Volume One: Youthful Encounters at the Dawn Chapter 103: The Man at the Summit, Finally Revealed Today

Li Yu’s expression hovered between a smile and a frown, tears and laughter mingling as he said, “Orders from my master? If you want me to obey, let my master himself give the command. He’s not here, so I won’t listen to anyone else.”

Over the years, Li Yu had learned much from the Daoist—though much of it was self-taught, one trait was unmistakably inherited: his stubbornness.

Once they set their minds on something, no person or event could sway them.

Chenyuan, observing Li Yu’s temperament so much like the Daoist’s, felt a deep sense of helplessness rise within him. With a sigh, he said, “Very well, I won’t force you. After all, this is your sect’s business. But we must move to a safer place—if a great battle erupts here, and we’re too close, I won’t be able to protect you.”

Upon hearing this, Li Yu relented.

The others, sensing Chenyuan’s formidable aura, understood that he was a powerful cultivator. If even he could not withstand the impending battle, none of them stood a chance.

Heeding Chenyuan’s words, they quietly withdrew to a spot not far away—close enough to observe, yet far enough to ensure their own safety.

While waiting, Chenyuan tended to Xu Kaijiang’s injuries. Feeling the qi healing Xu’s internal organs, he raised his estimation of Li Yu’s abilities.

At such a young age, to master such a subtle formation technique and also possess medical knowledge—his healing methods clearly stemmed from the Daoist tradition.

Chenyuan couldn’t help but murmur inwardly, “This young one knows quite a lot.”

Curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, “Tell me, were your formation skills and medical knowledge taught by your master?”

Li Yu, not in the mood for idle chatter, replied briefly, “Formation self-taught, medicine taught by my master.”

Chenyuan’s surprise lessened somewhat. Self-discovered formations were impressive enough; if he had truly learned medicine independently to such a level, his talent would be extraordinary.

In truth, even mastering formations alone to this degree was enough to astonish him.

What Chenyuan did not know was that the Daoist had only taught Li Yu medical skills once—after that, regardless of his progress, no further instruction would come.

Whenever the Daoist imparted knowledge, Li Yu studied with complete focus, afraid to miss a single detail. He had always wished to learn medicine, believing it superior to mere book learning; books could not heal or aid others, but medicine could save lives and better care for loved ones.

Once the Daoist took him to Tianmen Town, he quickly discerned this and began teaching Li Yu Daoist scriptures alongside his own medical knowledge, leaving how much Li Yu absorbed to his innate talent and understanding.

Unexpectedly, Li Yu exceeded expectations, building upon the Daoist’s limited medical knowledge and taking a small but significant step forward.

True Daoist medicine, when perfected, was called Celestial Medicine.

A Celestial Doctor could heal humans, immortals, and even treat intangible beings and formless spirits.

Of course, this was legendary; Li Yu had not yet reached such heights. For now, his sole concern was how to assist his master.

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The disturbance at Tianmen was so great that even regions beyond the town felt the tremors, not to mention the town itself.

At this moment, the elders of the five great families emerged from their secluded chambers. Staring toward the opening of Tianmen, their faces stirred with excitement.

The fourth elder, Zhang Xi, exclaimed eagerly, “After all these years, the day has finally come.”

The eldest, Wang Zhong, solemnly nodded toward Tianmen’s direction. “Indeed. Our long efforts have not been in vain.”

Elder Zhao Dong asked, “Brother, what shall we do next?”

“Wait.”

All understood that waiting was their only option for now.

No one knew what exactly triggered Tianmen’s opening or whether approaching it was safe.

They awaited not just the portal’s opening but the signal that passage through Tianmen would be safe. At their level of cultivation, nothing mattered more than the prospect of ascension or the threat of death.

Elsewhere, within a mountain north of Tianmen Town, an ancient tomb emitted bursts of Dao energy. The air grew chillingly sinister, a dark and malevolent aura seeping out, coating nearby branches and grass with a silvery frost.

A streak of green light shot from the tomb, coalescing into the form of an elderly woman, her hair streaked with gray and her face furrowed with age. She took out a comb, gently tidying her graying temples, then gazed toward the opening of Tianmen.

“After years of plotting, the day has finally arrived.”

The green light dissipated, and she vanished.

At the same time, beneath another mountain to the north, two ancient eyes, long dormant, suddenly opened. Their cloudy gaze held a weariness born of time, which soon gave way to a sharp intelligence.

“She’s swift, but what of it? Is Tianmen really so easy to enter?”

Speaking thus, his form shrank, transforming first into a beast made of stone and earth.

Yet this was not his final form. Slowly, layers of stone and soil peeled away, revealing a middle-aged man.

He brushed off invisible dust, scowled at his surroundings, and muttered, “I never want to return to this blasted place.”

With that, he too vanished.

Similar scenes played out throughout Tianmen Town, where those who had schemed and hidden for years now awaited the portal’s opening to seize the chance to ascend from the mortal realm.

An old woman at a paper-offering shop was among them. After finishing crafting her last paper effigy, she marked its forehead with a dot of vermilion cinnabar, whispering, “A touch of spirit on the brow, soul rising from the Nine Nether.”

The paper figure’s lips curled into a chilling grin, emitting an eerie cackling.

The woman smiled faintly, washed her hands in a basin nearby, picked up a ledger and brush, then disappeared.

The town’s tavern had long since closed; all eyes were fixed on the grand prayer ceremony held outside for Tianmen. With no one hungry, there were no cooks.

The tavern owner and waiter, drawn by the commotion, left, leaving the cook in the courtyard slicing some braised beef and drinking strong liquor with a hearty swagger.

Before leaving, the owner asked, “Old Luo, don’t you want to join the festivities?”

Old Luo took a long swallow of wine. “What for? It’s all just empty showboating.”

Old Luo’s cynical demeanor wasn’t new; he had lived in Tianmen Town for years, indifferent to outsiders, only speaking to a select few locals. The rest, he barely regarded.

Seeing he truly had no intention of joining, the owner closed the door and, nudged by his assistant, headed toward the town square.

No one heard Old Luo’s lament as he awaited the prayer ceremony. He looked around sadly and said, “Such a fine place, soon to lose so many. I wonder if Tianmen Town will survive.”

He poured a cup of wine, then spilled it onto the ground. “Thank you for your care all these years. I can only do my best to help, to keep Tianmen Town’s legacy alive.”

His words were soft and seemingly powerless, but that very frailty stirred a mournful resonance throughout the town.

Tianmen Town, standing isolated for so long, had sheltered countless souls and suppressed the endless years of Tianmen itself. Yet people’s ambitions now threatened to destroy this ancient, solitary, venerable place—one that could rival the sages of old in cultivation.

At this critical moment, only the Daoist and Old Luo truly cared for the town’s fate, evoking a profound sorrow.

At that time, the Daoist was on his way to find Liuguang when he heard the town’s sigh. He realized he was not alone in wanting to do something for Tianmen Town. A slight perception later, he knew who it was.

“It’s him! Among the elderly cultivators here, he’s the only one still human,” he murmured.

With that, he sent forth a spiritual projection toward Old Luo, while his true self went to find Liuguang for final instructions.

When the Daoist arrived at Old Luo’s courtyard, the old man was finishing his last cup. Just as he set it down to seek the Daoist, he saw the other standing calmly at the gate, observing him.

Old Luo sighed appreciatively, “You truly have reached that legendary realm. Remarkable.”

The Daoist moved gracefully, stepping forward to stand before him. “I know your plans. This journey may well be one-way. Your cultivation is insufficient; if danger arises, escape will be difficult. This is my own creation—a technique to move without gaps. May it aid your escape should you face peril.”

Old Luo was no fool; he immediately recognized the technique’s profound subtlety. He had not expected the Daoist to consider providing an escape.

Without hesitation, he cupped his hands in thanks. “Much appreciated!”

The Daoist waved dismissively. “No thanks needed. You are human; they are not. My teachings are only for humans, not for those who are not.”

Old Luo was momentarily speechless. He recalled how he had once urged Li Yu to ask the Daoist his intentions, only to be met with silence and indifference. Now the Daoist came to him directly.

He teased, “I tried to help before but got the cold shoulder. Now you come knocking yourself. Is that how you sages usually operate?”

“Who knows if you were human then? Besides, I’m not here for help. I could accomplish what I intend alone. I came because I cannot bear to see a man die at the hands of those who are not human.” The Daoist’s gaze was sharp, as if thinking, “How did such a fool reach this level of cultivation?”

Old Luo quickly mastered the technique taught. Though he appeared somewhat dazed, his cultivation talent was no small matter; otherwise, he would never have survived so long, hidden in Tianmen Town’s complex environment.

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