Chapter Four: The Master of the Mystic Truth Sect

Mount Gan was nestled at the junction of the three kingdoms of Rong, Dansu, and Zheng, boasting eleven peaks, nine great cliffs and ridges, and twenty waterfalls and pools. In the vast southern region of Dongmi Prefecture, it had once been counted among the four hundred famous mountains of the south.

Its natural splendor and wonders needed no further praise.

As the chosen seat of the sect, the Xuan Zhen Sect had, since its establishment here by its master thirty years prior, set up five halls: the Hall of Discipline, the Hall of Merit, the Hall of Service, the Hall of Spirit Nurturing, and the Elders’ Hall, each overseeing different affairs of the sect.

By the time Chen Heng arrived at the Hall of Service on Huiyue Peak, the broad plaza, spacious enough to hold a thousand, already had some four to five hundred people scattered about.

In the distant sky, more Daoists could be seen manipulating their true qi, descending from above in a dazzling display of colored light—like a cascade of fire and silver, breathtaking to behold.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Senior Sister.” Chen Heng bowed to the graceful female cultivator beside him.

She was enveloped in a radiant aura of amethyst-blue true qi, her alluring form half-veiled, half-revealed, like a beauty glimpsed through mist, accentuating her charm.

From Luoxia Peak where Chen Heng resided to Huiyue Peak, even if he set out at noon and walked until dusk, he would scarcely make it on foot.

Originally, he had intended to wait for Xu Zhi to escort him, but after only a few steps, this smiling female cultivator had swept him up with her true qi, leaving him no room to refuse.

Fortunately, she harbored no ill intent.

Overwhelmed by circumstances, Chen Heng surrendered to her guidance.

“You really do have a lovely smile, Nephew. No, even without smiling, you’re exceedingly handsome… No wonder Yan Zhen went to such lengths for you…”

Today, Chen Heng wore a robe of moon-white, and over it, a black-gold crane cloak to guard against the mountain wind. With his wide sleeves and elegant bearing, he stood out among hundreds of Daoists like a crane among chickens, his presence otherworldly and refined.

The female cultivator’s eyes lingered on his distinguished features, her throat bobbing slightly, her gaze growing ever more ardent.

“Do you know my name, Nephew? Remember it: I am Yu Wanchou. If you find yourself faltering in the Abyss, just call for me at any time.”

The bustling grounds fell suddenly silent upon Chen Heng’s arrival.

Seeing this, Yu Wanchou, reluctant though she was, pressed a communication jade token into Chen Heng’s palm, smiled softly, and withdrew.

“A message jade?”

Chen Heng tucked it away, but suddenly felt a chill down his spine, as though a predator were watching him.

He turned to look.

In the crowd, a man in a yellow robe, brows sharp and fierce, was glaring at him with unveiled murderous intent, his face contorted with rage.

“Yan Ping?”

Chen Heng glanced at him coldly, an indifferent smile on his lips.

Yan Ping, provoked by this dismissive attitude, let his true qi surge violently, like storm winds and raging waves.

Yet, under so many eyes, though he longed to cut Chen Heng down where he stood, he forced himself to suppress his killing intent, turning aside with trembling lips and a face gone ashen.

Chen Heng paid him no further mind, seeking out a windless spot, wrapping his cloak tightly about him, and closing his eyes in stillness.

Another half-stick of incense passed.

When all those summoned by the sect had gathered, a sudden peal of thunder erupted from the sky, and within mere breaths, a palace of azure jade descended.

Within, the three elders—Yan Feichen, Gu Jun, and Master Cheng Ji—were seated in their places. Upon the Crane Cloud Couch at the heart of the palace, a young man of commanding appearance sat in meditation.

He had a nose like a suspended gallbladder, brows that swept into his temples, and skin as fair and smooth as an infant’s. He looked to be twenty-five or six, dressed in a jade robe with a purple-gold coronet, arrayed not as a cultivator but as a noble of some secular dynasty.

“Greetings, Sect Master and Elders.”

The gathered Daoists bowed toward the palace in unison.

“Those who have come to Huiyue Peak today have all received the Abyss Talisman from the Hall of Service. The Abyss is a place of utmost yin and peril. Its dangers and taboos are detailed in the Daoist texts; I need not repeat them.”

The young man upon the Crane Cloud Couch smiled faintly. With but a movement, he was like a great sun descending from the clouds, divine radiance illuminating all.

To hundreds below, his voice resounded clear and deep, as if beside their ears:

“Today, I have but one thing to say.

Any who can hunt for me either the Shadow Mare or the Human-faced Ganoderma shall be credited with three hundred merits, awarded eight thousand talisman coins, eight techniques of the Middle Path, and three taels of jade marrow. There is no upper limit—bring as many as you can, the more the better!”

As his words fell, boundless primal qi in the form of tigers and dragons rose from the crown of the young man’s head, swirling endlessly around him, their supernatural nature apparent at a glance.

“Go.”

With a gesture, he sent out fine tendrils of this primal qi, which settled upon the red cords tied around the wrists of those present.

Chen Heng felt his cord tremble, as a gentle, profound energy surged within him, warming his body numbed by the mountain wind. Even the cold, sluggish true qi within him eased for a moment.

“Marvelous! Marvelous! The Sect Master truly lives up to the reputation of the illustrious Ai clan of Shangxiang! Such mastery of qi manipulation—I, an old Daoist, must concede my inferiority!”

Within the palace, Master Cheng Ji, his beard sweeping the floor, applauded, a fawning smile creasing his round face.

Even the proud Yan Feichen was momentarily taken aback, his gaze complex and obscure.

Though he, too, had reached the first realm of Profound Insight—the Tiger-Dragon Cauldron—he could not hope to divide his primal qi in such abundance.

“It seems this young man has not only refined the Five Essences, but has likely condensed the Innate Mercury as well. Formation of the Golden Core cannot be far off!”

Yan Feichen silently clenched his trembling fists.

If so, their original plans would have to be amended.

…

“I have bestowed upon you a strand of my own Tiger-Dragon Primal Qi, bound to your red cords. With it in hand, the ghosts and monsters of the Abyss will shrink from you.”

Once more the young man flicked his sleeve, and beams of light containing elixirs and talisman coins rained down from the palace eaves, like a shower of falling stars.

Chen Heng caught the light meant for him, and upon seeing two bottles of white porcelain pills within, felt a weight lift from his heart.

“On the summer solstice next year, when yang reaches its peak and yin is at its lowest, I shall personally lead you into the Abyss.”

Another thunderclap split the sky.

The azure palace soared aloft, rising to the heights of the clouds, leaving only the young man’s lingering voice echoing in the air.

…

Returning to his abode, Chen Heng bade farewell to Xu Zhi, who had accompanied him, closed the doors, and settled himself cross-legged on his meditation mat. He poured out a single Small White Sun Pill.

The pill was no larger than a bean, yet as it rested in his palm, it radiated a faint heat, its surface exuding a peculiar, indescribable fragrance.

He studied it for a moment, then without hesitation, dropped it into a cup of clear water and drank it down in one draught.