Volume One: Youths Meet in Humble Times Chapter Forty-Eight: Struggle and Pursuit, Schemes and Human Hearts

The two sat at the bow of the boat, watching as the distant sun slowly sank into the sea, until the last trace of light at the horizon was devoured by the deepening night. Li Yu was worried, but also secretly frustrated that his master had not confided in him. The Daoist, meanwhile, was quietly regulating his breath; though he had just vanquished Zhang Xi’s avatar with great force and authority, his methods had been direct and fierce, leaving his own energy somewhat unsettled.

As Li Yu remained at the Daoist’s side, he grew increasingly restless. For the first time, his legs dangled over the edge of the boat, swinging ceaselessly. The creatures lurking nearby had witnessed the previous events; those who could leave had already fled, leaving only those whose nests were rooted here, forced to linger without daring to stir.

When the moon rose high in the sky, the Daoist spoke languidly, “If you keep swinging like that, you’ll tip the boat over.”

Those words lit up Li Yu’s eyes. He hurriedly asked, “Master, are you all right?”

The Daoist stood, picked up the fish basket, and gestured for Li Yu to follow him inside, saying, “It’s nothing, just a minor matter. It’s not enough to injure me. Don’t worry.”

Hearing this, Li Yu’s heart eased a little. The Daoist then asked, “Have you looked at these two fish?”

Li Yu glanced at the basket and saw two small fish swimming inside, one jet black and one pure white. With a thoughtful and sudden realization, he said, “Are they not actually fish?”

As Li Yu studied the fish, one of them looked back at him, its gaze lingering for a brief moment before vanishing.

The Daoist tapped his head, chuckling, “What else could they be if not fish? What strange notions are you entertaining?”

It was understandable why Li Yu might think such things. With the Daoist’s abilities, nothing he did would truly surprise Li Yu.

Li Yu muttered under his breath, “Perhaps they’re some kind of demon!”

The Daoist laughed, “These are the yin-yang fish, born of heaven and earth, rarer than even the yin-yang polar pearls.”

Forgive Li Yu, for he knew little of the cultivation world. He asked, “What are yin-yang fish?”

The Daoist explained, “Yin-yang fish are the purest manifestations of yin and yang energies in the world. They are formed entirely from these primal forces. In fact, they share roots with the Netherbeast you saw earlier—both are among the most unique and highest forms of life in existence.”

Li Yu turned back to the basket. He saw the fish watching him smugly, and his brow twitched as he blurted out, “Are they really the highest forms of life in the world? Why do they look so silly?”

The two fish rolled their eyes, as if to say, “You’re the silly one, your whole family is silly.”

Li Yu noticed their expressions and grew more skeptical, wondering if his master was joking.

The Daoist admitted, “They may seem a little foolish, but they are genuine innate spiritual beings.” He winked at Li Yu, “And they are also the key to whether you can cultivate.”

Upon hearing this, Li Yu was finally incredulous, asking, “Really, Master? Can I truly cultivate now?”

The Daoist replied, “Of course. But taming them won’t be easy. Only if they accept you wholeheartedly will they help resolve your issue.”

Li Yu thought, as long as he could cultivate, no matter how difficult it was, he would do his utmost. “Master, rest assured. I’ll tame them as soon as I can, then work hard at my cultivation. I’ll strive to earn the right to stand beside you in the shortest possible time. So please wait for me—don’t do anything dangerous yourself.”

The Daoist smiled, “You’re still worrying about what just happened? Let me tell you, children who worry too much age faster.”

Li Yu paid little mind to this. His anxiety was known only to himself; he had seen his grandmother leave him, and now, after finally finding a safe haven and a master who cared for him, he could not bear to let it slip away, nor could he accept watching his master take risks while he stood powerless.

The Daoist had considered the impact his words might have on Li Yu. After much deliberation, he decided it was best for Li Yu to know a little, so that when the full truth was revealed, he would have the strength to bear it. Not telling everything now was to avoid burdening Li Yu with too much pressure.

He knew his disciple was too loyal and deeply affectionate; when that day came, who knew what Li Yu might do?

This precaution was the Daoist’s helpless safeguard.

“Things aren’t peaceful in Tianmen Town now. When you go out, be extra careful,” the Daoist said as they made their way back, brewing tea as he spoke.

Li Yu rarely saw the Daoist make tea. Since following him, he had only seen the Daoist drink wine. The tea made from bodhi leaves in Li Yu’s room was given by the Daoist, and Li Yu had always felt the Daoist usually didn’t drink tea. Watching him prepare tea now was novel, and Li Yu paid close attention to every step.

Hearing the Daoist’s warning, Li Yu suddenly remembered something and asked, “Master, the one you killed earlier—was he from Tianmen Town?”

The Daoist nodded, his hands never pausing.

Li Yu continued, “Why did you kill him?”

The Daoist finished brewing the tea, pushed a cup to Li Yu, who sipped it and found its lingering flavor even more calming than the bodhi leaf tea he’d had before. The Daoist already knew Li Yu appreciated tea, though he’d never shown it—after three years with the Li family on Tianshan, such habits were ingrained.

Watching Li Yu drink, the Daoist said slowly, “He deserved to die. From the moment he attacked you all, his fate was sealed.”

Li Yu thought for a moment, then asked, “Was it because of me?”

Meanwhile, after Zhang Xi’s avatar was destroyed, the true Zhang Xi in the cave spat blood, his face pale as snow. “My avatar has been destroyed,” he said. The other four elders were puzzled but not surprised—until Zhang Xi added, “It was utterly destroyed, soul and spirit annihilated.” The five were astonished, and asked, “Do you know what happened there?”

Zhang Xi struggled to compose himself. “There’s no way to know. My avatar transmitted no information back.”

The five were shaken, thinking, “Is the Daoist’s power truly so formidable that he can utterly destroy an avatar?”

Zhang Xi’s cultivation was unique: his avatars possessed independent souls that could escape when killed. Yet, what had worked several times before failed against the Daoist.

They wondered, “What path does the Daoist cultivate?”

Then another question arose, “Fourth Brother, why did he destroy your avatar?”

Zhang Xi, embarrassed, replied, “Probably because I tested his disciple.”

He recounted the events, and Wang Zhong, the eldest, said, “You overreacted. To provoke that man over the suspicions of a clan member?”

Zhang Xi now regretted listening to Zhang Boqian’s instigations, investigating Li Yu’s hidden identity.

Guo Nan, the third and wisest, mused, “Perhaps it wasn’t just about avenging his disciple. He was sending a warning.”

The Daoist explained to Li Yu, “Besides avenging you, I wanted to warn them. My strength is great; if they don’t act soon, their chances will vanish.”

Li Yu watched the Daoist sipping tea, knowing he needed it to steady his energy and calm his mind.

Sure enough, the Daoist continued, “Tianmen Town is not an ordinary place. As its name suggests, legend says it hides a gate to the heavens—the only path for those seeking ascension to evade heavenly punishment.”

Li Yu had guessed as much after entering Tianmen Town, so he wasn’t surprised. He asked, “Master, so you live here to find the location of the gate? So you can ascend?”

The Daoist shook his head. “No, I am here to suppress the gate, to prevent anyone from ascending through it.”

His words shocked Li Yu. He recalled the Daoist’s warning about the calamity ascension could bring upon the world, and wondered: if the gate was so dangerous, why not tell everyone so they would refrain from ascending?

As soon as he asked, the Daoist mocked, “Never mind whether they’d believe it; asking them to give up the chance to ascend—they never would. For tens of thousands of years, no one has ascended. Those who tried either died from heavenly tribulation or from the five deaths of celestial beings. The only hope for immortality lies in the gate. Do you think those who spent their lives cultivating would willingly abandon their one chance?”

Cultivators appear lofty and untouched by the world before mortals, but most forget their humanity, their original nature, lost in the pursuit of immortality and transcendence. If ascending brings disaster to all life, they will invoke the ruthless nature of the heavens, claiming all beings are but fodder, to justify their own privilege, forgetting they were once the ants they now disdain.

Li Yu, of uncommon birth and experience, understood the disregard for mortal life among cultivators, but he did not accept it.

“So, Master, are you going to oppose them?” Li Yu asked.

The Daoist replied, “More or less. I am here to guard the gate, to keep its location secret, to prevent anyone from ascending through it.”

Li Yu exclaimed, “Doesn’t that mean you’ll be the enemy of all cultivators?”

The Daoist drained his last cup, gazed at the lingering fragrance, and smiled, “Don’t you think it’s a grand, heroic thing?”

In the cave, the other four pondered Guo Nan’s words. If he was right, what was the Daoist’s ultimate intent?

The fifth asked, “Do any of you know why he came to Tianmen Town?”

None did. The third mused, “If we can’t deduce the outcome from the start, let’s reverse it. Judging by what just happened, he’s likely ready to ascend, so his purpose is probably connected to the gate. There are two possibilities: one, he wants to open the gate, which would benefit us. If so, we could help him; his warning was to show us his power, to let us choose whether to aid him. Two, he wants to guard the gate, letting no one but himself pass, thereby dominating this world. If need be, he may kill any who try to ascend.”

These words made the four tremble. If the Daoist’s goal was the second, could they stop him?

Wang Zhong, the eldest, decided, “Inform the other sects outside Tianmen Town. This isn’t something we can decide alone. Outlanders have always coveted Tianmen Town, but this new variable—the Daoist—means we should spread what we know. If he truly wants to rule everything, we might as well muddy the waters.”

The fifth, Chen Bei, interjected, “But if it’s the first possibility, wouldn’t that mean more people coming to claim a share?”

Wang Zhong laughed, “You must look further ahead. If it’s the first, opening the gate isn’t easy. More helpers mean greater chances, and don’t forget, this is our turf. We have the home advantage; if the gate opens, we’ll dictate terms. Those from outside, if they make it through, it’s their fortune; if not, it’s their fate.”

The world bustles for profit; the world clamors for gain. Truly, there is nothing new under the sun—no matter when or where, it is always thus.