Chapter Fifty-Six: Slicing Through the Heavens, Clearing the Skies

After returning to the Moyun Flying Vessel, Chen Heng pondered over the events of the day and could not help but smile wryly. Tushan Ge, curious, came over to inquire, so Chen Heng recounted everything to him.

“Since I began studying the Dao at Little Gan Mountain, everyone I’ve met has been like Yan Zhen and Yan Feichen—scheming and ruthless, using every possible means...” The two sat facing each other across the table. Chen Heng watched the steaming, emerald tea in his cup, the heat rising to his face, and let out a soft laugh. “Yet I had never seen such an upright sect as the White Crane Grotto. Today, seeing the brotherly affection among their disciples, I can’t help but feel a little envious.”

“Do you regret it, sir? If you had truly joined the White Crane Grotto, perhaps your life today would be entirely different,” Tushan Ge asked.

“Regret for the past is futile; understanding what is to come allows one to strive for it,” Chen Heng replied calmly. “Even if the road ahead is full of hardship, with the three-zhang sword in my hand, I will cleave open the heavens and carve out a world of pure frost and clear sky!”

Though his tone was even, Tushan Ge heard in it an unrestrained, deadly resolve, a wild, invigorating spirit that could not be constrained by heaven or earth. His own blood surged with excitement, and he nearly let out a long shout.

“Only such steadfastness leads to the Dao,” Tushan Ge said. “The path of immortality is all about contention—opportunities must be seized, techniques fought for, the favor of elders and positions within the sect all vied for! If you contest nothing, why bother cultivating the Dao at all? The White Crane Grotto can maintain its harmony only because it’s a minor sect; even among the great Eight Sects and Six Clans, among their disciples—” At this, Tushan Ge fell silent, shaking his head.

His former master had been too naïve, believing that fellow disciples could be wholly trusted, only to be schemed against and die on the eve of becoming a true disciple. Who knew if she would have the chance to cultivate the Dao again in her next life, or even where she had reincarnated—among the Four Seas of the Nine Provinces, or some other land or realm? Tushan Ge did not know.

They chatted a while longer, and after Tushan Ge took his leave, still full of sorrow, Chen Heng took out the jade slip given to him by the White Crane Grotto disciple. He spent half an hour reading it thoroughly, and found his expression shifting slightly.

“I was fretting over how to fence my loot and was short on talisman money, yet now Lord Huaiwu wishes to rebuild the Immortal Dao Market—this solves my immediate problem.”

In this era of great revelations, establishing a street market for immortals was no easy feat. The main manager of such a market needed not only immense cultivation to suppress troublemakers and maintain order, but also a sterling reputation to ensure that, at least outwardly, cheating and deception were kept at bay, so that visiting cultivators and merchants had no fear for their lives or property.

Though Lord Huaiwu was a rogue cultivator who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, his reputation was universally praised. People extolled his golden tongue and ancient air of integrity reminiscent of cultivators of old. The "Golden Valley Market" he established had, in just fifteen years, become a major trading hub in the Southern Region. At its busiest, nearly a thousand merchants and markets had set up shop there, paying tribute and receiving his protection. Clouds and lights soared day and night, rare beasts roamed everywhere, and all who came were true Daoists. Even powerful masters and artificers would come to seek rare items when needed.

However, a few years ago, Lord Huaiwu suddenly developed the ambition to seek a dragon in the Eastern Sea. The Golden Valley Market lost its head and, after struggling on for a few more months, ultimately fell apart and scattered to the winds.

It was said that the world of Xudu Tian encompassed the vastness of the Nine Provinces and the Four Seas: the Eastern, Western, Southern, and Northern Seas. The Eastern Sea was the domain of the Dragon Clan, renowned far and wide. The Southern Sea was home to twenty-four demon tribes. The Northern Sea, once rich in spiritual energy, had become a white, lifeless wasteland after an ancient upheaval, rarely mentioned. The Western Sea was a land of countless divine kingdoms, celestials, demons, and Buddhist realms—a place of extraordinary diversity.

Of the renowned Eight Sects and Six Clans, the Plague Sect alone did not place its headquarters in the Nine Provinces, but instead on a spiritual island in the Western Sea. Though the Four Seas could not compare to the cultivation powers of the Nine Provinces, they were still illustrious in their own right—none more so than the Eastern Sea, ruled by the dragons.

When Lord Huaiwu abandoned the Golden Valley Market to seek a dragon bride in the Eastern Sea, it became a laughingstock. Though the Eight Sects and Six Clans now ruled Xudu Tian with absolute authority, the old dragon lords of the Eastern Sea still lived, and had even shown their divine powers in the world. Their lifespans were immeasurable, and some had once been the peers of former supreme leaders of the great sects—a formidable legacy. For a mere rogue cultivator, not even of the Golden Core or Primordial Spirit stage, to seek a dragon princess from such a power was simply unthinkable, and his defeat was to be expected.

Now, upon his return to the Southern Region, Lord Huaiwu chose to rebuild the Golden Valley Market at Floating Jade Lake in the Dan Su Kingdom, not far from the State of Rong. This was good news for Chen Heng. From Yang Mountain, he could fly there in three to five days at most if he traveled non-stop. After the events in Yuanjing, Chen Heng had come into a windfall—he now had twelve spatial pouches and even more low-grade talisman artifacts.

Both his cultivation in the Art of Refining Qi and in the Supreme Jade Body required vast amounts of spiritual energy; he was eager to sell some of his superfluous possessions to advance further. Moreover, he wanted to purchase a mid-grade flying sword artifact. With his current mastery of swordsmanship, having such a sword would truly be like adding wings to a tiger.

In fact, back in Yuanjing, he had already asked Tushan Ge to look into such markets, but the result was always disappointing. The black markets were strict in their security, requiring credentials and concealing one’s appearance; any exposure meant immediate expulsion. Yet the goods were mostly mundane—salt permits, land deeds, slave records, and the like were everywhere. Occasionally, there were so-called martial manuals promising ascension, such as the Great Strength Divine Palm, the Five Tigers Gate-cleaving Blade, or the Overlord Spear, all hotly contested. As for talisman money or even low-grade artifacts, those were rarely seen in a decade, and the latter were virtually unavailable at any price.

Tushan Ge had visited several black markets, and while there were a few decent ones, overall they fell short. Thus, news of the reopening of the Golden Valley Market was of great importance to Chen Heng’s cultivation plans.

...

A day later, the Moyun Flying Vessel finally arrived at the borders of Yang Mountain. Upon seeing the familiar scenery he had not glimpsed in some time, Tushan Zhuang let out a cheer, leaping down as soon as the vessel landed and calling out at the top of his lungs.

At his shout, the usually silent Yang Mountain became lively at once, as white foxes emerged from the sacred domain by the back-mountain pool, filling the hills with their excited cries.

“You have worked hard, Daoist friend. Take your leave now. In a few days, when Lord Huaiwu rebuilds the Golden Valley Market, I will attend the opening ceremony. You may stay here at Yang Mountain,” Chen Heng said, watching Tushan Zhuang tumble about with the foxes.

“Don’t you need my company, sir?” Tushan Ge asked.

Chen Heng smiled and shook his head, giving a polite farewell before heading alone toward his quiet chamber in the heart of the mountain. By now, the frost and snow had melted away. Though the mountain wind still had a chill, the grass and trees were showing fresh green shoots, and buds had begun to appear.

He casually broke off a branch of golden plum blossom to admire as he walked the mountain path toward his cave dwelling. Along the way, bamboo groves and lush foliage spread out, with birds and insects calling in chorus, the air vibrant and clear, and streams murmuring.

After several hundred steps, he suddenly stopped. Near a large rock by the cave entrance lay a snow-white fox. She seemed exhausted from play, covering her eyes with her paws to keep out the early spring sunlight, her fluffy tail draped lazily over her head, shielding most of her body. If not for the melted snows, she might have been mistaken for a soft ball of snow.

Hearing footsteps, Tushan Ningning pricked up her ears, then, after a long pause, reluctantly stretched out her front paws, yawned, shook her head gloomily, and looked back.

Not far away, a young man stood quietly watching her, holding a broken plum branch, its red and white petals vivid as a sunset. “Yip yip! Yip yip!” Embarrassed at being caught napping, Tushan Ningning arched her back and barked at Chen Heng like a puppy, trying to look fierce.

“Napping in daylight instead of cultivating—truly a hopeless piece of wood,” Chen Heng said, glancing down at several clay figurines on the ground. They were comically shaped, and bore the marks of tiny paws, as if covered in plum blossoms.

“Is this Daoist Tushan? Or me?” Chen Heng laughed. “The head seems much too large, and the arms too short. But why do none of them have eyes?”

“Yip yip!” Tushan Ningning bristled, fur standing on end, tail sweeping the figurines behind her as she bared her teeth at Chen Heng.

“Daoist Tushan has returned, and Tushan Zhuang has brought back many things from Yuanjing. They must be looking for you,” Chen Heng said, moving the stone before the cave entrance aside. “If you don’t hurry, the food will all be gone.”

“Yip yip!” Tushan Ningning’s joy was immediate—her eyes narrowed with delight and she dashed off at full speed. But halfway there, she seemed to remember something, struggled to scoop up her clay figurines, and yipped repeatedly at Chen Heng.

Seeing that Chen Heng did not understand, she became so anxious her tail spun in circles like a waterwheel. “Write it down,” Chen Heng said, pointing to the ground.

Being a beast who had yet to refine her bones, she could not speak human language, and Chen Heng, not versed in beast-tongue, could not decipher her yips.

“Yip yip?” The little fox cocked her head, then nodded in sudden realization, and began carefully scratching in the dirt with her paw.

“Gift?” After a long moment studying her crooked, scrawled characters, Chen Heng finally deciphered them. “You want a present for my return?”

“Yip yip!” Tushan Ningning nodded approvingly, ears pricked high.

“This trip was rushed—next time I’ll make it up to you. But...” Seeing her whole fox body droop in disappointment, Chen Heng changed his tone. “I’ll give you this instead.”

Tushan Ningning’s spirits revived at once. Like a puppy, she wagged her tail and stared eagerly at his sleeve, hoping for something wonderful.

“In all of Jiangnan, there is nothing I can offer but a branch of spring,” Chen Heng said, placing the plum branch before her with a gentle smile. “I must return to my cultivation now—farewell.”

Tushan Ningning stared, stunned, as he walked into the cave and shut the stone door behind him. Only after a long time did she come back to herself and let out a resentful yip.

The little fox, grumbling, clutched her clay figurines and scampered off. But she had hardly entered the grass before she stealthily doubled back, glanced around to ensure no one was watching, gently picked up the plum branch in her mouth, and, with a gleeful flick of her tail, hurried away.

Inside the cave, a thin layer of dust covered the desk and bookshelves. With a sweep of his sleeve, Chen Heng cleared it away and sat cross-legged on the mat. Faintly, he could still hear Tushan Ge’s booming voice and the foxes’ cries outside.

Tushan Zhuang had brought back many new foods from Yuanjing, all unfamiliar to the foxes. Yang Mountain was bustling with excitement, reminiscent of mortal festivals.

Chen Heng ignored the commotion, smiled, and took out his talisman money to begin his cultivation. Three days later, when the appointed time arrived, he emerged from meditation in a flash of white light, soaring toward Floating Jade Lake in the Dan Su Kingdom.

...

“Miss, why did we send our spirit bodies to the Southern Region? Are we after that wrathful Yin Demon? How do you know it’s here?” The sky was vast and clear. A flying carriage soared through the clouds, inside which a chubby girl in green sprawled in every direction.

“If we capture that demon, Auntie’s chances of joining the Refuge Sect will be much greater, which will help me as well,” said the woman in white beside her. “Qing’er, do you dislike Auntie so much?”

“No, I just hate going out. If I have to dislike someone, I dislike Ai Jian even more... But why not let someone else help us?” The girl labored to turn over again. “And why are our spirit bodies so weak? What if we get killed on the way?”

“After I entered the sect, my master asked a Dao Lord to divine my fate. The reading said if I sent my spirit body here and captured the demon, I would encounter a great opportunity.” The woman shook her head. “As for our weak cultivation, that too was part of the divination. It’s as mysterious to me as it is to you, so...”

She tapped the girl’s forehead. “Be sure not to act so recklessly as before. Our cultivation is shallow in these bodies—if we die, it will cause trouble.”

Qing’er nodded indifferently and was about to cling to the woman’s arm when the carriage lurched violently, nearly throwing her out. The woman glanced out to see seven or eight figures rising to surround them, clearly up to no good.

“Big brother, we caught another heading to Floating Jade Lake! There’s no shortage of fat sheep today—we’ll have plenty for the old ancestor’s birthday celebration,” a yellow-robed cultivator laughed. Beside him, a pockmarked man grinned.

“Miss, we are the Seven Sons of Southern Miao. Our ancestor’s birthday is coming. If you’re sensible, just hand over some talisman money and we’ll let you go. If you refuse—” The pockmarked man swung his massive axe with a cold smile. “We’ll cut you to pieces and strip you of all your cultivation! Even in death, you’ll find no peace!”

The woman frowned, tempted to crush them all at once, but disinclined to cause trouble. She reached for some talisman money to buy them off.

“Wait, I’ve changed my mind!” The yellow-robed man, seeing that the woman, though veiled, had a graceful figure, felt his lust flare up. “My name is Huang Hao, the chief disciple of the Southern Miao Ancestor. Little beauty, you don’t have to pay. If you’re willing to spend a night with me, I’ll personally escort you to Floating Jade Lake and even give you thirty talisman coins after—how about it?”

The woman’s face turned icy.

“Go die, you wretch!” Qing’er exploded in fury. “I’ll smash your big head until it’s as small as your little one! Stick your neck out!”

“Humph!” Huang Hao sneered, about to use force, when a flying vessel appeared on the distant horizon. He exchanged a glance with his companions, and when the craft drew near, they intercepted it.

“Hey, you there, best get lost!” Huang Hao waved his axe menacingly. “Don’t try to play the hero—how many heads do you think you have to spare?”

“Help us out here!” Qing’er jumped and waved energetically at the approaching vessel.

After a moment, a calm voice called from the ship, “Please, go about your business. I have no wish to interfere.”

“What? How heartless! You’ll just watch as my mistress and I are robbed and defiled?” Qing’er sneered. “Cowardly wretch! What’s the use of growing so big?”

“What has it to do with me? I’m not the one robbing you,” the voice replied coolly. “If you don’t wish to be humiliated, I suggest you kill yourselves now.”