Volume One: Youthful Encounters in Subtle Times Chapter 106: The Man at the Summit, Finally Revealed Today (Part 4)

The current situation in Tianmen Town appears as still as a stagnant pond—so calm it unnerves—but no one knows how many raging currents and hidden whirlpools lie beneath that tranquil surface.

The words of the Ancestor of the Ten Thousand Beasts Sect were like a stone cast into the water, shattering the last remaining possibility of calm. From bottom to top, from low to high, all the concealed anger and turmoil surged up in an instant, piling one upon another.

First to appear was the elderly woman from the paper-offering shop. In her left hand, she held a ledger; in her right, a brush. Her face bore a strangely normal flush of health, yet her appearance and stature were unmistakably aged. The healthy glow that usually adorned the young now seemed incongruous on her aged visage.

Her steps were not fast, yet before long, she had arrived from the distant horizon to the center of the gathering.

Elder Huang of the Yin Mountain Sect saw her and hurried forward to pay respects, greeting, “Ancestor, may you be well!”

The old woman glanced at Elder Huang, waved her off, and coldly said, “Well done. You will be the next Supreme Elder.”

Hearing this, Elder Huang’s face lit up with joy, and he quickly expressed his gratitude to her.

The Ancestor of the Ten Thousand Beasts Sect, Modi, cast a measuring look toward the Yin Mountain Sect’s Ancestor and remarked, “Wang Lian, you’ve lived well these years, haven’t you?”

Wang Lian was not to be outdone and returned the gaze with equal measure, “Not as well as you. At least I look old, but you still look so youthful.”

Their banter was lost on everyone else. Only Li Zhonghong and Xie Tong could sense some of the subtlety, though they dared not speak openly, only harboring a deeper wariness of these ancient ancestors.

Old Luo, overhearing their repartee in the void, puzzledly asked Daoist Lin, “Daoist, what do they mean by that?”

Daoist Lin replied with disdain, “That old woman Wang Lian has been running a paper-offering business in Tianmen Town all these years. Everyone who buys paper offerings, incense, or sacrifices from her unknowingly loses a bit of their lifespan and vitality. Otherwise, how else could she survive so long here, living openly under the sun?”

He then explained Modi’s case: “As for Modi, that old immortal, he dwells in the mountains around Tianmen Town, siphoning the earth’s energy to maintain his eternal youth. If it weren’t for Tianmen Town’s unique geography, after so many years of his draining the spiritual energy, the town’s feng shui would have been depleted long ago.”

Old Luo was shocked and asked, “Isn’t this the same as the methods of the demonic path?”

Daoist Lin sneered, “If they’ve lived this long, do you think they’re still human?”

Indeed, Daoist Lin was right. For those who have cultivated to the Fourteenth Realm but cannot find the path to the Fifteenth or ascend, even the longest life will eventually exhaust. At that moment, how to fix one’s life at a certain point becomes the greatest problem.

Some, like those from Great Sword Green Mountain, suppress their cultivation but still increase it gradually; others stagnate, hiding within the Sword Tomb, using the accumulated sword qi to suppress themselves. They cannot leave the tomb, effectively self-sealed, yet they remain human—flesh and blood.

Those who reach the highest echelons without forgetting their original intention, who do not sacrifice the world’s good for personal gain, have already surpassed many in the path of cultivation.

This is why Daoist Lin harbors a slight favor for those of Great Sword Green Mountain—but only that.

Wang Lian and Modi did not continue their conversation; they had long been aware of each other’s existence and tacitly understood each other’s deeds. Now, they awaited the arrival of others. What could they accomplish alone?

Soon, a third person appeared.

The third’s arrival was unexpected—especially to Wang Lian and Modi.

The newcomer did not descend from the sky nor stride forward from afar. Instead, two seemingly unrelated individuals stepped out from the crowd, approaching each other until they merged into one.

The townsfolk, witnessing this transformation, were dumbfounded. They never imagined two unrelated people could combine into a single being—it seemed a miracle to them.

The others from various sects were equally startled and filled with deep dread.

If such a technique truly existed, might their own sects harbor such individuals?

After merging, the figure bowed to Wang Lian of the Yin Mountain Sect and said, “Daoist, over the years you have absorbed much of my lifespan and vitality!”

Wang Lian did not expect such a brazen declaration. A flicker of panic crossed her face but was quickly masked by a sly smile. “So what? Do you want it back now?”

Others pretended not to hear. Only Li Zhonghong and Xie Tong subtly averted their eyes, as if scornful of such company.

“That small amount of your vitality means little to me,” the man said calmly. “But let me remind you—cause and effect. What you took is cause; what you must repay is effect. No one ever escapes this Daoist law.”

Wang Lian shrugged dismissively, “That’s a matter for after ascension. When that time comes, I’ll repay you. Such petty grudges—what use are they after years of cultivation?”

Meanwhile, Modi of the Ten Thousand Beasts Sect, as if struck by a thought, tentatively asked, “May I inquire if you are from the Ten-Thousand Transformations Sect?”

Others might not know, but the Li family and Great Sword Green Mountain did. Upon witnessing this technique, they had guessed the newcomer’s sect.

The Ten-Thousand Transformations Sect had long since vanished into the river of time, so they did not expect the opening of Tianmen to draw out its ancient ancestor.

The man sighed at Modi, “I never thought that besides the Imperial Supreme Hall, Great Sword Green Mountain, and the Li family of Tianshan, there would be others who recognize me.” Then he bowed in Daoist greeting, “I am Yu Qiu of the Ten-Thousand Transformations Sect.”

Xie Tong recalled readings about the cultivation world’s history: the Ten-Thousand Transformations Sect was ancient, destroyed during the Imperial Supreme Hall’s reforms of the cultivation world. They refused to surrender their heritage or become subordinates to the Supreme Hall.

In truth, how many sects are willing to become vassals? Those remaining had compromised, sacrificing pride to preserve lineage.

Those lost in time’s river lost their heritage and foundations—never again to be the Ten-Thousand Transformations Sect.

Their cultivation method was peculiar—achieving myriad transformations to unity, one to all things. Such a great Dao, if perfected, might rival the Li family’s strength.

Alas, this path was difficult. Cultivators reached only the threshold, far from the ultimate unity of myriad transformations.

This Yu Qiu seemed to have reached that level, perhaps slightly stronger, but not by much.

Legend holds that those who reach the pinnacle become one with all things. They can become a world, and a world can be them.

After Yu Qiu arrived, several more appeared—ancient sect elders lost to history. Among them was a lone cultivator whose presence commanded great respect, for his endurance was extraordinary.

To survive as a lone cultivator until the opening of Tianmen required opportunity—but also incredible patience. Without the ability to endure solitude, longevity would be impossible.

Modi of the Ten Thousand Beasts Sect counted: eight had arrived, including himself, nine.

Closing his eyes to sense anew, he sneered coldly at those present, “I must say, you’re truly patient. Even now, you still hide. If you don’t obtain the Underworld Beast’s blood to open the gate before dawn, who knows when the next opportunity will be.”

No sooner had he spoken than an elder from the Heavenly Secrets Sect stood and apologized with a smile, “Sorry, I intended only a joke—to see if any Daoists would notice me. That was my mistake.”

Modi mocked, “Old Star Watcher, you have remarkable patience!”

The others who had appeared earlier ignored him, closing their eyes to await more arrivals.

Next came the ancestor of the Falling Forgetfulness Peak—not from among its people but having slipped away from the city lord’s servant ranks.

“Zhengyang Zhenren, how can the ancestor of a righteous sect hide among city servants? Don’t you feel humiliated?” Wang Lian of Yin Mountain taunted.

“Let’s not laugh at each other. What’s the difference between you and me? We serve the same purpose. As for who we are, what we do, and why, we all understand well. Let’s drop the jabs,” Zhengyang Zhenren replied.

After some mutual barbs, they ceased and waited quietly for more to arrive.

Soon after came a master bladesmith, the only Blade Saint of the Divine Craft Sect.

He had been watching all along, but his cultivation had reached the pinnacle of the Fourteenth Realm, just a step from the Fifteenth.

If he wished to hide, no one but Daoist Lin could detect him.

The Divine Craft Sect’s arrival of the Blade Saint was unsurprising. Besides forging magical weapons, they were among the strongest sects. They also had a blade path, though it lacked the popularity and depth of the sword path, and so they had only one Blade Saint—a source of regret.

Interestingly, the Divine Craft Sect’s members showed little joy upon seeing him, maintaining only polite distance. Elder Luo respectfully saluted Blade Saint Yan Feng but showed little enthusiasm afterward.

Yan Feng himself paid no heed, offering no expression, and simply joined the elders, waiting for others.

(Page 3 of 3)