Souls were extremely light, almost transparent.
Shui Miao observed the place, its reality wavering between truth and illusion, making it difficult to discern authenticity. Yet, his consciousness had become disconnected from his physical body, unable to withdraw from this realm. A wave of panic washed over him—how was he to return? Looking back, he could no longer locate the celestial gate; beneath the clouds and mud lay a solid expanse, without even a crack to be found.
This was bad!
He had to find a way back immediately, or else, if time dragged on, the consequences would be unpredictable.
Shui Miao quickly spread out his spiritual senses, scanning in all directions. To his surprise, his perception extended incredibly far.
In the distant mist, he spotted a tall pavilion!
Without hesitation, Shui Miao flew toward the pavilion. With a mere thought, his soul lifted into the air. The wind roared past his ears, and in the blink of an eye, he arrived before the high terrace. Looking up, he saw a golden plaque above the pavilion, swirling with purple clouds. Within the clouds, faintly visible, were five ancient characters. From the shape of the characters, Shui Miao roughly guessed it read “Thunder Sect’s Sixteen Palaces.”
Yet upon sensing with his spiritual awareness, Shui Miao discovered that the Thunder Sect’s Sixteen Palaces were completely empty—there wasn’t a soul inside.
Flying onto the terrace, he noticed a Bagua (Eight Trigrams) pattern on the ground. At first, he paid it no mind, but as he passed over it, the pattern suddenly shifted. Before he could understand what was happening, Shui Miao found himself in a completely different place. Behind him stood the Thunder Sect’s Sixteen Palaces once more, but now, on either side, a row of identical pavilions stretched out, extending all the way to the Thunder Sect’s Thirty-Six Palaces. In front of him now stood a massive purple celestial gate, flanked by two rows of yellow-turbaned warriors stretching endlessly into the gate. At first glance, they resembled statues, but upon closer inspection, Shui Miao realized they were alive—their eyes even moved.
Each yellow-turbaned warrior stood at least two meters tall, with massive, terrifying muscles, and weighing no less than three hundred pounds.
As a child, Shui Miao had read the classic “Water Margin,” and remembered the Taoist master Luo Zhenren, the teacher of the hero Gongsun Sheng. Luo could summon yellow-turbaned warriors by chanting spells. Shui Miao never imagined he would actually see such beings! His mind couldn’t help but wander—what kind of talisman or incantation did Master Luo use? Why could he command the yellow-turbaned warriors of the Ninth Heaven?
As he pondered, a young Daoist boy dressed in purple robes flew out from within the celestial gate. The boy appeared no older than ten.
The little Daoist boy had delicate, smooth skin, but his eyes were clear and sharp.
He flew directly in front of Shui Miao, gave him a quick glance, and then burst into a soft laugh, covering his mouth with his hand.
Facing the boy, who barely reached his shoulders, Shui Miao dared not be disrespectful. He quickly offered a courteous smile. “Excuse me, Senior Daoist Brother, is there something wrong with my appearance?”
“Haha, it seems you really don’t know. In recent years, few have managed to cultivate themselves into half-immortals without proper guidance,” the little Daoist boy said, lowering his hand and raising an eyebrow. “Try channeling your immortal energy and transform into a human form. This transparent soul doesn’t look very good.”
“This…” Shui Miao felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to change…”
“Haha, you’re really slow! Since you don’t have a master, why don’t you call me Master, and I’ll teach you?” The boy smiled cutely, covering his mouth again.
Shui Miao’s heart stirred, and he quickly bowed deeply. “Master…”
“Ah, ah, ah—”
Seeing that Shui Miao actually called him “Master,” the boy hurriedly stopped him. “You’re too sincere! I just said it as a joke, and you actually took it seriously! I’m only ten years old, I can’t be your master. But since you’re so sincere, I’ll teach you how to change.”
The boy closed his eyes and demonstrated. “Come on, listen carefully. Close your eyes, focus your mind, imagine the form you want to take—what clothes you’re wearing—and then channel your immortal energy, combining the five elemental colors. If you haven’t cultivated much immortal energy, just use the elemental energy you can control to create clothes. Normally, if you’ve cultivated Wood-type energy, your skin will turn green, and you’ll only be able to create green clothes. Similarly, the color you can transform into depends on the elemental energy you’ve cultivated. However, in the Ninth Heaven, the most favored color is purple—symbolizing blessings and fortune. It’s rare for ordinary immortals to manifest it. Try imagining purple, and let me see how much fortune you possess.”
When the boy opened his eyes, he saw Shui Miao standing before him in a purple robe!
“Ah!”
The sight startled the boy. He pointed at Shui Miao in shock. “How did you do that?! Impossible! Impossible! Did you cultivate all seven types of immortal energy—Yin, Yang, and the Five Elements—at once?!”
“Y-yes…”
Seeing the boy’s reaction, Shui Miao grew nervous. He recalled an old saying: “Don’t flaunt your wealth!” This was true in the mortal world, and perhaps even more so in the immortal realm. He certainly didn’t want to be robbed by immortals! He quickly shifted his thoughts and transformed his robe into one similar to the boy’s.
“Why did you change into my style? Wasn’t the purple one just fine?” The boy was taken aback when he saw the change.
Shui Miao smiled awkwardly. “I like this one better now…”
“Oh! I get it—you’re being humble. Haha, you’re really humble!” The boy glanced around, then leaned in close and whispered, “So, do you have a master? If not, I can introduce you to a great immortal?”
The boy looked suspicious, as if he had received a commission from someone.
“That would be wonderful! Brother Daoist, you’re doing me a huge favor. I’ll definitely repay you someday!” Shui Miao had come to the immortal realm to make friends and seek allies to help him deal with the thousand-year-old female ghost. Hearing the boy’s offer, he was naturally overjoyed and quickly bowed gratefully.
“Nonsense! We’re friends now. It’s a small thing, no need to be so polite,” the boy said happily, then affectionately took Shui Miao’s hand. “Come on, since you’re new to the immortal realm, I’ll show you around first. Wait a bit, my younger brother will come soon, and I’ll let him take you to the great immortal. But if you’re not in a hurry, you can wait for me here. I’ll take you myself after I finish work. Oh, and change your purple robe to green, to avoid others competing with me for resources.”
In Shui Miao’s eyes, the little Daoist boy seemed like a small-time matchmaker.
And he had a younger brother! Shui Miao listened carefully to every word the boy spoke, every syllable. He couldn’t help but wonder—was the boy born directly in the immortal realm? Otherwise, how could such a little kid become an immortal? That seemed a bit too absurd. Also, the boy used the phrase “finish work,” which confused Shui Miao. Did even immortals have to work regular shifts?
The immortal realm, mysterious and wondrous, filled Shui Miao with boundless curiosity.
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