Chapter 460: You Invite Immortals, I Invite Zhenwu

In the ancestral hall of Longhu Mountain, portraits of patriarchs from all generations hung on the Grand Tutor Wall. When the portrait of the first patriarch fell without a breeze, a sleepy Taoist boy guarding the hall turned pale with fright. Unwilling to touch the fallen scroll on his own, he rushed to report the incident to the Celestial Master's Residence. Zhao Danxia, the Feather-robed Premier responsible for all Taoist affairs across the land, swiftly entered the hall. He was overwhelmed with surprise and joy, though a sliver of worry persisted in his heart. Kneeling before the Grand Tutor Wall, he carefully lifted the scroll. Bai Yu, an outsider known as Master Bai Lian—who likened himself to a bookworm and whose eyes were strained from reading, causing his movements to be slow—slowly crossed the threshold. He squatted beside Zhao Danxia, who was robed in yellow and purple, and fell into deep thought. Zhao Danxia, the head of Liyang Taoism, quietly asked, "Good fortune and calamity are intrinsically intertwined. But in your opinion, Master Bai Lian, what proportion does each represent?"

Bai Yu shook his head. "The divination signs are incredibly chaotic," he began. "However, given that Ningshen could summon the first patriarch of Longhu Mountain, a feat that surpasses the summoning of three recent patriarchs a century ago—who used the Ten Thousand Li Heavenly Thunder to strike down Liu Songtao of the Demonic Cult—you can be entirely at ease about Ningshen's character. Since he is acting on behalf of Heaven, he will most likely use immense good fortune to avert disaster. I genuinely cannot imagine anyone else in the world capable of overpowering the first patriarch. While a select few, like Wang Xianzhi, might contend with him, Ningshen is sure to emerge victorious on Spring God Lake. This event will bring immense benefit to Longhu Mountain."

Zhao Danxia reverently hung the patriarch's portrait precisely in the center of the Grand Tutor Wall. After securing it, he again knelt and performed a kowtow. Rising, he took a few steps back, surveying the wall adorned with images of immortals from successive dynasties. Even he, a true man devoted to self-cultivation, felt a surge of exhilaration. These patriarchs, most of whom had achieved enlightenment and ascended, were Longhu Mountain's ultimate safeguard, having endured for nearly a millennium. In contrast, the Liyang Dynasty had only reigned for two hundred years. Had it not been for a malevolent dragon emerging from Dipai Mountain—the foremost Taoist blessed land—which became connected to Longhu Mountain and impacted the Purple Golden Lotus of the Dragon Pool's vital energy, this place would have become a self-sustaining pillar of fortune, comparable to the Heavenly Gate, guaranteeing immense blessings for the next five centuries. Zhao Danxia suppressed the lingering shadows in his heart. His mood brightened considerably as he recalled how Zhao Ningshen, a direct descendant of the Celestial Master's Residence, had astonishingly blocked Deng Tai'a's challenge sword. Stroking his beard, he chuckled, "With such a promising talent as Ningshen, who has summoned the patriarch so swiftly—two or three decades earlier than we expected—we no longer need to fear a gap in generations. And with Master Bai Lian's dedicated assistance, Longhu Mountain is now truly secure."

Suddenly, Bai Yu rubbed his eyes vigorously, his face contorted in horror as he stared at the dozens of portraits on the Grand Tutor Wall. Though Master Bai Lian's eyesight was poor, his inner perception was sharp, and he vaguely sensed an unusual phenomenon. With his profound Taoist cultivation, Zhao Danxia also detected the anomaly in the portraits just a moment after Bai Yu—an unprecedented sight of depleted energy among the vertically hung images! Almost all the patriarchs' portraits showed signs of their fortune dissipating; only the one resembling Qi Xianxia, in both form and spirit, remained unscathed. All others had suffered! Bai Yu mumbled distractedly, "Impossible, it's impossible."

The Feather-robed Premier was deeply unsettled. With a heavy thud, he knelt, his right palm covering the back of his left hand, and began to sob uncontrollably. "Your unworthy descendant Zhao Danxia kneels, begging for your mercy, revered patriarchs!" he cried.

Under the cloak of night, Longhu Mountain appeared tranquil, but fierce undercurrents surged beneath its calm exterior. Meanwhile, after a year of being closed off, most of Wudang Mountain's Taoist temples had reopened to pilgrims from all directions. However, the main temple, which housed a statue of Emperor Zhenwu, remained inaccessible to visitors. Chen You and Song Zhiming, among the most senior elderly Taoists, lived secluded lives, only occasionally entering or exiting this central temple. Fortunately, Wudang Mountain was accustomed to these benevolent old masters being elusive, unlike other famous Taoist mountains where even slightly senior Taoists were constantly busy entertaining dignitaries, leaving them no time for dedicated spiritual cultivation. After the elder abbot Wang Zhonglou, Longhu Mountain saw two young abbots take succession. Yet, Wudang Mountain's incense offerings, far from declining, grew increasingly prosperous. This brought a sense of joy to the Taoists and novices on the mountain. However, guided by the example of their senior true masters, they never felt that their growing popularity warranted condescension towards pilgrims. Even Li Yufu, the youngest abbot in Wudang's history, was like his junior uncle Hong Xixiang, indistinguishable from ordinary Taoists. Besides personally teaching daily lessons, he often set up a stall to tell fortunes and interpret divination slips for common pilgrims. Illiterate pilgrims would even ask him to write family letters for them after their slips were interpreted. Li Yufu never refused, writing in meticulous regular script. Pilgrims claimed their families became more prosperous after sending his letters. Initially, pilgrims from scholarly families tried to dissuade the common folk, arguing that disturbing the abbot in such a way would hinder the great true master's path to immortality. However, Li Yufu personally reassured everyone, explaining that cultivation was about becoming an ordinary person. Once an ordinary state of mind was achieved, it mattered little if one didn't become an immortal. Eating was cultivation, sleeping was cultivation, reading was cultivation, and writing was cultivation; big things and small things were all cultivation, which meant cultivating at all times. A proverb began to circulate in the martial arts world: "Others cultivate for immortality; Wudang cultivates for the ordinary."

Inside the temple, Chen You, the most senior Taoist in Wudang and responsible for discipline, stood solemnly at the threshold, gazing at the statue of Emperor Zhenwu within. Beside him stood Song Zhiming, over 140 years old and having lived through the reigns of four abbots, and Yu Xingrui, the master of the current Wudang abbot, Li Yufu.

The three true masters all wore extremely solemn expressions. Yu Xingrui, unable to hold his tongue, quietly asked his two senior brothers, "Ever since His Royal Highness returned to Beiliang after his second journey through the jianghu, he has been asking us about the differences between Wudang's and Longhu Mountain's methods of summoning deities. Given the scale of this Grand Zhou Tian Rite, which immortal with deep ties to Wudang does he wish to summon? Originally, if our junior brother had been willing to ascend, inviting Patriarch Lü to descend would not have been too difficult—at least, it would be slightly easier than attaining immortality, which is as hard as scaling the heavens. But then again, even if it's not impossibly difficult, with His Royal Highness's current cultivation—and considering that cultivation has never been his primary focus—even if Wudang were to perform a grand rite using all eighty-one peaks, it might not be enough to summon an enlightened immortal who, by heavenly law, should not be tainted by mortal affairs. Senior Brothers Chen and Song, to be honest, I have always been reluctant for Wudang Mountain to become involved in worldly struggles for power. It goes against Patriarch Lü's teachings!"

Song Zhiming smiled faintly. "Longhu Mountain is growing desperate," he said. "They're so eager to transfer all the vital energy of the Dragon Pool onto that young Celestial Master, just to awaken him. But cultivating the Tao is like climbing a mountain; one must ascend steadily, step by step. There's no principle where the mountain comes to you if you don't go to it. Longhu Mountain has indeed produced many immortals surnamed Zhao, but..."

Before the old Taoist could finish, Chen You suddenly turned around as a bolt of purple lightning struck between heaven and earth. Chen You frowned, remarking, "That young Celestial Master is indeed extraordinary, to forcibly attain enlightenment at such a young age. How much better it would have been if he had progressed gradually. If the world gains another truly deserving master, what does it matter if he surpasses Wudang?"

Unbeknownst to the three Wudang elders at that moment, the five characters "Exiled three thousand li" on the statue of Emperor Zhenwu behind them were gradually fading away.

On Spring God Lake, warships were as numerous as flax. Prince Jing'an, Zhao Xun, was personally present on a Yellow Dragon Tower Ship. Beside the prince, who was clad in a bright yellow python robe, stood a woman whose face was veiled in white gauze, her figure graceful. The strategist who had constantly shadowed him in Xiangfan was not with him today, a result of Zhao Xun's personal considerations. After the sudden death of the elder Prince Jing'an, Zhao Heng, the young prince had only a handful of trusted confidantes. Among these few, only one man and one woman were truly indispensable to him. There was no need to elaborate on the blind man, Lu Xu; both the former and current princes treated him as a national luminary. Zhao Xun understood well that, besides a precarious princely title, his father had bequeathed him the most valuable asset: that strategist of exceptional military acumen. Zhao Xun genuinely valued Lu Xu, even to the point of reverence. Precisely because of this, when Lu Xu intentionally or unintentionally displayed coldness towards the woman by his side, it put Zhao Xun in a difficult position, as he feared Lu Xu's displeasure. Despite being the esteemed ruler of Qingzhou and Xiangfan, he had never brought the woman into Prince Jing'an's residence, instead keeping her secretly in a lavish house within the city. For her sake, he had repeatedly postponed the matter of taking a consort, clearly demonstrating her importance in the young prince's heart.

Zhao Xun quietly reached out, attempting to take her hand, but she gave him a gentle glare. The young prince awkwardly withdrew his hand. Far from being annoyed by her lack of interest, he was filled with joy.

Only this kind of woman truly resembled the one he was destined never to obtain in this lifetime: the former Princess Jing'an, Pei Nanwei, who had ostensibly died as a martyr. If she were readily available and utterly obedient, even a woman with Pei Nanwei's exact face would have been treated as a mere trifle by Zhao Xun, and his favor would not have endured.

Zhao Xun surveyed his surroundings. In his eyes, the Qingzhou navy appeared magnificent and powerful, and he was confident he could make it even more formidable and invincible than the Guangling navy. Filled with ambition, he extended a hand, pointing to the river. "Nanwei," he declared with a grand gesture, "father could never control the Qingzhou navy, let alone make the Qing party submit. But I have done it, and in just one year!"

The woman gently said, "Mister Lu is a brilliant talent, lauded by both Grand Secretary Zhang and Grand Tutor Sun. He is already being undervalued in Xiangfan. You absolutely must not harbor any resentment towards him simply because he dislikes me. If Mister Lu were to merely defer to your preferences, then he would truly be underestimated."

Zhao Xun's heart swelled with even more joy upon hearing this. He nodded and said, "Rest assured about that. As long as I, Zhao Xun, possess wealth and power, Mister Lu will never suffer poverty. Whatever Prince Yanfu, Zhao Bing, could give to Nalan Youci, I will give Mister Lu even more."

The woman chastised him coolly, "What's the point of such empty words? You know perfectly well that Mister Lu doesn't care about fleeting fame or profit. Your character is far too superficial!"

Zhao Xun burst into laughter. "You're right," he said. "I should calm myself."

A moment of silence passed.

Zhao Xun gazed at the eight-hundred-li Spring God Lake and whispered, "One day, I will give you Spring God Lake. Zhao Xun swears this is true!"

The woman's lips curved upward.

Outside Xiangfan City, a group of travelers arrived in two carriages. Among them were a wealthy old man, a remarkably imposing man, a bloated fat pig, and several formidable retainers.

As they neared the reed marsh fork, both carriages halted simultaneously. The old man dismounted, walking with a slight limp, his hands on his hips. His hunched back was impossible to conceal. He murmured to himself, "Was it here that Wang Mingyin, the world's eleventh-ranked fighter, was killed? And where that old hag Zhao Heng's trusted cavalry general was pierced to death with a single spear?"

The fat pig waddled closer, chuckling, "Godfather, His Highness simply said 'draw' before the kill and 'sheathe' after. Just four words. That's when Ning Emei and the hundred Phoenix Camp soldiers were completely won over."

The old man, whose hands and face were already mottled with withered yellow spots, smiled. He squatted down, picked up a handful of dirt, held it in his palm, and gazed blankly at the reed clusters.

The old man murmured, "After Huang Zhengtu brought him back to Beiliang, he told me that the boy curses me daily, filled with resentment. Yet, he always finds excuses to visit places where I once fought, just to walk around and see."

The fat pig squatted down, finding it uncomfortable to hold his breath, and simply sat on the ground. He chuckled, "Godfather, His Highness has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. He puts on a tough front, but deep down, he truly admires you. Most sons are like that."

The old man merely smiled, tilted his palm, and watched the dirt slip through his fingers. "This child," he softly began, "who has both a sword god and loyal death-sworn guards desperately protecting him, and is so timid he won't even remove his soft armor when he sleeps... How did he go to Beiliang by himself? How did he dare to fight Fifth Moh to the death? The night before he left for Beiliang, he drank with me, and before he passed out drunk, he cried and told me he had a dream that wasn't a dream: on top of Kuanglu Mountain, a celestial being named Zhao Huangchao had detached his spirit and killed his mother's soul. He said that one day, sooner or later, he would slaughter that fellow. When this child first started practicing the blade, I didn't really think much of it. But I understand that desiring revenge is perfectly natural; whether one can succeed is a different story. However, once one desires revenge, whether one acts on it, and whether one gives up when facing hardships—that's yet another matter entirely. In terms of status, if you combine Liyang and Beiliang, or even go back to the Spring and Autumn Central Plains, those superior to him are too numerous to count on several hands. Yet, for someone his age to dare to kill Xu Huainan, to kill Fifth Moh, to kill Luoyang, to kill a celestial being, and to persist step by step in what he sets out to do... that is truly rare."

The old man wiped the hand that had held the dirt on his sleeve. From his other sleeve, he then produced a jade bracelet with only a few faint traces of green remaining. The green had faded so severely, and furthermore, the jade was young and of poor luster, making it worth very little. The old man chuckled, "When I was young, my judgment of women was unrivaled in the world, but my eye for these trinkets was utterly terrible. I was dead set on earning money to buy something presentable for my soon-to-be wife, but I could never save enough. So, I shamelessly borrowed fifty taels of silver from Xun Ping, and the result was, I bought this damned bracelet. A few days after I gave it to her, the green started fading, and I realized I had been terribly swindled. But the child's mother didn't mind; she always wore it."

The old man pressed the bracelet to his gaunt cheek; it felt cool. He softly said, "That night, Yang the bald monk came to drink with me. She said she was going out to buy more wine, and casually took off the bracelet, leaving it in the room. I didn't think much of it at the time."

The old man continued speaking, then put the bracelet back, slowly stood up, and calmly declared, "Whoever dares to hinder the scholars from moving north into Beiliang shall be killed."

Beiliang's rhinoceros-tiger has broken free, unknown to all!

Kuiaxue Manor, on the south bank of Spring God Lake.

The Taoist, cloaked in purple-gold, with an indistinct face and an overwhelming immortal aura, was either Zhao Ningshen of the Celestial Master's Residence or the first patriarch of Longhu Mountain.

When a common man rages, blood spills three feet. When an emperor rages, a million corpses lie fallen.

But what happens when an immortal rages?

The Taoist, whose imposing aura surpassed even that of Zhao Huangchao riding a dragon on Mount Kuanglu, roared, "Audacious mortal Xu Fengnian! You sow chaos in the human world with your dark artifacts, unaware that Heaven's net is vast and misses nothing! Under the majestic Heavenly Dao, why do you not surrender?!"

Spring God Lake surged, its massive waves rising dozens of feet high, almost reaching the manor's eaves. The Taoist floated upward, yet not a single drop of lake water spilled into Kuiaxue Manor.

Xu Fengnian laughed wildly, his laughter echoing throughout the manor.

The immortal flew into a furious rage; this wicked ant dared to be so insolent!

Xu Fengnian's laughter faded, and his expression became solemn. "You and that Zhao Huangchao," he declared, "open your eyes and see who the true mortal is!"

On Spring God Lake, the world suddenly brightened as if it were daylight.

Xu Fengnian closed his eyes, his hands held horizontally before his abdomen, standing as if leaning on a sword.

Spring God Lake was home to a massive turtle, and on its back rested a nameless heavenly stele.

The turtle's back, as large as a small mountain, slowly emerged into view.

Xu Fengnian stood atop its peak.

Behind him, a golden foot belonging to an immortal suddenly stepped onto the turtle's back.

A gigantic python rolled out of the lake, coiling around the massive turtle.

Following the golden foot, a magnificent golden body gradually manifested itself in the world.

A hundred *zhang* tall, it loomed over the world.

Emperor Zhenwu, commanded to guard the North, ruled over the position of Xuanwu.

Chants and immortal music continuously filled the air.

Heavenly maidens scattered flowers in the sky, appearing in a flash and vanishing just as swiftly.

The expressionless Xu Fengnian slowly began to speak, his voice as grand as a resonant bell. "Before Zhenwu, what celestial beings are there?"

The face of "Zhao Ningshen," who had earlier exuded an immortal majesty surpassing that of earthly emperors, now flickered erratically between blurry and clear. The purple-gold aura around him instantly became unsustainable. With a mere trace of hesitation, the hundred-*zhang* tall golden-bodied Emperor Zhenwu raised his hand, and a massive, insubstantial sword cleaved directly down.

It directly shattered the so-called celestial body of Longhu Mountain's first patriarch.

A thousand *li* away, the Dragon Pool of the Celestial Master's Residence boiled. Not a single one of the previously blooming fortune lotuses remained; all had withered and perished, leaving only a tiny, helpless bud drifting.

A middle-aged Taoist living in a thatched hut on Longhu Mountain was furious and utterly discomposed, his body seemingly bound by the supreme Heavenly Dao. His knees were forcibly pressed to the ground, leaving two indentations, and his head was also forced down.

The Taoist faced Zhenwu, prostrating himself completely.