it?”
Tantai Pingjing sneered. “Frogs at the bottom of a well!”
Cheng Baishuang laughed heartily. *”They say able ministers rise in prosperous times, famed generals in chaotic ones, and that poets flourish when the nation suffers. I’ve penned my share of verses, but I refuse to accept such fate! When the country is in peril, a scholar should march to death without regret. Why let warriors claim all the glory?”*
Tantai Pingjing’s voice turned icy. “Die if you wish. My sect’s Moonwell will merely house another Confucian ghost.”
Cheng Baishuang’s laughter boomed. *”Then let it be so—let this generation stand unashamed before the ancients!”*
Silence fell. Tantai Pingjing’s expression remained frosty.
Lin Hongyuan stared in awe at the transcendent woman. Though familiar with Qi refiners—like those serving Prince Yan Zhao Bing—she had never met one as aloof and untouchable as Tantai Pingjing. Unlike Jiang Ni, the rightful Sword Immortal after Wu Su, or Xuanyuan Qingfeng, who dominated the martial world from Snowy Plateau, Tantai Pingjing was ageless, a true immortal who had walked the earth for a century. Lin Hongyuan admired her above all others.
Among her many ambitions was the desire to learn Tantai Pingjing’s secrets of eternal youth—she wished to die beautiful.
But Tantai Pingjing vanished as swiftly as she had come, never sparing Lin Hongyuan a glance.
Ji Liu’an, who had known Cheng Baishuang for decades, asked sorrowfully, “Old Cheng, is it truly as she said?”
Cheng Baishuang nodded without pretense. “My Heavenly Phenom Realm is indeed forced, unsustainable. As for becoming a Confucian Sage—that dream is lost.”
Ji Liu’an sighed deeply.
Cheng Baishuang smiled. *”A scholar’s knowledge must serve a purpose. What use is a hermit sage who shirks the world’s burdens?”*
Ji Liu’an exhaled heavily. “Then I’ll go with you to Liang’s frontier.”
Cheng Baishuang chuckled. “And why would you?”
Ji Liu’an tapped the sword on his back. “This old friend of mine hasn’t yet tasted a Northern Barbarian’s skull.”
Lin Hongyuan’s mind reeled. If Cheng Baishuang—a wanderer with no roots—stayed in Northern Liang, she could explain it away. But if Ji Liu’an, the Dragon Palace’s chief guest elder, remained as well, she’d have a harder time justifying it to Master Nalan.
Mao Shulang sheathed his saber abruptly. “Count me in.”
Lin Hongyuan gaped.
She had arrived with three grandmasters—would she return alone?
Beyond eternal youth, her other ambition was to challenge Xuanyuan Qingfeng and become the second female martial alliance leader of Liyang. Mao Shulang, Cheng Baishuang, and Ji Liu’an were crucial to that goal.
She knew only Master Nalan himself could dissuade them now.
Recalling her recent scheming, she muttered, “Karma’s a bitch.”
Meanwhile, Cheng Baishuang gazed into the distance and suddenly proclaimed, *”The Master said: ‘The three hundred poems may be summed in one phrase—*thoughts without guile*.’”*
The elderly scholar, his temples white, wore a serene smile.
*In youth, thoughts were pure.*
*In twilight years, so they shall remain.*
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage