Chapter Ten: Old Friends
The next morning, Shen Yu saw Mingjian standing outside the door, dressed in a blue robe, holding his horsetail whisk downward.
“I’m here to take you to the Inner Sect of the Daoist Order.”
Shen Yu glanced at him and saw that he was brimming with energy, much more at ease than before. It seemed he would soon break through to the Cave-true Realm.
After tidying his bedding and carefully washing the celadon tea set, Shen Yu closed the door behind him. He realized he had nothing to bring along.
He came with nothing, and he left with nothing. Having no attachments—this was the true essence of a cultivator.
Descending from Emerald Bamboo Peak, he looked back at the mountain he had called home for two years, feeling a tinge of regret.
From now on, he would never again lead such a leisurely life.
...
Once they had passed Emerald Bamboo Peak and crossed a wide expanse of marshland, they saw, carved into the distant stone cliffs, the two characters signifying the Daoist Order.
Mingjian said, “The Inner Sect is not far ahead. The Mountain-guarding Grand Array has been activated—you must not fly on any magic item within its bounds, or you’ll be obliterated by the array.”
With that, the two walked silently along the mountain path, making no mention of the events of the previous day.
Shen Yu sensed the irregular flows of spiritual treasure energy in the sky above. It reminded him of the Heart-Questioning Path behind the Yanfa Hall, so he asked casually, “The Mountain-guarding Grand Array here—is it overseen by Master Dao Xuan of the Yanfa Hall?”
No sooner had he spoken than Mingjian looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost.
Shen Yu shook his head, understanding the implication, and said, “Just a guess, nothing more.”
“This is a sect secret—not to be spoken of lightly.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Mingjian lowered his voice. “Still, some disciples have managed to guess as much. After all, the Grand Array is closely tied to the Yanfa Hall, and the Heart-Questioning Path there is suffused with spiritual treasure energy as well.”
Shen Yu nodded faintly. He had already considered this when he was behind the Yanfa Hall.
But he did not dwell on it.
What truly caught his attention was the seemingly chaotic but subtly evolving spiritual treasure energy in the sky—there was something strangely familiar about it.
How odd.
Passing the stone cliff, they ascended another mountain. Shen Yu happened to glance back, and at last, a ripple disturbed his calm, deep eyes.
“All those in the world who are strong, and those who think themselves strong, are in truth not strong enough.”
These twenty-four words seemed carved into the cliff by a fingertip, an indomitable aura emanating from the ancient rock.
“It’s said these words were inscribed by one of the Daoist Order’s ancestral founders, and cultivators everywhere never tire of discussing it,” Mingjian remarked.
Mingjian noticed the usual composure had left Shen Yu’s face and smiled.
Every new disciple paused at this spot, and none remained unaffected. The words were simply too bold and domineering, brimming with heroic spirit.
Mingjian thought, in the end, a young man is still a young man. No matter how calm Shen Yu appeared, he must feel his blood stir on occasion.
It was a pity, though, that Mingjian did not pay close attention to Shen Yu’s expression. He missed the flicker of emotion in the young man’s eyes—something beyond mere surprise.
“These words... I was the one who spoke them, so why are they here?”
Doubt gnawed at Shen Yu as he stared at the cliff, lost in thought.
The spiritual treasure energy of the Grand Array had already surprised him. Now, these twenty-four words led him to a darker suspicion.
Mingjian asked, “What’s wrong?”
Shen Yu drew a deep breath, shook his head slightly, and turned away. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”
...
They continued on for a long time, unable to fly because of the Grand Array; day turned to night and night to day before they reached their destination.
“Who was the Daoist Order’s founding ancestor?” Shen Yu asked.
“Strangely enough, no one in the sect has ever heard the founder’s true name.”
“How many years has the sect endured?”
“Over three thousand, I’d say.”
Shen Yu asked one question after another about the Daoist Order, which surprised Mingjian, but he answered as best he could.
At last, as dusk approached, Shen Yu said, “I’ve heard the sect has a hall where portraits of all the ancestral founders are kept. I’d like to see it.”
“No disciple may enter without the sect master’s decree—only the sect master and the four Hall Masters are permitted inside,” Mingjian replied. “But there is a statue of the founder in the square before the Ancestral Hall. You can visit that.”
The grounds of the Daoist Order were vast, the peaks uncountable.
Amidst the nearby sea of clouds rose a verdant mountain, its summit a spacious plateau called Verdant Terrace.
This was where the Inner Sect disciples studied and lived.
The most important place, the Treasure Division Cliff, lay just behind Verdant Terrace.
That was where Shen Yu was headed.
They climbed the mountain at a leisurely pace, finally reaching the broad expanse.
“It was rather sudden, your breakthrough,” Mingjian said. “You haven’t yet received your residential talisman. For tonight, you can stay with Shang Yingluo—I’ve heard you’re on good terms.”
After he finished, Mingjian’s lips moved as if to say more, and at last he softly added, “Thank you.”
Shen Yu nodded. He had long known Mingjian wanted to say those words.
When Mingjian left, Shen Yu turned and walked off in another direction.
...
Before the Ancestral Hall.
In the vast center of the square, thousands of stone steps led up to a rectangular platform of obsidian.
Shen Yu climbed the steps slowly.
The sky had begun to weep a gentle rain. The sound of rain and footsteps echoed across the empty square.
Shen Yu let the rain soak him, completely unconcerned.
At last, the youth ascended the high platform and beheld the towering statue.
“So, it’s you.”
The statue was of a man in long robes, hands clasped behind his back, gazing into the distance as though surveying all the mountains and rivers of the world—his bearing was extraordinary.
Even though the jade face was stiff and lifeless, Shen Yu recognized him at a glance.
The blue robe of the delicate youth billowed in the wind like surging waves. Anger, confusion, sorrow, astonishment—emotions swept over him one after another.
After a long moment, the youth closed his eyes. When he opened them again, all those tangled feelings had vanished, replaced by the calm and composure that seemed beyond his years.
“It’s been a long time. In the endless years, many lives have perished, many souls vanished, but I never thought you would be among them.”
“Only you could have founded such a great sect.”
“You loved the sword, not the path of Dao itself. You yearned for the sword cultivator’s fearless advance, unshackled and free. So why did you end up leaving behind the Daoist Order, and even inscribing on the cliff, with your own Dao intent, the words I once spoke?”
“What is it you wish to tell me?”
Shen Yu gazed at the statue, whispering softly.
Thunder rumbled. Rain crashed down in torrents.