Volume One: Youths Meet in Humble Times Chapter Forty-Nine: The Origin of Tianmen Town

Ever since the Taoist brought Li Yu back to Tianmen Town, he rarely spoke to him about the world of cultivation, and seldom even discussed the affairs of their current home. The tasks he assigned to Li Yu were simple: recite scriptures, gather herbs in the mountains, or play with the Shen siblings and learn how to be a real child.

Sometimes, during idle moments, Li Yu would find himself curious about the people who lived in Tianmen Town, the reason behind its name, or the secret purpose of that strange stone stele at its center. Yet, for all his curiosity, he never entertained the notion of asking the Taoist. He feared being a burden, and besides, he had grown used to strict restraint over the past five years: to remain calm and composed, to never seek knowledge that was not meant for him, no matter how great his curiosity. In times of chaos, only by maintaining the utmost self-control could one protect oneself and survive.

Yet after today’s conversation, he sensed that his master intended to reveal something, and Li Yu realized he could no longer hold himself aloof from these matters. Curiosity about the unknown could be dangerous, but when avoidance was impossible, only knowledge could offer a chance at survival.

He seized upon the most critical point and asked, “Master, where exactly is the Heavenly Gate?”

The Taoist led Li Yu on their way back. From afar, Tianmen Town was already within sight. From where they stood, the town’s lights resembled fragile sparks, as if any stray gust of wind might snuff out those meager flames, plunging everything into a sea of darkness, bereft of warmth or light.

“The Heavenly Gate lies within Tianmen Town. Or rather, to open the Heavenly Gate, one must pass through Tianmen Town.” The Taoist’s answer was incomplete, but Li Yu hazarded a guess. “Does it have something to do with the stone stele in the town’s center?”

The Taoist continued, “Do you know why Tianmen Town is isolated on the sea?”

Li Yu shook his head, indicating ignorance. In truth, even if he knew, he would have said otherwise, for he knew his master enjoyed instructing others. This was a lesson he’d gleaned from their time together.

“Legend has it that there were once many paths to the heavens, but during the great immortal-demon war hundreds of thousands of years ago, the immortals and demon gods shattered all but one. Fearing future strife over this last path, the remaining immortals exiled it to this Nether Sea with their immense power, hoping to prevent needless bloodshed. Yet in time, people discovered it anew, and things developed as they are now.”

Li Yu pondered a key detail, then asked directly, “Did this sea exist before then?”

The Taoist replied, “This sea is ancient as well. According to old records, it is as old as the heavens and earth themselves. Since ancient times, a great beast has lurked within its depths, known as the Nether Beast. Thus, the sea is called the Nether Sea.”

After this explanation, the Taoist tapped Li Yu’s head and chided, “Don’t interrupt. Let me finish.” He continued,

“As ages passed, people realized the war’s consequences were dire. Few could survive the final heavenly tribulation of cultivation, and only this last path to heaven remained. Thus, to ascend, one had to find the path exiled by the immortals and sages. After relentless effort, they discovered its location and crossed the Nether Sea to reach this place. But even after finding the sea and island described in ancient texts, they could not unravel its secret. The legendary path to heaven offered no real solution—distant water cannot quench nearby thirst. Gradually, their obsession with unraveling Tianmen Town’s secret surpassed even their longing for ascension. Before dying, they commanded their disciples or descendants to remain here and maintain a presence, hoping future generations would break the mystery. Thus, Tianmen Town was established through cooperation. Over time, many families perished or faded, and only five remain.”

At this, Li Yu recalled the two people he’d met at Zhou Ce’s house. “Last time at Brother Zhou Ce’s house, I met two people, one surnamed Wang, the other Zhang. Are they from these families?”

“Yes. The five remaining great families in Tianmen Town are Wang, Zhao, Guo, Zhang, and Chen. Over centuries, each has carved out its own sphere of influence.”

Li Yu then remembered the sinister, venomous aura he’d sensed in the northern part of town. “Master, are there demon clans or demon cultivators in Tianmen Town?”

The Taoist lifted Li Yu off the boat, which vanished with a wave of his hand. Only then did he look north, toward the stone stele at the town’s heart. “You’re not wrong. Most of the time, they keep a low profile in town. They care only for the day the town’s secret is revealed. I suppose the Shen siblings haven’t taken you north?”

Li Yu nodded. “They’ve only shown me the east, south, and west. I asked about the north, but they said the people there are fierce and children rarely go.”

The Taoist led Li Yu northward. “That’s because all the demon clans and demon cultivators live in the north. The demon clans are powerful in the world of cultivation, rivaling humanity. Many see them as cruel and sinister, but to me, they are sometimes simpler and purer than humans.”

They spoke as they walked north. Li Yu noted their route, puzzled but silent.

Soon, they reached the demons’ quarter. At the entrance stood a tall tree—Li Yu recognized it as a wutong, or phoenix tree, said to be the only perch for phoenixes.

Before they entered, the tree shivered as if in a windless breeze; leaves showered down, covering their heads and shoulders in a layer of deep green.

The Taoist brushed the leaves away and laughed. “Is this how you welcome an old friend?”

A melodious woman’s voice floated out from the village. “My home doesn’t welcome those who break their word.”

Li Yu stood awkwardly, unsure whether to advance or retreat. He could sense that his master and the woman had a complicated history, and he, a mere disciple, could only strive to minimize his presence.

Soon, a graceful woman emerged from the moonlit haze. As she approached, Li Yu noticed her red gown shimmered with flowing light, radiant even at night.

Seeing her so finely dressed, the Taoist grew flustered. “Liuguang, you didn’t need to come out so formally.”

The woman, Liuguang, sneered. “I’ll wear what I please. If you dislike it, don’t come to see me.”

Li Yu was even more at a loss for how to face them, but such is the way of the world—the more one wishes to avoid something, the less one can.

Liuguang glanced at Li Yu, her brows arching, a half-smile curling her lips. Even so, her allure was undeniable. “So this is your little disciple? Or perhaps your long-lost son?”

The Taoist hastened to deny it. “Liuguang, you can eat whatever you like, but don’t speak nonsense! How could someone as dashing as I have such a prematurely solemn son? He’s nothing like me!”

Seeing his master’s anxious denial, Liuguang’s expression softened. She then had Li Yu bow in greeting. By now, he understood what was happening, but as someone of no consequence, he could only bow dutifully. “Li Yu greets the fairy sister.”

At this, their expressions changed—Liuguang was delighted, patting Li Yu’s head. “Indeed not your child. You have no eye for beauty—how could you have such an appreciative child?” From her sleeve, she drew a feather and handed it to him. “Here, a little keepsake for you.”

The Taoist, still reeling from Li Yu’s words, was visibly moved and relieved when Liuguang offered the feather. This visit, after all, was not only for business but to secure her protection for Li Yu.

The three of them sat beneath the wutong tree at a stone table. After Li Yu tidied the chairs and table, the Taoist cast a spell to render him unconscious.

Liuguang asked, “If you don’t want him to hear, why bring him?”

The Taoist sighed. “That’s not it. If I hope you’ll look after him in the future, you should meet him. If you disliked him, I wouldn’t entrust him to you. But since you seem fond of him, I am at ease.”

Liuguang, now worried, looked at him and said, “I haven’t come looking for you since you returned, and you haven’t come to me. Though you never said anything, I sense your return isn’t easy.”

The Taoist fell silent. Liuguang grew agitated. “You always keep everything to yourself. Can’t you share your burdens with me?”

As soon as she finished, the Taoist’s aura surged, rising higher and higher until it finally subsided. Liuguang stared at him, stunned, her emotions flickering from shock to anger to helplessness, finally dissolving into a mournful sigh. “Why must it come to this?”

The Taoist smiled. “I have no way out. I can only stake everything on this chance.”

Hearing this, all her anger vanished. She held back tears, gazing at him with sorrow and frustration.

They spoke of other things, then the Taoist carried Li Yu away. Liuguang watched him walk through the moonlight, Li Yu slung over his back, his stride steady though his back was slightly bent, still brimming with indomitable strength. Watching him, she felt a sudden, inexplicable loneliness.

A gust of wind swept through, and the wutong’s leaves fell again, covering the stone table and erasing all trace of their presence, as if the three of them had never been there at all.