Chen Changqing raised an eyebrow. From what he knew of his master, it was exceedingly rare for Daoist Chen Yuan to look as though he had something to say but held back. The last time he had seen that expression was when his master took him in as his Gatekeeping Disciple.
At the end of the passage stood an even more ancient stone door.
There were no decorations on it, only the character for "enlightenment" carved into its center.
Daoist Chen Yuan stopped before the door, straightened his robes, and only then raised a hand to knock.
"Master, your disciple Chen Yuan has brought Changqing."
Silence lingered beyond the door for two breaths.
"Come in."
An aged voice came from behind the door, full and resonant, carrying a deep authority that commanded respect without anger.
The stone door opened without a breath of wind.
Chen Changqing crossed the threshold, and the space before him suddenly opened up.
This was a blessed cave-heaven carved into the heart of the mountain. Within a space several hundred zhang across, spiritual energy was so dense it seemed almost tangible. Even breathing drew wisps of spiritual power into his body.
An ancient stone table stood at the center of the cavern, with a pot of tea and two cups upon it.
On a meditation cushion behind the stone table sat an old man with snow-white hair and beard, his legs crossed.
Daoist Wuzhen.
The old man wore a gray Daoist robe washed pale with age. His face was lean, his eyes half closed, and his breathing long and steady. He looked like the most ordinary old mountain Daoist imaginable, no different from a fortune-teller in some little country temple.
Yet the instant Chen Changqing sensed the old man's aura, all nine of his scarlet-gold primordial