Chapter 133: An Enlightening Revelation (Bonus Chapter)

Since the day the three met in secret on Wufu Mountain, Cheng Xin Zhan indeed never meddled in the matter again.

In truth, he couldn't have interfered even if he wished.

He felt deeply moved: in the west, Emei was becoming arrogant; in the east, the Dragon and Tiger sects were scheming in shadows; in the north, the Blood Demons were rising unexpectedly. What had become of this world?

Was chaos about to erupt across the land?

Careful reflection on these three matters revealed that the Dragon and Tiger sects were maneuvering behind the scenes, the Blood Demons were lying low, and in the near term, Emei presented the greatest threat—though compared to a few years ago, their influence seemed somewhat diminished.

But none of these were things this humble foot soldier could sway. For now, the priority remained to elevate his own realm. After all, only by forging a Golden Core could one’s voice truly be heard and actions truly noticed.

The sect leader’s decree of secret investigation was indeed secretive. Cheng Xin Zhan himself noticed no significant stirrings in the mountains, but perhaps the higher realms perceived otherwise. Fang Weimin, an acquaintance of his, had entered seclusion shortly after returning to the mountain.

The sect leader’s injunction was for him to remain within the mountain, and Cheng Xin Zhan agreed. Having just broken through a realm, he chose not to rush to Dragon and Tiger Mountain, as many insights still awaited his contemplation.

Following the secret meeting, he made a special visit to Danxia Mountain to pay respects to Master Ren, requesting some time to consolidate his new realm and meditate on the Five Elements.

Ren Wusheng was delighted to comply, saying that refining elixirs was a matter not to be rushed; someone like Cheng Xin Zhan, with his temperament, was well suited for this.

He then visited Shujiji Mountain, Toujian Mountain, and White Tiger Mountain, each time presenting the same explanation: he had absorbed too much knowledge in recent years and now needed quietude to sort through it all.

Each mountain master consented.

In truth, since the beginning of his cultivation, he had never truly paused for quiet reflection. Even with Zhu Shen’s presence, he was always busy scurrying between mountains to learn techniques or secluded in caves to absorb energy.

During his two years traveling the north, he felt rushed; his mind was filled with melancholy, his eyes mainly visualizing landscapes, yet he never truly settled.

When he decided to seal his cave and enter seclusion, a sudden impulse struck him—to seek out Feng Jihu for a chat.

This man who had led him into the immortal path held a special place in his heart. Though Cheng Xin Zhan had now caught up with him in cultivation, in other respects, he always regarded Feng Jihu as his elder brother, someone who had much to teach him.

Shortly after returning from Western Kunlun, Feng Jihu also entered the second realm, but he was neither skilled in alchemy, swordsmanship, nor lightning arts, and so naturally did not partake in the Dragon and Tiger Mountain’s ritual assembly.

His passion lay in nurturing herbs and concocting medicines.

He found Feng Jihu at a small lakeside courtyard in Dujuan Valley.

It was late spring, the grass lush and green, a season when myriad flowers vied for brilliance.

He knocked on the door.

Feng Jihu opened it, delighted to see Cheng Xin Zhan, and invited him inside to sit.

The courtyard burst with blooms competing for splendor, drawing bees and butterflies, while swallows busily gathered mud for their nests. Feng Jihu’s sleeves were rolled up, a willow branch in hand, as he busied himself weaving greenery.

Setting down the willow twig, the two sat at a stone table in the courtyard, where Feng Jihu brewed tea for his guest.

“To cultivate the spirit is to nurture the body,” Feng Jihu said.

He emanated a calm and composed aura, unruffled by circumstance—qualities Cheng Xin Zhan found himself lacking.

Gazing upon the exquisite little courtyard, Cheng Xin Zhan felt a pang of envy.

He sipped the tea and explained that he was preparing for seclusion to meditate and organize the gains of his first realm.

Feng Jihu sighed deeply and set down his cup.

“Brother Dao, why the sigh? Is there something you wish to discuss?”

Cheng Xin Zhan asked again.

Feng Jihu regarded him with a touch of pity and said,

“You have been too busy, never giving yourself a proper breath.”

Cheng Xin Zhan was momentarily stunned.

“Xin Zhan, I know the burdens you bear are heavier than ours. Every mountain master, every deputy sect leader, every sect leader knows you and is investing all efforts to cultivate you. ‘Auditing multiple peaks is to be considered true transmission’—this is the privilege of a sect leader candidate.”

Feng Jihu paused, then continued,

“But I believe one cannot make cultivation their entire existence. Though you are indeed gifted in cultivation, you move and meditate only for cultivation—that is not good.

“Remember when you first entered the mountain, I told you not to waste time, but that doesn’t mean that anything outside cultivation is a waste! You forget, when I said that, we were still drinking together!

“To put it another way, when you ascend or your lifespan nears its end, if you look back and find that something was not a wasteful or absurd folly, then that thing holds meaning. I believe such meaningful things are not limited to cultivation alone.”

Feng Jihu spoke sincerely.

Cheng Xin Zhan blinked, staring blankly at this elder brother with rolled-up sleeves speckled with mud.

It was the first time anyone had advised him not to be so single-minded in cultivation.

He pondered Feng Jihu’s words carefully. Indeed, since entering the mountains, he had been nothing but cultivation, rarely engaging in anything else. The few times he acted on personal whim were drinking with fellow disciples or resting briefly in Miao villages—these were few and far between.

He recalled that upon first entering the mountain, he often played the zither to express his feelings of longing for his parents and even forged a bond with Green Chi through it, but gradually, he played less and less.

This was wrong.

If he continued like this, wouldn’t he become a mere puppet of cultivation?

Did he still remember what his parents looked like?

Suddenly enlightened, he realized he had locked away even his own spirit.

He sprang up and gave Feng Jihu a deep bow. At that moment, he canceled his plan for seclusion and meditation.

This startled Feng Jihu, who quickly helped him back to his seat.

Cheng Xin Zhan settled down again, his face relaxing as he slowly sipped the tea.

He suddenly realized that by deciding to set cultivation aside for a while, many matters he had neglected came rushing to mind.

Green Chi was injured and couldn’t speak. He had thought to cultivate deeply and then, once powerful, avenge her. But why had he never thought to first restore her voice?

How long had it been since he taught Green Chi a new melody?

His third sister, after years eating sea fish, seemed somewhat improved, but not fully healed. Why had he not sought other treatments?

Had he even cared about the cultivation of his third sister and Elder Brother yet? With only a Qi-feeding chart between them, the two children must have grown weary of it.

When he opened the Wuyou Cave, he dreamed of planting grass, fruit, and trees around it, decorating it with vibrant spring colors like Feng Jihu’s garden. Had he achieved that?

When he left the town to pursue immortality, he carved door plaques to give to neighbors—why, after entering the mountain, had he never carved safety talismans for his teachers and friends?

Had his craftsmanship grown rusty?

He pondered slowly, savoring the tea.

At that moment, the boy of fifteen or sixteen from Xiangxiang Town seemed to return.

“Brother Dao, I wish to learn how to make medicine from you. Would you teach me?”

(End of chapter)