Chapter Nine: On the Way of the Dao

Time passed. Soon, a second disciple on Emerald Bamboo Peak reached the Initiation Realm.

Before Jiang Shaoqiu left, he made a point to visit Shen Yu’s courtyard.

Shen Yu had little impression of him and spoke indifferently, “Do you need something?”

Jiang Shaoqiu looked a bit embarrassed. After hesitating for a long time, he finally said, “Thank you for what you did in the Hall of Manifestation. It’s just… I think you have the potential to become one of the strongest in the Dao Sect, so… you should put more effort into your cultivation. Even with great talent, you can’t be too lazy.”

Having said that, Jiang Shaoqiu turned and left, leaving Shen Yu standing in the courtyard, somewhat baffled.

After that, more and more disciples broke through to the Initiation Realm.

Strangely, each of these disciples, upon leaving Emerald Bamboo Peak, would come by Shen Yu’s courtyard to say a few words, with an unusually respectful tone.

This left Shen Yu rather confused.

It wasn’t until one day, after her cultivation session, Yang Liu explained, “Back then, when you taught me some tips about the art of controlling objects… I accidentally told Jiang Shaoqiu and the others, and then everyone found out…”

Only then did Shen Yu finally understand.

In these days, Yang Liu’s cultivation had advanced rapidly; she was now on the verge of reaching the ninth layer of Qi Condensation. She had grown familiar with Shen Yu and would sometimes chat idly with him, but most of the time, she received no response—he had already fallen asleep.

Not far away, a figure in green stood atop the cliff, seeming somewhat desolate. When the morning sun rose, he slowly descended the mountain.

“That’s Master Mingjian. I wonder what happened—he stood there all night,” Yang Liu remarked. “He seems to have grown much more haggard all of a sudden.”

“Lost in the Dao, unable to break free,” Shen Yu glanced at the receding figure and shook his head gently.

“Brother Shen Yu…” Yang Liu tightened her grip on the bamboo flute in her hands, gathered her courage, and asked, “What do you think of my cultivation?”

Shen Yu pondered for a moment, then said, “Too slow, too shallow.”

The young girl, full of anticipation, was instantly disappointed by his words. She bit her lip, aggrieved.

“But…” Shen Yu’s lips curled in a faint smile. “Cultivation is a long road. You’re already stronger than many.”

Light flashed in the girl’s eyes. She lowered her head shyly, unable to hide the growing smile on her face.

Shen Yu ruffled the little girl’s hair. “I’ve heard there’s a female sword immortal in the north. If our Dao Sect in the southwest could produce a true female immortal, that would be something remarkable.”

“Yes!” Yang Liu nodded earnestly, then as if remembering something, asked curiously, “Back in the Hall of Manifestation, did you really knock out two people with a single blow?”

“No,” Shen Yu raised an eyebrow, “It was three.”

For the first time, Yang Liu sensed a note of pride in the otherwise indifferent youth, and was both surprised and a little speechless.

For someone who usually cared so little about anything, Shen Yu actually took pride in this.

In truth, there were many more things about this youth that were worthy of pride.

Shen Yu, sensing her thoughts, said, “To kill with a spiritual treasure or immortal artifact, or to reach a new realm in cultivation—those are things I take for granted.”

“But knocking someone out with a stick—now, that’s different.”

Yang Liu could not quite understand his reasoning, but she felt that for a moment, this person seemed to have a touch of human warmth. He could feel pride, care about certain things.

This version of Shen Yu was, perhaps, a little more interesting.

In an instant, the cicadas on the peak fell silent, and even the sea of clouds swirling about the mountaintop seemed to freeze.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Shen Yu slowly opened his eyes at the edge of the cliff. His blue robe fluttered without wind, his eyes gleaming with an unusual brilliance.

Yang Liu, who had seen many such changes of heaven and earth on Emerald Bamboo Peak, stared wide-eyed at the youth, excitement in her voice. “Brother Shen Yu…”

Shen Yu nodded. “I’ve reached Initiation.”

There was a faint sigh in his tone; his days here had been somewhat trying.

But to Yang Liu, his words sounded perfectly natural, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

More than a hundred disciples on Emerald Bamboo Peak cultivated day and night, some even sacrificing sleep and meals to practice.

Yet the youth before her spoke of his breakthrough so lightly. Yang Liu thought to herself that her senior truly was a strange and formidable person.

Shen Yu turned and ruffled the little girl’s hair once more.

Yang Liu seemed to realize something. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes.” Shen Yu replied, “Cultivation in the Daoist tradition values gradual progress. Don’t rush, don’t slack off.”

Yang Liu nodded, her voice tinged with envy, “If only I could be like you—sleeping, daydreaming, taking walks, and still reach Initiation.”

...

In an old, humble courtyard, Mingjian looked at the youth before him. “You’re here—though a little later than I’d expected.”

Back during the contest between the two peaks in the Hall of Manifestation, Mingjian had already known Shen Yu was at the ninth layer of Qi Condensation, but he hadn’t expected to wait so long.

“Cultivation is about insight,” Shen Yu replied. “Whether early or late makes no difference.”

Mingjian was taken aback, then smiled wryly. “That’s true. But perhaps the day of true understanding may never come.”

He sighed softly.

Watching the young ones advance and leave Emerald Bamboo Peak one by one, his own state of mind had shifted.

His cultivation had stagnated at the True Grotto Realm for far too long. Years of assiduous practice in the mountains and worldly experience had brought no progress—in fact, he felt himself slipping backwards.

This left him lost.

Collecting himself, Mingjian said, “I’ll submit your name. You can leave tomorrow.”

Shen Yu nodded and turned to go.

He had already noticed Mingjian’s predicament yesterday. In fact, he had sensed it during their trip to the Hall of Manifestation.

Lost in the Dao.

On the path of cultivation, there are always forks, doubts, and confusion. Sword cultivators prefer to cut through them with a single stroke; wanderers seek understanding in the space between life and death.

As for the Daoist tradition, only sudden enlightenment suffices.

Shen Yu paid it no mind. Such things could only be resolved by oneself, and besides, it had nothing to do with him.

As he left the courtyard, he noticed a fruit tree laden with spiritual fruits.

These fruits contained a trace of spiritual energy—enough to improve the meridians and aid the absorption of energy for those newly entered the Qi Condensation stage.

He recalled Yang Liu mentioning that Master Mingjian would deliver these spiritual fruits to the disciples of Emerald Bamboo Peak every few days. Shen Yu himself had eaten a few, finding them quite palatable.

As for Shang Yingluo, she treated them as snacks.

“Where lies the Dao?” Suddenly, Shen Yu turned back and asked.

Mingjian was perplexed.

Shen Yu looked at him and said, “After all these years of searching, have you ever considered—the Dao is within your own heart?”

Mingjian remained silent.

Shen Yu continued, “I have always felt that there is no real need for a sect like the Dao Sect to exist.”

Mingjian was instantly angered—such words! Absurd, outrageous! He was about to rebuke him when the youth interrupted.

“In this world, we have sword cultivators, scholars, Buddhists, wandering warriors, and us, the practitioners of energy refinement. What we all seek is the ultimate principle of heaven and earth, a transcendence of the mundane.”

“We seek freedom.”

“But the Dao Sect—its ranks and hierarchy are rigid, its rules and traditions strict. While it may offer countless ways to cultivate, it also binds people with endless shackles and rules. How can one transcend the heavens and earth like that?”

“All these years, your inability to reach the Wandering Spirit Realm must stem from the shackles in your heart. What is it to wander in spirit? To have a heart free of dust, a mind unbound.”

Shen Yu looked at him earnestly. “Your Dao heart… has long been tainted.”

Mingjian’s face turned pale, sweat beading on his brow.

For he realized that it was all true—there was no way to refute it.

The courtyard fell silent.

Mingjian stared intently at the youth before him and asked in earnest, “What should I do?”

“Of course—cut away those shackles.”

“When fog rises on the lake of your heart, disperse it with the wind.”

“When your Dao heart is clouded, sever it with the spiritual treasure in your grasp.”

The youth had already walked out the gate, but his resolute voice echoed from afar, “With my heart’s blade, I cut away the dust.”

Mingjian stood frozen in the courtyard, motionless, but his gaze gradually changed from confusion to growing clarity.

No one knew how much time passed before he closed his eyes and said in a low voice, “Sever the dust!”

Inside the house, a dust-laden horsetail whisk that had lain dormant for ages began to tremble.

...

Shen Yu, wandering among the forested slopes, came to a halt, gazing into the distance as if waiting for something.

Half an hour later, a pillar of white spiritual energy soared skyward from that courtyard, accompanied by the sound of breaking—like the shattering of ice, crisp and clear, echoing across all Emerald Bamboo Peak.

Every disciple on the mountain turned in astonishment toward the source.

Shen Yu smiled faintly.

It was the first time he had smiled since coming to the Dao Sect.

In three thousand years, there had been few who lingered in his heart—and Mingjian was not one of them.

Yet walking the great road of the Dao, to have one more companion—

That was a fine thing indeed.