C20. Divine Master of the Great Snowy Mountain
All was silent in the wastelands. Everyone was astounded.
These burly men who conducted business outside the borders had heard of the Great Snowy Mountain. The Daoists there were masters whom no one dared to offend, be it within the borders or in the northern wastelands.
There were many stories about the Great Snowy Mountain. Things like being rescued by immortals after falling into icy crevices when searching for snow lotuses in the mountains; a child beggar in town being taken in by some daozhang to cultivate and attain immortality; General Li falling gravely ill, meeting some Daoist priest whom he had once provided a meal for, consuming a few packets of medicine and recovering within three days, and so on.
In the current, more prosperous times, the Son of Heaven emphasised Confucianism, and Confucius did not encourage belief in spirits and gods. Only foolish men and women believed in such things.
In the eyes of many, the Great Snowy Mountain was nothing more than a martial sect with many experts well-versed in internal martial arts. They were very mysterious, and no one could cross them.
One could not say this line of thought was wrong.
In this world, many people practised internal martial arts and the ways of fostering Qi. Those who practiced internal martial arts could even gain insight into the Dao through martial arts.
Foundation Establishment-level cultivators were the most numerous in the cultivation world. They did not spend their lives seriously, dying without even being able to form a golden core, unable to reach the true path of attaining immortality.
Large sects were split into internal and external sections. Most of the external disciples were worldly people; since ancient times, many people who were unable to gain insight into the Dao left to become generals and government officials. This custom had incurred heavy karmic debt during a time when the dynasties were changing. The feuds between external disciples had implicated cultivators from the internal circles, different sects supported different dynasties, and in the end, even the immortals who had already ascended were beginning to fight in the Celestial Realm.
This incident had dealt quite a hard blow to the cultivation world, with many sects destroyed. After this, people feared even the words ‘karma’ and ‘calamity’, no longer daring to interfere in worldly affairs, and cultivators were not allowed to expose their identities.
After covering up for thousands of years, the ways of attaining immortality had become baseless legends.
The Great Snowy Mountain lay in the desolate north, having been covered in ice and snow for many years. No one from the western states or the northern grasslands dared to offend them. Those of the Great Snowy Mountain did not spread the ideas of the Dao, nor did they openly recruit disciples; they were a mysterious group. People who worked on the merchant routes outside the borders knew that the people of the Great Snowy Mountain were not to be messed with, but it was quite unclear exactly what they were capable of, which was the scariest thing—no one alive knew.
The torches crackled and burned quietly. The green-robed monk kowtowed deeply, not raising his head for the longest time.
The atmosphere was unusually heavy. Everyone glanced about, exchanging looks of confusion and surprise. Even Adviser Skinny Huang’s movement of bending down to pick his fan up had stopped. He was bent over like a toad, his mouth wide open.
The curtain on the carriage swayed lightly, until it settled down, becoming still.
This time, the green-robed monk did not use his ability to shorten distances. He stepped backwards one step at a time, then exhaled, flicked his duster, and returned to his companions, his expression dark.
In response to the suspicious gazes of the other three monks, this Nascent Soul-level cultivator passed a message using his divine sense.
The Blood Demon.
At once, the remaining people paled. Their gazes met; they shook their heads slowly.
“People of the Great Snowy Mountain, you are hereby ordered to clear a path as quickly as possible.”
Not only were the people from the caravans curious, the common disciples of the Great Snowy Mountain who were slaving in the wastelands with their fengshui compasses were very curious as well. They were very clear what these Daoist monks were capable of, since those were their martial grandfathers and martial great-grandfathers[1] who were at the Nascent Soul stage. If there was someone who made them act cautious and address the other party as a senior, surely it had to be some legendary figure who was at the Demigod stage?
In the cultivation world, anyone at Demigod-level was qualified enough to be the leader of a sect. Every Demigod-level cultivator was someone famous, with innate talent and never-ending tales to their name.
The path towards Cangshi Town had been cleared, but no other caravan dared to move.
The salt traffickers felt like the gazes of envy and astonishment were filling them with holes. They braced themselves and took their horses’ reins. The scar-faced chief, who was still more or less calm, strode over and stopped five paces away from the carriage. He inquired in a low voice,
“Cangshi Town isn’t too far ahead. If you two brothers do not mind, this carriage will be given to you.”
His subordinates became horrified, tugging on his sleeves wildly—if the chief did not attempt to gain favour with such a formidable figure, that was that, but it would not be nice to chase them away as if they carried some plague. What if they angered the other party?
Skinny Huang slapped someone to the side with his fan, giving an apologetic smile.
“We’re lucky to have met you, and we’d rather not disturb you. This humble one can drive the carriage for you gentlemen, do you…”
Just then, a gust of wind passed by, blowing the curtain aside.
“Ah!”
Skinny Huang the adviser fell to the ground again, stammering, “Boss…the people, the people disappeared!”
The chief of the salt traffickers went up and lifted the curtain. It was indeed empty on the inside.
“So they’re masters after all!” the people exclaimed, craning their necks to look at the rundown carriage. It was as the storytellers said; masters of the martial arts could walk in snow without leaving footprints and strike things on faraway mountains. They could steal from a hundred households in one night without leaving a single trace, possessing powers beyond that of regular mortals.
So many people studied the martial arts all their lives and became disciples of martial arts practitioners, all in the hopes of becoming the sort of master who could stand on branches against the wind and cross rivers with nothing but reeds[2]. However, they never achieved such levels of accomplishment even after practicing their entire lives. For they had no idea that those people were, in fact, not practitioners of martial arts…If one strove in the wrong direction, would they be able to obtain any results?
The Daoist monks of the Great Snowy Mountain watched from the sidelines.
As the first group of thick-skinned merchants left with their horse-drawn carriages, the people who had been stuck in this place all began to leave as well. There were many people who came to ask the salt traffickers about the situation.
Amidst the hullabaloo, a monk discreetly set a communication talisman free.
At this very moment, Chen He was gripping Shi Feng’s sleeves tightly, the hills and rivers passing before his eyes quickly, like the images on a spinning lantern[3].
Senior Brother suddenly produced a magic item and left with him in tow, and Chen He could not help but mull it over in his heart; was Qiankun Monastery of the Great Snowy Mountain a difficult sect to deal with? Otherwise, why would Senior Brother scare them and then use a magic item to escape with him, without any regard for his injuries?
“Senior…”
Before Chen He was able to finish, his mouth was covered by Shi Feng.
Were they fleeing for their lives?
Chen He attempted to make sense of the rapidly changing view beneath him. He was held tightly in Shi Feng’s embrace, unable to even lift his own arms. After the age of ten, Chen He had never been embraced by Shi Feng in such a manner. This position made Chen He even more uneasy.
—clearly, the enemy was coming from behind.
“Sir Shi Feng, how surprising it is to meet you again after many years. I wonder why you turned and left when you sensed my presence nearby?”
A clear voice seemed to sound in his ears, the tone gentle, the voice itself sounding highly appealing.
Chen He’s vision went dark. His consciousness felt as if it was slipping towards an endless abyss, his whole body going slack and drooping downwards.
The arms around him tightened their hold. Soon after, Chen He heard a deafening voice filtering through his consciousness, waking his soul up. Chen He bit his lower lip, the pain stimulating his spiritual energy to begin flowing again, resisting the voice that was as gentle as the spring wind.
“I heard that you abandoned everything and entered Black Depths Valley. I’d thought we would never meet again, unless we went through the Six Realms of Existence. Who would’ve expected a reunion with an old acquaintance in this desolate land, how fortunate indeed.”
Chen He was only aware of a highly tempting voice in his ears. No matter how much he tried, his consciousness floated and drifted aimlessly like duckweed.
Had he not been embraced tightly, Chen He would have already turned around and walked absently towards the voice.
—before migrating to the Great Snowy Mountain, the Qiankun Monastery leaders had always been State Priests during the previous dynasty.
Their voices, gentle as spring breezes and light rain, had a powerful bewitching ability that could befuddle the minds of mortals. If any cultivator below the Golden Core stage heard it while their hearts and minds were unguarded, they would never break free from the suggestive power of such a voice.
Even with the protection of a magic item, Chen He would not be able to hold out for much longer against the voice of the Divine Master himself.
“Silence!”
Shi Feng suddenly let out a fierce shout.
Chen He’s ears seemed to clear out at once. He breathed hard, finally regaining his senses.
Before he could wonder who was chasing them, he felt something warm in his hair, some liquid slowly dripping onto his forehead. Chen He reached up to touch it; the alarming shade of red shocked him into raising his head at once.
Senior Brother!
A scarlet stream of blood trickled from the corner of Shi Feng’s mouth, sliding along his pale neck down to his chest.
Did Senior Brother just, speak?!
Chen He was shocked and concerned. He dared not move. His sense of reason told him that Shi Feng had run into an enemy, and right now, he was a burden to Shi Feng.
“You’ve become bad-tempered after being a recluse in Black Depths Valley for over twenty years, I really wonder what’s the matter.” The voice had returned to normal, its owner sounding puzzled. “Do all the people who’ve stayed in Black Depths Valley change so drastically? Mm?”
The voice paused. A moment later, there came a laugh.
“So that’s what it is! Shi Feng, I received a message from my sect members saying you took in another disciple? You’re not letting me speak because you’re worried about him?”
Shi Feng closed his eyes. When they opened again, he had hidden his raging fury.
With a wave of his hand, he turned and stopped using his magic item.
Below them, the waters seemed to be shrouded in mist; in the distance, mountains, lakes, and frost-covered forests could be seen—having travelled swiftly, they had long since left the Redwinds Desert, and were now within the central plains.
A flash of green zoomed over, stopping about thirty metres away in mid-air and facing Shi Feng at a distance.
This was a man who had upright features, a hint of a smile on his face, and a green sword under his feet. Though he was dressed in the robes of a Taoist priest, they hung loosely off his body. He was dressed improperly, his appearance giving the impression of a dissolute individual.
When the man saw blood at the corner of Shi Feng’s mouth, he did not exhibit the delight of seeing one’s enemy with injuries. Instead, he flew backwards a little further on his sword.
“You ordered people to surround a town, what are you snooping around so suspiciously for?” Shi Feng asked coldly, without waiting for any greetings from him.
That person had been looking at Chen He. Hearing these words, he smiled, “Well, why don’t you take a guess—”
“It was enough for a few Nascent Soul-level cultivators to guard the area, but even you were hiding nearby. Is there anything that would require the Divine Master of the Great Snowy Mountain to come to the desert in person and search?”
At first, blood poured from Shi Feng’s mouth with each word he spoke, but he looked unconcerned, as if he was not the one who had been injured.
The Divine Master of the Snowy Mountain formed a stark contrast to this.
The more blood flowed from Shi Feng’s mouth, the tighter his brows knitted. Were it not for the fact that he was standing on his sword in mid-air, he might have taken a step back with every mouthful of blood that came out of Shi Feng’s mouth.
Hence there appeared an odd sight above the lake.
Two people were watching Shi Feng in agony, while the person spewing blood was hardly concerned.
“What, you do not want to say it?” One could not tell Shi Feng’s feelings from his expression.
Although, the Silence Meditation he had practiced for years was now broken, and he had suffered internal injuries on top of that, so there was little chance that he could be in a good mood.
The Divine Master sensed an aura of danger. He cast a cold stare towards Chen He before answering, “I have concrete information that the inheritance of an ancient demonic sect has been left behind near the Redwinds Desert, and it must be destroyed before it can be unlocked by any demon cultivator.”
“And you would be so kind-hearted?”
“Our Qiankun Monastery of the Snowy Mountain is a famed orthodox sect, after all.”
Shi Feng raised his eyebrows in derision, ceasing to speak. Clutching Chen He tightly, he made a move to leave.
“Wait!” The Divine Master of the Snowy Mountain quickly spoke, stopping Shi Feng, “It’s not just the inheritance from the ancient demonic sect, there’s also a treasure.”
Shi Feng ignored him.
The Divine Master gritted his teeth, deciding not to keep it a secret any longer.
“It’s the rumoured Secret Beixuan Treasure!”
Shi Feng jolted. Chen He could feel his senior brother’s entire body tremble.
Raising his head, Chen He saw that Shi Feng’s expression was complex, an indescribable expression that seemed furious and perplexed at the same time. Then he heard his senior brother say dispassionately,
“Oh, you mean the secret treasure that caused the annihilation of the Beixuan Sect?”
C20. Divine Master of the Great Snowy Mountain
All was silent in the wastelands. Everyone was astounded.
These burly men who conducted business outside the borders had heard of the Great Snowy Mountain. The Daoists there were masters whom no one dared to offend, be it within the borders or in the northern wastelands.
There were many stories about the Great Snowy Mountain. Things like being rescued by immortals after falling into icy crevices when searching for snow lotuses in the mountains; a child beggar in town being taken in by some daozhang to cultivate and attain immortality; General Li falling gravely ill, meeting some Daoist priest whom he had once provided a meal for, consuming a few packets of medicine and recovering within three days, and so on.
In the current, more prosperous times, the Son of Heaven emphasised Confucianism, and Confucius did not encourage belief in spirits and gods. Only foolish men and women believed in such things.
In the eyes of many, the Great Snowy Mountain was nothing more than a martial sect with many experts well-versed in internal martial arts. They were very mysterious, and no one could cross them.
One could not say this line of thought was wrong.
In this world, many people practised internal martial arts and the ways of fostering Qi. Those who practiced internal martial arts could even gain insight into the Dao through martial arts.
Foundation Establishment-level cultivators were the most numerous in the cultivation world. They did not spend their lives seriously, dying without even being able to form a golden core, unable to reach the true path of attaining immortality.
Large sects were split into internal and external sections. Most of the external disciples were worldly people; since ancient times, many people who were unable to gain insight into the Dao left to become generals and government officials. This custom had incurred heavy karmic debt during a time when the dynasties were changing. The feuds between external disciples had implicated cultivators from the internal circles, different sects supported different dynasties, and in the end, even the immortals who had already ascended were beginning to fight in the Celestial Realm.
This incident had dealt quite a hard blow to the cultivation world, with many sects destroyed. After this, people feared even the words ‘karma’ and ‘calamity’, no longer daring to interfere in worldly affairs, and cultivators were not allowed to expose their identities.
After covering up for thousands of years, the ways of attaining immortality had become baseless legends.
The Great Snowy Mountain lay in the desolate north, having been covered in ice and snow for many years. No one from the western states or the northern grasslands dared to offend them. Those of the Great Snowy Mountain did not spread the ideas of the Dao, nor did they openly recruit disciples; they were a mysterious group. People who worked on the merchant routes outside the borders knew that the people of the Great Snowy Mountain were not to be messed with, but it was quite unclear exactly what they were capable of, which was the scariest thing—no one alive knew.
The torches crackled and burned quietly. The green-robed monk kowtowed deeply, not raising his head for the longest time.
The atmosphere was unusually heavy. Everyone glanced about, exchanging looks of confusion and surprise. Even Adviser Skinny Huang’s movement of bending down to pick his fan up had stopped. He was bent over like a toad, his mouth wide open.
The curtain on the carriage swayed lightly, until it settled down, becoming still.
This time, the green-robed monk did not use his ability to shorten distances. He stepped backwards one step at a time, then exhaled, flicked his duster, and returned to his companions, his expression dark.
In response to the suspicious gazes of the other three monks, this Nascent Soul-level cultivator passed a message using his divine sense.
The Blood Demon.
At once, the remaining people paled. Their gazes met; they shook their heads slowly.
“People of the Great Snowy Mountain, you are hereby ordered to clear a path as quickly as possible.”
Not only were the people from the caravans curious, the common disciples of the Great Snowy Mountain who were slaving in the wastelands with their fengshui compasses were very curious as well. They were very clear what these Daoist monks were capable of, since those were their martial grandfathers and martial great-grandfathers[1] who were at the Nascent Soul stage. If there was someone who made them act cautious and address the other party as a senior, surely it had to be some legendary figure who was at the Demigod stage?
In the cultivation world, anyone at Demigod-level was qualified enough to be the leader of a sect. Every Demigod-level cultivator was someone famous, with innate talent and never-ending tales to their name.
The path towards Cangshi Town had been cleared, but no other caravan dared to move.
The salt traffickers felt like the gazes of envy and astonishment were filling them with holes. They braced themselves and took their horses’ reins. The scar-faced chief, who was still more or less calm, strode over and stopped five paces away from the carriage. He inquired in a low voice,
“Cangshi Town isn’t too far ahead. If you two brothers do not mind, this carriage will be given to you.”
His subordinates became horrified, tugging on his sleeves wildly—if the chief did not attempt to gain favour with such a formidable figure, that was that, but it would not be nice to chase them away as if they carried some plague. What if they angered the other party?
Skinny Huang slapped someone to the side with his fan, giving an apologetic smile.
“We’re lucky to have met you, and we’d rather not disturb you. This humble one can drive the carriage for you gentlemen, do you…”
Just then, a gust of wind passed by, blowing the curtain aside.
“Ah!”
Skinny Huang the adviser fell to the ground again, stammering, “Boss…the people, the people disappeared!”
The chief of the salt traffickers went up and lifted the curtain. It was indeed empty on the inside.
“So they’re masters after all!” the people exclaimed, craning their necks to look at the rundown carriage. It was as the storytellers said; masters of the martial arts could walk in snow without leaving footprints and strike things on faraway mountains. They could steal from a hundred households in one night without leaving a single trace, possessing powers beyond that of regular mortals.
So many people studied the martial arts all their lives and became disciples of martial arts practitioners, all in the hopes of becoming the sort of master who could stand on branches against the wind and cross rivers with nothing but reeds[2]. However, they never achieved such levels of accomplishment even after practicing their entire lives. For they had no idea that those people were, in fact, not practitioners of martial arts…If one strove in the wrong direction, would they be able to obtain any results?
The Daoist monks of the Great Snowy Mountain watched from the sidelines.
As the first group of thick-skinned merchants left with their horse-drawn carriages, the people who had been stuck in this place all began to leave as well. There were many people who came to ask the salt traffickers about the situation.
Amidst the hullabaloo, a monk discreetly set a communication talisman free.
At this very moment, Chen He was gripping Shi Feng’s sleeves tightly, the hills and rivers passing before his eyes quickly, like the images on a spinning lantern[3].
Senior Brother suddenly produced a magic item and left with him in tow, and Chen He could not help but mull it over in his heart; was Qiankun Monastery of the Great Snowy Mountain a difficult sect to deal with? Otherwise, why would Senior Brother scare them and then use a magic item to escape with him, without any regard for his injuries?
“Senior…”
Before Chen He was able to finish, his mouth was covered by Shi Feng.
Were they fleeing for their lives?
Chen He attempted to make sense of the rapidly changing view beneath him. He was held tightly in Shi Feng’s embrace, unable to even lift his own arms. After the age of ten, Chen He had never been embraced by Shi Feng in such a manner. This position made Chen He even more uneasy.
—clearly, the enemy was coming from behind.
“Sir Shi Feng, how surprising it is to meet you again after many years. I wonder why you turned and left when you sensed my presence nearby?”
A clear voice seemed to sound in his ears, the tone gentle, the voice itself sounding highly appealing.
Chen He’s vision went dark. His consciousness felt as if it was slipping towards an endless abyss, his whole body going slack and drooping downwards.
The arms around him tightened their hold. Soon after, Chen He heard a deafening voice filtering through his consciousness, waking his soul up. Chen He bit his lower lip, the pain stimulating his spiritual energy to begin flowing again, resisting the voice that was as gentle as the spring wind.
“I heard that you abandoned everything and entered Black Depths Valley. I’d thought we would never meet again, unless we went through the Six Realms of Existence. Who would’ve expected a reunion with an old acquaintance in this desolate land, how fortunate indeed.”
Chen He was only aware of a highly tempting voice in his ears. No matter how much he tried, his consciousness floated and drifted aimlessly like duckweed.
Had he not been embraced tightly, Chen He would have already turned around and walked absently towards the voice.
—before migrating to the Great Snowy Mountain, the Qiankun Monastery leaders had always been State Priests during the previous dynasty.
Their voices, gentle as spring breezes and light rain, had a powerful bewitching ability that could befuddle the minds of mortals. If any cultivator below the Golden Core stage heard it while their hearts and minds were unguarded, they would never break free from the suggestive power of such a voice.
Even with the protection of a magic item, Chen He would not be able to hold out for much longer against the voice of the Divine Master himself.
“Silence!”
Shi Feng suddenly let out a fierce shout.
Chen He’s ears seemed to clear out at once. He breathed hard, finally regaining his senses.
Before he could wonder who was chasing them, he felt something warm in his hair, some liquid slowly dripping onto his forehead. Chen He reached up to touch it; the alarming shade of red shocked him into raising his head at once.
Senior Brother!
A scarlet stream of blood trickled from the corner of Shi Feng’s mouth, sliding along his pale neck down to his chest.
Did Senior Brother just, speak?!
Chen He was shocked and concerned. He dared not move. His sense of reason told him that Shi Feng had run into an enemy, and right now, he was a burden to Shi Feng.
“You’ve become bad-tempered after being a recluse in Black Depths Valley for over twenty years, I really wonder what’s the matter.” The voice had returned to normal, its owner sounding puzzled. “Do all the people who’ve stayed in Black Depths Valley change so drastically? Mm?”
The voice paused. A moment later, there came a laugh.
“So that’s what it is! Shi Feng, I received a message from my sect members saying you took in another disciple? You’re not letting me speak because you’re worried about him?”
Shi Feng closed his eyes. When they opened again, he had hidden his raging fury.
With a wave of his hand, he turned and stopped using his magic item.
Below them, the waters seemed to be shrouded in mist; in the distance, mountains, lakes, and frost-covered forests could be seen—having travelled swiftly, they had long since left the Redwinds Desert, and were now within the central plains.
A flash of green zoomed over, stopping about thirty metres away in mid-air and facing Shi Feng at a distance.
This was a man who had upright features, a hint of a smile on his face, and a green sword under his feet. Though he was dressed in the robes of a Taoist priest, they hung loosely off his body. He was dressed improperly, his appearance giving the impression of a dissolute individual.
When the man saw blood at the corner of Shi Feng’s mouth, he did not exhibit the delight of seeing one’s enemy with injuries. Instead, he flew backwards a little further on his sword.
“You ordered people to surround a town, what are you snooping around so suspiciously for?” Shi Feng asked coldly, without waiting for any greetings from him.
That person had been looking at Chen He. Hearing these words, he smiled, “Well, why don’t you take a guess—”
“It was enough for a few Nascent Soul-level cultivators to guard the area, but even you were hiding nearby. Is there anything that would require the Divine Master of the Great Snowy Mountain to come to the desert in person and search?”
At first, blood poured from Shi Feng’s mouth with each word he spoke, but he looked unconcerned, as if he was not the one who had been injured.
The Divine Master of the Snowy Mountain formed a stark contrast to this.
The more blood flowed from Shi Feng’s mouth, the tighter his brows knitted. Were it not for the fact that he was standing on his sword in mid-air, he might have taken a step back with every mouthful of blood that came out of Shi Feng’s mouth.
Hence there appeared an odd sight above the lake.
Two people were watching Shi Feng in agony, while the person spewing blood was hardly concerned.
“What, you do not want to say it?” One could not tell Shi Feng’s feelings from his expression.
Although, the Silence Meditation he had practiced for years was now broken, and he had suffered internal injuries on top of that, so there was little chance that he could be in a good mood.
The Divine Master sensed an aura of danger. He cast a cold stare towards Chen He before answering, “I have concrete information that the inheritance of an ancient demonic sect has been left behind near the Redwinds Desert, and it must be destroyed before it can be unlocked by any demon cultivator.”
“And you would be so kind-hearted?”
“Our Qiankun Monastery of the Snowy Mountain is a famed orthodox sect, after all.”
Shi Feng raised his eyebrows in derision, ceasing to speak. Clutching Chen He tightly, he made a move to leave.
“Wait!” The Divine Master of the Snowy Mountain quickly spoke, stopping Shi Feng, “It’s not just the inheritance from the ancient demonic sect, there’s also a treasure.”
Shi Feng ignored him.
The Divine Master gritted his teeth, deciding not to keep it a secret any longer.
“It’s the rumoured Secret Beixuan Treasure!”
Shi Feng jolted. Chen He could feel his senior brother’s entire body tremble.
Raising his head, Chen He saw that Shi Feng’s expression was complex, an indescribable expression that seemed furious and perplexed at the same time. Then he heard his senior brother say dispassionately,
“Oh, you mean the secret treasure that caused the annihilation of the Beixuan Sect?”
