Volume One: Youths Meet in Humble Times Chapter Twenty-Five: Delivering a Message

Li Yu opened his eyes to the room where he had lived for two years. He felt neither sadness nor grief—only an emptiness flooding his heart. There was no relief at surviving calamity, nor the anguish of wondering how he might continue living. All that remained was a confusion as profound as the death of hope.

The Daoist, seeing Li Yu’s state, understood he was sunk in sorrow, unaware of it, and might struggle to escape for some time. He said to Li Yu, “I think, if your grandmother could see you now, she wouldn’t truly be at ease. You must carefully consider how you’ll live from now on.”

These words reached Li Yu. Perhaps, from the moment he awoke, his senses had returned; he simply did not wish to speak or act for a while. Upon hearing the reminder of the promise he had made to his grandmother to live well, a spark returned to his eyes—no longer hollow and lost. His fingers twitched ever so slightly; from that moment, he truly came back to life.

Outside, the Daoist summoned the Earth Deity and instructed, “Watch over him well.” With that, he vanished.

The Earth Deity hurriedly agreed. Once the Daoist departed, he looked at Li Yu inside and murmured, “It seems this child’s future is limitless.”

Lu Ming and his two companions had intended to turn back and check on Li Yu, but as they debated returning, the Daoist’s voice echoed in their ears: “Li Yu is unharmed. If I were you, the task now is to find where the drought demon has gone.”

The Daoist was right. The mountain’s protective array was destroyed, the phantom demon had fled, the mountain demon had been eradicated by the phantom demon, but the root of this drought—the drought demon—remained, unaffected by the phantom demon’s disappearance.

Lu Ming and his companions understood well: the Daoist’s words meant the drought demon had certainly escaped. If they did not destroy it, who knew how many more disasters would befall this place.

All three employed their respective search techniques, carefully observing until they finally determined the direction of the drought demon’s flight.

Before departing, Lu Ming glanced toward the Red Spring Mountain. Lie Yan Kong saw this and said, “Junior Brother Lu, eliminating the drought demon is urgent. Since the elder said so, Li Yu really is fine. With him watching over Li Yu, what more could you worry about? We’ve already spent too much time here—now that things are settled, we must return to the Imperial Palace to report.”

Lu Ming acknowledged the truth in his words. After a pause, he replied, “Let’s go. I hope we’ll meet again elsewhere.”

The three soared toward the direction of the drought demon’s escape; what followed would be tomorrow’s fate.

After sending his message, the Daoist did not linger. He knew the three, by their nature, would surely act to destroy the drought demon. In fact, when the golden dragon and phantom demon summoned the Red Lotus Karma Fire, the phantom demon had refined the Yin-Yang Polar Pearl and used the teleportation array to release the drought demon. The reason for releasing such a powerful ally remained a mystery, but it had led to Lu Ming and his companions having to clean up the aftermath.

Meanwhile, within the Yellow Spring Sect.

When one of the sect’s Grand Elders declared the mountain sealed, it stirred discontent among all, but his power and status forced obedience. From that moment, they knew nothing of the outside world. They did not know that Changlin City, one of their protected lands, had become a wasteland—lifeless, deserted, all beings fallen.

Originally, the phantom demon and two other Grand Elders had planned as follows: the sect’s closure served three purposes. First, to ensure the disaster would not affect their own people, preserving their strength. Second, they had long understood the character of City Lord Wu Shouzhong. They knew that when disaster struck, if outsiders pressured him via inside-out cooperation, he would activate the mountain’s defense array. This would keep the disaster contained and trap Wu Shouzhong, preventing him from interfering.

Third, after the event, they would push Wu Shouzhong forward as the scapegoat. When they made their agreement with outsiders, it was described as a conflict between Wu Shouzhong’s imperial faction and the sect’s ecclesiastical faction. Outsiders needed only to stay uninvolved and would benefit. The phantom demon’s release of the drought demon was premeditated, giving it enough time to escape to the edge of the mountain’s defense. Thus, when all was said and done, they could blame Wu Shouzhong for the disaster and the drought demon’s emergence, extricating themselves. With witnesses outside the defense array, they could then kill both the drought demon and Wu Shouzhong.

Even if Wu Shouzhong tried to explain himself, what difference did it make to a dead man? The so-called deception of superiors and subordinates was nothing more.

Unfortunately, the phantom demon’s plan was meticulous, but he had not foreseen the appearance of the Daoist.

Once everything was prepared, the Grand Elder phantom demon took his branch of elite disciples and specters, as well as the sect-guarding sword, Yellow Spring.

But not long ago, the soul tokens of those elite disciples shattered, and messages sent to the Grand Elder returned unanswered. They knew then that disaster had struck.

The sect leader wanted to lift the seal and send disciples to investigate, but was opposed by the other two Grand Elders, who insisted, “Rest assured, no one can harm a Grand Elder.”

Thus, the Yellow Spring Sect fell into silence.

Until one day, a voice thundered across the sky: “Do you think hiding like turtles makes everything disappear? How naive!”

As the words faded, a colossal hand descended from the heavens, smashing the mountain-sealing array to dust. Its force continued, striking directly at the sect’s peaks.

Every disciple stared, terrified, at the descending hand. They wondered—who was this peerless cultivator? When had the sect offended such a formidable figure? Could their sect leader and elders withstand him?

This fear was not limited to the disciples; even the two Grand Elders were deeply alarmed. The force belonged to a true master. When had the sect ever offended such a one?

Though shaken, they acted swiftly. If they did not, the sect might be destroyed that day.

The two Grand Elders raised their hands to counter the attack. Their combined effort diminished the force by half, but fear gripped them deeper. They no longer held back, unleashing their full power against the hand, finally neutralizing it before it struck.

The Grand Elders soared into the sky, faces grim, but forced by the opponent’s strength to salute him, asking, “May we know your name, and why you destroy our sect’s array?”

The Daoist laughed. “I’ve come to inform you: I am taking this sword.” He revealed the Yellow Spring Sword.

The elders stared at the sword. “How is it in your hands? What did you do to our Grand Elder?”

The Daoist smiled again. “Nothing much—merely cut his cultivation in half and banished him to some unknown place.”

The elders stared incredulously; they could not believe his words, yet the Daoist’s power and demeanor left no room for doubt.

They knew the phantom demon’s strength well—a cultivator of the twelfth realm, whose true level was the thirteenth, merely reduced by injury. Should his schemes succeed, his power would return, perhaps even grow. But now, to have his cultivation halved so easily—what level must the Daoist possess? They dared not think further. Self-preservation was paramount. Besides, a Grand Elder of merely the sixth realm was dispensable.

They said, “Since he offended you, he deserves his fate. We know nothing of his true identity or whereabouts. We fear we cannot help you.”

The Daoist looked at them with a half-smile. “I don’t know if you truly know nothing of his real identity. I’ll tell you only this: conduct yourselves wisely.”

He tossed them a jade slip. “If someone from the Sky Survey Bureau comes, give them this.”

With that, he vanished.

The two elders tried to remain calm, but their backs were soaked with cold sweat. Once the Daoist left, they relaxed completely. One suddenly remembered, “Are we really not going to reclaim the Yellow Spring Sword?”

The other replied irritably, “If you have the strength, ask for it. I certainly can’t.”

Stung, the first elder could only curse the phantom demon. “It’s all his fault. We’ve lost the Yellow Spring Sword, never received what was promised, and now offended a great power. If he comes looking for trouble, we’ll have to clean up his mess.”

“It should be fine. He doesn’t seem unreasonable. Since he spared us, he likely won’t trouble us again. As for the sword, let it be our apology. We failed to judge him rightly.”

They glanced at the jade slip in their hands. Though curious, they refrained from examining it, fearing any hidden traps the Daoist might have left.

They discussed, “Do you think he gave us this jade slip for no other reason?”

The other pondered and replied, “Perhaps it’s to remind us, in case the phantom demon returns, to take the right side and not support the wrong person.”

It was a test, or perhaps a warning, urging the sect to treat the phantom demon, known as Mu Huan, as an outcast. Should he return seeking sanctuary, they must capture or kill him.

Soon after, the Sky Survey Bureau’s people indeed arrived. When told of the Daoist and the jade slip, the envoy swept it with his divine sense and was shocked, leaving his subordinates to handle follow-up and hurriedly flying back to the capital.

Within the jade slip was only a single sentence and a drawing: “Mu, is this really the mortal world you wish to see?”

Only those equal in status, power, and seniority dared address the Imperial Palace’s Patriarch by his Dao title. The envoy, though ignorant of the Daoist’s identity, dared not ignore such fearlessness, and rushed to report.

The question was posed to the Patriarch’s heart. The envoy felt nothing upon hearing it, but when the Patriarch received the jade slip and heard its words, he understood it as a question of the Dao heart. When two hearts resonate, no matter the distance, the one who asks knows whether the other’s Dao heart has changed, whether his original intent remains.

In a grand hall, a middle-aged Daoist in a gray brocade robe sat cross-legged on a mat. Before him floated the jade slip. After hearing its message, he pondered, his face wavering between indecision and resolve. Soon, his expression hardened with determination; a faint smile appeared at his lips. The jade slip seemed to sense his thoughts, let out a sigh, then shattered into dust.

The Patriarch rose and gazed at the mural behind him—five continents arranged like the petals of a flower, lacking only the central calyx. Above where the calyx should be, a door was carved.

He looked at the mural, regretful. “In the end, our views are still not the same.”