In the Taoist sect’s ancestral hall, after the immortal ascension of the non-clan member Qi Xuanzhen in broad daylight, it became rare for the four Grand Taoist Masters of Longhu Mountain to gather together. Even when the infamous butcher Xu Xiao led thousands of iron cavalry to the foot of the mountain, Zhao Xiying, the most prominent among the Xi-generation Taoists of Longhu, did not break through his retreat to appear. During the grand sacrificial ceremony of 36,000 rituals in Xiangfan, only two of the four Grand Taoist Masters attended. In recent decades, Zhao Danping became the “ink-poem Chancellor” in the capital, shining alongside Zhao Danxia, the Taoist scholar-official from the southern regions, making it difficult for them to reunite often. Huan Wen, the Left Sacrificial Official of the National Academy, and Zhang Julu, the Prime Minister, shared the same master and aligned in governance, maintaining a brotherly bond. Yet they held opposing views on one matter: Zhang, the Prime Minister, exclusively favored Confucianism, while Huan, a traditional Confucian, greatly admired the quiet and non-interventionist Huang-Lao philosophy, forming a deep friendship with Zhao Danping in the capital.
Despite being far from the Longhu Mountain, Zhao Danping continued to oversee the sect’s disciplinary codes and sacrificial rituals. Zhao Danxia led Taoism across the land externally, while internally managing only symbolic doctrinal affairs. As for alchemical practices, while officially under the guidance of the elder Taoist Zhao Xiye, the actual details were handled by several masters of the Jing-generation. Zhao Jingchen, a direct descendant of the Zhao family, was responsible for receiving visitors, while Bai Yu, granted a purple robe and honored title by the Emperor, was in charge of doctrinal debates and frequently held lectures expounding Taoist teachings. Alongside the lay Taoist Bai Lian, Qi Xianxia, another non-clan Taoist like Bai Yu, focused solely on sword cultivation and occasionally taught sword techniques to the younger Taoists of the Jing-generation.
The various branches of the Taoist sect remained united, each enjoying prosperity and complementing one another, thus creating the current golden era of Longhu Mountain’s Taoist prestige.
In the western wing of the main hall, the Jade Emperor Hall, there was a corridor lined with ancient stone tablets. Among them stood a solitary, towering jade monument, erected by the fourth-generation patriarch of Longhu Mountain, inscribed with the words “Purple Heaven’s Blessed Land.” It was said to form a pair with the “Enjoying Earthly Tranquility Alone” tablet at Guniu Ridge of Huishan Mountain. Atop this monument stood a Taoist in a dignified yellow robe, gazing toward the Great Snow Plain of Huishan with a look of resentment. At the foot of the monument stood three elderly Taoists, each dressed distinctively. The eldest, with snow-white beard and hair, wore simple white silk robes and straw sandals, and though his attire was unremarkable, he wore a faintly ethereal crane robe, hinting at the vitality of one who had attained the Tao.
The second elder was much more disheveled, clad in a thick cotton robe stained with visible marks, shivering against the cold in thick-soled warm shoes wrapped in cloth, raising questions about how he earned the right to stand within the inner sanctum of the Taoist sect.
The third elder was the most imposing of all, wearing a resplendent purple outer robe over a yellow inner robe, a symbol of supreme nobility. Only the direct lineage of the Taoist sect could wear yellow, as was the case with Zhao Jingchen and his son Zhao Ningyun. Only the most revered Taoist immortals of Longhu Mountain could wear purple, such as Bai Yu, and only one could wear both yellow and purple together—undoubtedly the Taoist sect leader Zhao Danxia alone!
The four Grand Taoist Masters, sharing the imperial surname, finally reunited after spending most of their lives in retreat seeking transcendence. Zhao Xiying, the brilliant yet aloof Zhao Xitu, the Taoist leader Zhao Danxia, and the master of poetic Taoist hymns Zhao Danping, all gathered together. The strange phenomenon at the Great Snow Plain of Yaoyao Mountain caught the attention of the Taoist Masters. Li Chungan’s prophetic words of “Sword Coming” were only prevented from causing the peach-wood sword of the Taoist sect to fly out by Zhao Danping’s intervention. Later, it was Zhao Danping who requested the old sword saint to return the sword. Upon hearing the refusal, Zhao Danping’s anger caused his Taoist crown to rise. Zhao Xitu, ever the irreverent elder, laughed heartily. Zhao Danxia exchanged a knowing smile with his father Zhao Xiying. Regardless of their cultivation levels, their ability to maintain composure was nearly unparalleled in the world.
In his youth, Zhao Xitu had never been close to his nephew Zhao Danping, always finding the boy disagreeable—gloomy and lacking the magnanimity befitting a Zhao descendant. Thus, the elder Taoist never concealed his favoritism toward Zhao Danxia. The relationship between Uncle Zhao Xitu and nephew Zhao Danping could be described as fatefully incompatible. Despite their close blood ties, they rarely exchanged pleasant words. This time, Zhao Danping’s return to the ancestral home was largely to consult with his elder brother on how to respond to the latest imperial policies. With the empire’s territorial restructuring, the Taoist sect’s original twenty-four administrative regions would inevitably need adjustment. Additionally, the establishment of the “Buddhist Regulator” position meant the Chongxuan Bureau might soon separate from the Honglu Temple. The struggle between Buddhism and Taoism was not merely doctrinal—it was a battle for spiritual fortune, leaving no room for carelessness. With the creation of the Buddhist Regulator, the court had effectively chosen an official Buddhist leader, inevitably leading to a contest for supremacy between him and Zhao Danxia, the Taoist sect leader.
Zhao Xitu grumbled, “Zhao Danping, what are you standing on the ancestral stone for? Li Chungan doesn’t even care about you. Yelling won’t help. Why don’t you fly a sword over to the Great Snow Plain and fight Li Chungan until the sky turns dark? I’ll cheer you on.”
Zhao Danping huffed but descended from the stone. Flying atop the monument was against protocol, but in the moment, he had been too enraged by Li Chungan’s forceful actions to care about etiquette. Now slightly calmed, he abandoned the idea.
Zhao Xiying, disturbed in his cultivation by the forced breakthrough of Xuan Jingcheng, sighed with hands folded in his sleeves, “This man sacrificed his life to reach the realm of earthly immortality. Truly lamentable. If only he had advanced gradually, he might have truly ascended.”
Zhao Danxia, the most ethereal of them all, nodded, “After this incident, Huishan’s spiritual fortune has been greatly diminished.”
Zhao Xiying’s face darkened, “Misfortune and fortune come not by fate but by human actions. This ancient warning must not be ignored. We of Longhu Mountain must take heed. Danping!”
Though Zhao Danping was headstrong, his Taoist knowledge, martial prowess, and intellect were all first-rate. Upon hearing his father’s reprimand, the urge to argue with his uncle Zhao Xitu vanished instantly. He calmed his mind, his sharpness dissolving, no longer showing any desire to compete with Li Chungan.
The Taoist sect had been passed down for 1,600 years, usually from father to son. If a sect leader had no heir, the position would pass to a brother, nephew, or uncle. Never had a non-clan Taoist or woman succeeded. The previous sect leader, Zhao Xici, had no children, and the succession of the Three Sacred Treasures—the Seal of Clear Governance, the Sword of Auspicious Omen, and the Jade Scripture of the Supreme Emperor—was disputed between Zhao Xitu, Zhao Danxia, and Zhao Danping. An elder of the mountain originally favored Zhao Xitu, but he simply fled the mountain to wander the world, declaring, “Pass it to Danxia instead.” Thus, Zhao Danxia became the sect leader, leaving Zhao Danping resentful. His subsequent move to the capital was clearly an act of defiance. The leadership of Wudang Mountain paled in comparison to that of Longhu. Since the death of Wang Chonglou, the Wudang leadership had been passed around, and many Longhu Taoists viewed it as merely a mountain leader, not worth competing over. Only the Wudang of five hundred years ago could rival Longhu. Fortunately, under Zhao Danxia’s leadership, Longhu reached even greater heights, becoming the undisputed leader of all Taoist sects. Zhao Danping, who had intended to establish his own sect in the capital, finally submitted, prompting his father Zhao Xiying’s stern words about fortune and misfortune.
Zhao Danping said coldly, “Li Chungan’s return to the realm of sword immortality is indeed an extraordinary feat. But he chose to borrow a thousand swords from our Longhu Mountain at the Great Snow Plain. Once this news spreads, where is the face of the Taoist sect?”
Zhao Danxia smiled gently, “What is lost here can be regained there. You, in the capital, can restore it. The capable bear more burdens. Brother, I must apologize in advance.”
“Brother, speaking like a rogue—what kind of example is that?”
Zhao Danping sighed, his tone no longer rigid. During his years away from Longhu Mountain, serving at the Emperor’s side was no simple matter of writing poetic hymns. Through various encounters and insights into the Dao, he had gained the ability to shatter a hundred armored foes with a mere flick of his Dust whisk and engage in fierce duels with the black-robed monk Yang Tai. Zhao Danping’s temperament had gradually become more refined and flexible, no longer prone to the fiery intensity of his youth, when he would have rushed to Huishan with his sword to confront Li Chungan.
Interestingly, the current harmonious atmosphere within the Taoist sect was largely due to Zhao Dansi, Zhao Danping’s late-blooming son. Though ranked last among the Jing-generation and possessing no exceptional martial or scholarly talent, Zhao Dansi was warm-hearted and genuine, a rare soul without ulterior motives. Even Zhao Xitu, known for his eccentric temper and dislike of Zhao Danping, would smile upon seeing Zhao Dansi. The entire sect enjoyed sharing stories of his mishaps and antics. Even the most outstanding non-clan Taoists, such as Bai Yu and Qi Xianxia, had grown close to Zhao Dansi since childhood, even sharing trousers. The female Taoists of Longhu Mountain were fond of teasing this yellow-robed heir, even the youngest novices daring to joke with him. Elder Taoist Zhao Xitu himself once remarked that Zhao Danping’s greatest virtue was fathering such a son.
Zhao Dansi’s most notable trait was his tendency to lose focus. Often, mid-conversation, he would suddenly fall silent, lost in thought. The mountain folk dreaded his seeking help with books, for even the thinnest volume could spark a thousand bizarre questions. Even the patient Zhao Danxia had been driven to frustration by his relentless inquiries. Bai Lian, whose erudition rivaled Zhao Danxia’s, once joked that he feared three things: thunderstorms, walking, and Zhao Dansi’s questions. Such was the depth of Zhao Dansi’s curiosity.
Zhao Xitu muttered, “Old Li returning to the peak of sword cultivation—there’s a good chance he’ll clash with Wang Xianzhi.”
Zhao Xiying stroked his beard and smiled, “It seems he may face Deng Tai’e first.”
Zhao Danxia and Zhao Danping exchanged knowing smiles. The two elders and Li Chungan were of the same generation, and their interest in Li’s attainment of immortality was “not without ulterior motives.” At their level of cultivation and status, aside from cultivating for eternal life and monitoring the Taoist sect’s spiritual fortune, there was little else to distract them.
To the world, the Grand Taoist Masters were untouchable, but within the Zhao family of the Taoist sect, they were simply family—elders viewed through the eyes of descendants. Zhao Xiying waved his hand, saying, “Danping, you and Danxia go discuss the important matters. I’ve finally crawled out of my coffin for a breath of fresh air, and I want to chat with your uncle.”
Zhao Danxia and Zhao Danping obeyed and left the corridor.
Zhao Xiying looked at his younger brother and sighed, “Each meeting finds us older. Xitu, I wonder how many more times I’ll see you in this life.”
Zhao Xitu grumbled, “Sentimental nonsense. If you didn’t retreat into isolation, you’d see me every day until you were sick of it.”
Zhao Xiying shook his head, “Wang Chonglou achieved the Great Huang Ting, yet I still cannot ascend to the Jade Emperor Hall as the ancestors instructed. I feel I have failed my ancestors.”
Zhao Xitu snapped, “If you haven’t ascended to the Jade Emperor Hall and become a celestial being, does that mean you’re unworthy to face the ancestors? Then I must be making them so angry they’ll descend from heaven again!”
Zhao Xiying smiled, “Let’s not dwell on that. How is your disciple’s cultivation progressing?”
Zhao Xitu grinned like a mischievous child and gave a thumbs-up, “Like this!”
“When will he descend the mountain?”
“Once he defeats the black tiger under Qi Xuanzhen’s tutelage.”
“Excellent.”
Zhao Xiying nodded, then added with concern, “Last time at the Lotus Peak’s decade-long Buddhist-Taoist debate, the white-robed monk was absent, and our Taoist sect barely won. Without Bai Yu’s efforts, we might have lost. I’ve heard this time is strange—neither Li Dangxin nor the senior monks will serve as the main debaters. Instead, a young monk will represent the Two Chan Temple. Bai Yu mentioned this young monk once visited the Taoist sect with a little girl, and Bai Yu believes the monk has great potential, possibly rivaling Li Dangxin in the future.”
Zhao Xitu groaned, “I don’t care about that nonsense. It’s just a boring debate. Sitting there for days under the sun and wind is nothing but suffering. In the end, it’s just an argument. Winning isn’t worth boasting about.”
Zhao Xiying frowned, “It wouldn’t matter much—winning is winning, and we’d gain a little prestige for the Taoist sect. But now, with the court’s schemes, it’s like casting a vast net. If we win, all is well. But if we lose, the balance of spiritual fortune among the Three Teachings may shift, and our Taoist sect will suffer the most.”
Zhao Xitu shrugged, “If it weren’t for the old ancestor’s little bet, we wouldn’t have this trouble. Brother, do you know who the old ancestor is betting with, what the bet is about, and what the stakes are?”
Zhao Xiying hesitated, then whispered, “I only know it’s a same-surname bet—betting who will ascend first, with the stakes being one seal for another.”
The ever-lazy Zhao Xitu groaned, “Only the old ancestor enjoys such nonsense. If he had just ascended with Qi Xuanzhen back then, you’d have Qi Xuanzhen ascending in a rainbow by daylight, and our Zhao would ride a crane into the heavens. That would have been satisfying!”
Zhao Xiying smiled without answering.
Zhao Xitu chuckled, “Actually, I know the old ancestor’s little scheme. Our Longhu Mountain boasts that a Grand Taoist Master will attain immortality every hundred years. But we brothers and uncles have been too lazy to live up to that. If the old ancestor had ascended earlier, and no one achieved immortality for fifty years, it would be a huge embarrassment. That’s why he made the bet—to see who would ascend last.”
Zhao Xiying glared and warned, “Be careful with your words!”
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