Chapter Ten: The Pavilion of Star Chess

Liang Yan rose to his feet and bowed to the old monk.
“Thank you, Master, for protecting me.”
The old monk nodded slightly, then spoke with gravity, “From this day forth, you and I must no longer address each other as master and disciple. I have already recommended you to the Pavilion of the Starry Game. Though it is a great Confucian sect, their library contains Buddhist cultivation methods as well, sufficient for you to reach the Foundation Establishment stage. As for the path beyond, that will depend on your own efforts.”
Liang Yan nodded silently. The old monk continued, “Come with me. I’ll take you to meet the one from the Pavilion who will receive you.”
The two of them left the Drifting Cloud Inn and made their way up the mountain. The path was rugged, but their steps were swift, and before long, they reached the summit.
Looking up, Liang Yan saw a large vermillion manor perched atop the mountain. In front of its gates stood a man and a woman—the woman wore blue robes and carried herself with poise, while the man, dressed in scholarly blue and holding a folding fan, was none other than Lin Fei, the scholar who had presided over the auction that night.
The pair seemed to have been waiting for some time. Seeing the old monk approach, they stepped forward and cupped their fists in salute. “Greetings, Senior!” They glanced up and down at Liang Yan. “Is this the one you entrusted to us?”
“Indeed. This boy is fated to meet me, and possesses a spiritual root, but I am unable to guide his cultivation further.”
“Rest assured, Senior. Had you not healed my injuries last time, I might have suffered lasting harm. I, Lin, give you my word: I will personally introduce this child to the sect.”
The old monk nodded and walked toward a corner of the courtyard. Liang Yan knew there were final instructions, so he swiftly followed.
Beneath a willow at the mountain’s edge, the old monk said, “Your spiritual roots are mixed and your aptitude poor. After I leave, you must apply yourself even more diligently. Where others need only a day’s effort, you must work for ten, or the path of cultivation will be closed to you.”
Liang Yan nodded in silence.
The old monk went on, “I have taught you the Eight Aspects. For now, you may only cultivate the first four; the latter four must wait until your cultivation reaches the Gathering Essence stage. These Eight Aspects reflect all the myriad forms of sentient beings, as well as the sacred manifestations of the Buddha. Practice them diligently. If one day you achieve ‘form born from the heart’—manifesting their power without assuming their posture—only then will you have truly entered the path.”
Seeing how meticulous were the monk’s instructions, Liang Yan understood their parting was at hand, and his eyes grew moist.
Noticing Liang Yan’s reluctance, the old monk deliberately laughed heartily. “No need for sorrow, boy. All feasts under heaven must end. I have guided you to the threshold and planted the bodhi seed today; may you one day blossom into a nine-petaled lotus!”
With that, he laughed aloud, and the prayer beads in his hand flew into the air, carrying the old monk away in a golden beam of light, vanishing into the far sky.
Liang Yan watched the golden light recede, lost in thought, until a cough sounded behind him. Turning, he saw Lin Fei approaching.
“You are Liang Yan, correct? Rest here tonight. Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to the sect.”
“I leave myself in your hands, Senior.”
“Good. Our Pavilion of the Starry Game is a great Confucian sect. Once admitted, you must cultivate diligently, never neglecting your studies. Moreover, the sect’s rules are strict—you must abide by them.”
Liang Yan replied respectfully, “I will remember your instructions.”
Seeing Liang Yan’s sensible demeanor, Lin Fei nodded with satisfaction. “Choose a room inside and rest. At dawn, we depart.”
...
Liang Yan chose a room in a quiet corner and sat cross-legged that night, recalling the strange changes in the Destiny Pearl the previous evening.
“It seems the odd impulse that drove me to buy the wooden fish at the auction came from the Destiny Pearl,” he mused. “When the Destiny Pearl absorbed a wisp of demonic energy from that fiend, four black spheres appeared nearby. On one, I vaguely saw the character for ‘demon’ light up, but it soon faded.”

It must be that the Destiny Pearl found that demon unsatisfactory, so it absorbed only a trace of demonic energy, yet still granted me such pure spiritual power, helping me break through to the second layer of Qi Refining. If I could find an even more suitable demon to subdue, wouldn’t that mean…
At this thought, Liang Yan shook his head. With only second-layer Qi Refining, to think of subduing demons was sheer fantasy. He’d be lucky not to become their prey.
He steadied his mind, then took out the storage pouches from Chen Chong, Xu Kun, and the others, tallying his spoils.
Xu Kun, a body cultivator, had little in the way of spirit stones, only some herbs for tempering the body, and all were of low quality. Chen Chong and Tang Yan, on the other hand, were rather well-off—together they’d had nearly one hundred and fifty spirit stones. Chen Hu alone had over a hundred. With those and what the old monk had left him, Liang Yan now possessed more than three hundred spirit stones.
After sorting the materials and items, Liang Yan resumed his meditation, consolidating his recent breakthrough.
The night passed. Just as dawn broke, a transmission sounded in his mind:
“Gather at the front gate immediately!”
Liang Yan leapt up, gathered his things, attached the storage pouch to his waist, and made his way to the manor’s entrance.
There, three people were already waiting: the blue-robed woman, Lin Fei, and a portly, middle-aged man dressed as a prosperous merchant.
When Liang Yan arrived, Lin Fei nodded slightly and turned to address the merchant. “The Cuishan Auction has concluded successfully. The two of us must return to the sect to report. I’ll leave things here in your capable hands, Fellow Daoist Wang.”
The merchant laughed heartily. “That’s my duty, of course! No need for ceremony, Brother Lin. Hurry and return to your sect.”
With a smile, Lin Fei reached into his storage pouch and produced a tortoise. As soon as it hit the air, it expanded to three zhang across, the size of a small boat. Studying it, Liang Yan saw its surface was all wooden grain, with joints clicking audibly—it was a mechanical beast.
Lin Fei leapt atop the wooden tortoise. The blue-robed woman smiled, formed a hand seal, and a breeze lifted Liang Yan onto the tortoise with her, before she herself joined them.
The great tortoise rose into the sky, carrying the three westward at great speed.
...
Yunping Mountain lay in the southwest of Yue Kingdom, towering and wreathed in clouds. Its cliffs and gorges vied in splendor, lush greenery abounded, and clouds and mist drifted in vibrant hues—a rare beauty in the world.
Yet few visitors came; the villagers said that from mid-mountain upward, the fog was so thick that people quickly lost their way, and even seasoned hunters dared not venture above the halfway point.
Fortunately, those who climbed the mountain, though disoriented, always found themselves inexplicably descending again, coming to no harm. Thus, it was rumored that immortals dwelled atop Yunping Mountain, and mortals could not approach.
At this moment, a wooden boat floated along a broad mountain river, bearing three figures: a scholarly man, a graceful blue-clad woman, and a black-robed youth—Liang Yan and his companions.
The boat, in fact, was the mechanical tortoise transformed. Lin Fei stood at its center, guiding it with spells. Suddenly, he turned to Liang Yan.
“Are you curious why I’ve stopped flying and taken to the river here?”
Liang Yan scratched his head, smiling. “I confess, I don’t know.”
Lin Fei’s expression became solemn. “Our Pavilion of the Starry Game is a true Confucian sect, its rites and laws are strict. We are now near the sect; no disciple below Foundation Establishment may fly in the vicinity, as a mark of respect.”
“Furthermore, the sect has two main halls: the Hall of Rites and the Hall of Law. When you enter, you must report to both, where you’ll be taught the rules. Obey them strictly, or face severe punishment!”
Outwardly, Liang Yan nodded respectfully. “I understand, Master.” Inwardly, he chafed.
By nature, he was easygoing and free-spirited; the Confucian obsession with ceremony was not to his liking. He understood Lin Fei’s words were a warning, and that he had no choice but to comply—without this opportunity, he might never touch the path of immortality.

Lin Fei, satisfied with Liang Yan’s attitude, said no more, focusing on steering the boat.
As they journeyed on, the forest thickened, the river widened and grew swifter, surging with power. The boat began to pitch and toss like a leaf in the wind, ever on the verge of capsizing.
Liang Yan grew anxious—Lin Fei had said the sect was near, yet here was nothing but deep forest. He was still puzzling over this when, ahead, the river thundered over a natural waterfall.
Mist billowed where the water crashed down, the sound deafening—a mighty hanging river, surely. Liang Yan’s heart pounded. Surely they weren’t about to plunge over directly?
In an instant, the boat reached the brink. Lin Fei raised a hand and flicked a talisman into the mist, which vanished instantly. The boat, with all aboard, plunged into the falls.
Liang Yan’s heart leapt into his throat. A blinding white light flared, stealing his sight, as if he were plummeting through the air with nothing beneath his feet.
The white light vanished as quickly as it came. Liang Yan, still shaken, suddenly felt solid ground beneath him. As the light faded, he could open his eyes again.
The thunder of the waterfall was gone. They now floated on a gentle, winding river. The boat drifted forward into a vast lake, fed by many such rivers converging from all directions, like a hundred streams flowing to the sea.
Looking back, the river meandered out of sight; the grand waterfall was gone, replaced by distant white mists at the river’s end.
Liang Yan took a deep breath, sensing he had reached a sacred land. Even with his cleverness and composure, excitement welled within him.
The boat glided into the lake, and before long, a grand valley entrance came into view.
On either side of the entrance, colossal stone pillars reached toward the sky, each inscribed with flowing calligraphy. From a distance, Liang Yan read the lines:
“Let Heaven be the chessboard and stars the pieces—who dares make a move?”
“Let Earth be the lute and rain the strings—who dares to play?”
In the lake’s center, a great boulder jutted above the water, facing the valley. Upon it were the three characters: “Pavilion of the Starry Game.”
As Liang Yan tried to examine the calligraphy more closely, the characters seemed to leap from the rock, their strokes like blades, their brilliance stabbing at his eyes. He hurriedly shut them, not daring to look again.
Lin Fei, noticing, smiled. “The verses on those pillars were left by our founding ancestor, the Sage of the Starry Game. His mastery of chess and arrays was unmatched; he founded our Pavilion, which has endured for thousands of years. The power of his brushwork is not something a mere novice in Qi Refining can withstand.” He spoke with pride and reverence for his sect.
“Thank you for your guidance, Master,” Liang Yan replied.
As they conversed, the boat reached the valley entrance. Lin Fei raised his voice, “Lin Fei, disciple, returning from my mission. I request the elder on duty to open the way!”
Liang Yan looked up and glimpsed two figures atop the stone pillars—no more than vague outlines, likely young scholars deep in a game of chess.
One called down, “We hear you, Lin! You always choose the worst times—my train of thought is broken. Go on in!” With a wave, he sent a yellow light flashing to the valley’s center, where a shimmering ripple spread, as if a barrier had been parted.
Lin Fei bowed respectfully, “Thank you, Elder!” Then he led the group ashore, stowed the boat, and together they entered the valley…