Chapter Twenty-Two: The Spirit Carp
The sky gradually brightened.
Many disciples who remained at the foot of Treasure Cliff had yet to recover from the events of the day. Too many astonishing things had happened. For example, the youngest junior sister had suddenly become the youngest junior aunt; the senior brother from the Hall of Clear Discipline had been defeated by a newly admitted disciple; and most shocking of all, Shen Yu seemed poised to become the sect leader’s personal disciple.
Some people cast curious glances at Jiang Shaoqiu. Shang Yingluo had inherited the legacy of the previous master of the Hall of True Crossing, while Jiang Shaoqiu had received the natal spiritual treasure of the Pure Yang Patriarch—might he surprise everyone yet again?
At that moment, elders from the four halls and seven peaks began to depart, taking their chosen new disciples with them, streaking through the sky. As the little girl prepared to leave, she came to say farewell to Jiang Shaoqiu, then patted Ye Zhiqiu on the shoulder and said, “Little junior nephew, you mustn’t slack off in your cultivation.”
Jiang Shaoqiu nodded with a smile, while Ye Zhiqiu rolled his eyes, speechless. The girl’s behavior elicited hearty laughter from the elders; she was indeed an amusing disciple.
Yan Qingshu did not leave, for there were still many disciples who had yet to inherit a spiritual treasure and needed her guidance in their practice.
On the way, Zhou Yi noticed Jiang Shaoqiu’s silent demeanor and smiled, saying, “What’s wrong? Do you want to become the sect leader’s personal disciple too? Or would you like to be Master Dao Xuan’s junior brother?”
“Ah, I wouldn’t dare think such a thing,” replied Jiang Shaoqiu, waving his hands, his expression turning more bitter.
As they walked at the foot of the mountain, a disciple looked up at the sky, where several beams of light streaked across, and asked curiously, “Aunt Yan, isn’t flight forbidden within the sect’s inner grounds? The mountain-guarding formation would obliterate anyone who tried.”
“The mountain-guarding formation is imbued with the aura of ten thousand spiritual treasures and would indeed suppress intruders,” Yan Qingshu explained. “But Master Dao Fan has already reached the Divine Roaming stage. What came today was merely his Yang Spirit avatar.”
Upon hearing this, the disciples were stirred with excitement.
Once more, the sea of clouds veiled Treasure Cliff, mist and mountains entwined.
...
Deep within the sect, a mountain floated in midair. The entire peak stood tall and majestic, shrouded by vast clouds and mist, with several waterfalls cascading down its sides. At the summit lay a broad, flat ground.
A few unremarkable courtyards with white walls were scattered there, their fronts filled with birdsong and flowers, bridges arching over streams. As sunlight spilled down, the place seemed like a celestial realm.
This was the heart of the sect, home to the continent’s greatest cultivators. The Hall of Deep Sanctity was nothing more than a collection of simple courtyards.
A flash of flowing light passed by.
The Daoist and the youth arrived at the foot of the mountain.
Shen Yu gazed at the floating peak with admiration. “In the past, it was said that a divine mountain from beyond the heavens hovered over this continent, ethereal and elusive. I never imagined it would be here, in the sect.”
Dao Fan looked at him with surprise. “This is called the Flying Peak. Our patriarch discovered it in the far west while wandering and used great power to bring it here. Inside the peak lies an innate spiritual treasure imbued with primal magnetic force, which allows it to float.”
Shen Yu nodded slightly. “So, there’s no way to fly directly to the summit.”
Dao Fan replied, “Indeed. The magnetic force here is too strong; no matter who you are, you must walk up. Besides…” He paused.
Shen Yu glanced at him. “Speak plainly.”
Dao Fan said, “The sect leader has not issued a decree to accept you as a personal disciple. He remains in seclusion within his cave paradise.”
Shen Yu was not surprised and responded with a faint “oh.” When he first arrived, he had not felt the repulsive force of heaven and earth against ascended cultivators; unless one had entered the legendary immortal realm, that would be another matter.
“Before he secluded himself, the sect leader left instructions that I must bring the strongest disciple of this generation here,” Dao Fan said, his lean face showing a hint of satisfaction. “Since the Hall of Law Derivation, I’ve watched you progress—through the Way of the Heart and atop Treasure Cliff. To complete the spiritual treasure inheritance in twelve hours, in the thousand-year history of the sect, you are only the second.”
To obtain a spiritual treasure, and to be recognized as its master, are worlds apart. Most spiritual treasures atop Treasure Cliff are innate, and their recognition depends greatly on fate.
Shen Yu was not curious about who the first was. “What should I do?”
Dao Fan pointed to the winding stone path leading up the mountain. “Walk up. If you do, you will be the sect leader’s personal disciple.”
In the wilds of the mountains and seas, to become the sect’s personal disciple was the dream of every cultivator; none would hesitate.
Shen Yu pondered for a long time before asking, “Will life on the mountain be boring?”
Dao Fan smiled. “No. There is someone on the mountain, a few spiritual beasts, and the air is very fresh.”
“Oh.” Shen Yu considered, then said reluctantly, “I’ll go have a look then.”
...
Only seven days were given; Dao Fan set a deadline for Shen Yu before departing.
He specifically advised the youth not to rush up the mountain, but first to adjust his mind and restore his power, for the ordeal on Treasure Cliff had drained him greatly.
To Dao Fan’s surprise, the youth actually rested for six days.
Shen Yu found a small stone cave at the foot of the mountain, just big enough for one person, empty except for its shelter from wind and rain. He sat there cross-legged.
On the second day, Dao Fan passed by and saw Shen Yu sitting inside. His expression was strange, as if wanting to speak, but he said nothing.
On the third day, Dao Fan did not come.
On the fourth day, seeing the youth still not ascending, Dao Fan sighed and left.
On the fifth day, Dao Fan finally spoke. “Why haven’t you gone up yet?”
“My power hasn’t recovered.”
“This path is not guarded by any strong force. The sect leader values temperament, not power.”
“Oh.”
“That’s right.”
“Then I’ll wait another day.”
“...”
On the sixth day, Shen Yu still sat cross-legged in the cave.
On the seventh morning, the youth awoke and exhaled deeply; some color finally returned to his pale face.
These six days, he was not restoring his power, but healing internal injuries.
...
That day atop Treasure Cliff, the fierce battle with a cultivator of the True Cave Realm had left his organs almost displaced, and worse, the black-clad man’s natal spiritual treasure had left a lingering aura inside him, slicing at his insides without respite.
An ordinary person would have already fainted in agony.
But Shen Yu did not.
He not only suppressed the spiritual treasure’s aura, but also completed the inheritance of spiritual lake nurturing with Jingqing, then descended the mountain, gambled with Chen Jianzhi, parted ways with Shang Yingluo—all without showing a hint of pain.
Such temperament and endurance—who in this world could compare?
Thus, the so-called trial of the mountain path was, for Shen Yu, far too easy.
...
Shen Yu left the cave, somewhat dissatisfied with the place.
Not only was it small, it had a peculiar odor; during his days spent healing in silence, he could vaguely hear a dog barking day and night, though he never understood what it was yapping about.
Still, Shen Yu did not pay it much mind. Cultivators need not concern themselves with external discomforts; he thought that since the cave had sheltered him for a few days, perhaps it could be expanded in the future to serve as a cool retreat.
“This place truly isn’t fit for people,” Shen Yu murmured as he turned to leave.
Soon, a yellow mongrel emerged from the grass, gazing wistfully at his receding figure before lying down in the cave.
...
Shen Yu walked along, encountering no restrictions. The three-foot-wide stone path was shrouded in mist, mountain winds carrying faint lan flower fragrance.
With the sound of flowing water, the youth arrived at an arched bridge.
Beneath the bridge lay a deep, unfathomable pool, dark green in color.
Suddenly, the tranquil pool surged with waves, and a black dragon leapt out, its massive body sending up countless droplets that rained onto the bridge.
Shen Yu looked at the long claws on its belly and the few whiskers drifting from its mouth, and raised his brows. “A flood dragon?”
True dragons had vanished from the world, but some giant serpents, after a thousand years of cultivation and a stroke of fortune, could transform into flood dragons, creatures so powerful they could rival some immortal realm experts.
He was surprised to find such a beast in the Hall of Deep Sanctity’s pool.
Roar!
The flood dragon let out a thunderous roar, the force whipping Shen Yu’s robe and scattering leaves and twigs everywhere.
The creature moved its massive head to the bridge, its dark eyes coldly fixed on the youth.
...
Silence.
The flood dragon stared at Shen Yu; Shen Yu stared at the flood dragon.
With calm expression, Shen Yu spoke, “Come over here, then.”
The flood dragon did not move, but continued to glare.
Shen Yu said, “If you won’t come over, I’ll go to you.”
With that, he stepped onto the bridge.