Wu Zhou.
Northern Langyu County, Dongyang County, Ning Province.
The verdant mountains were hazy, veiled in mist and smoke. From afar, between the undulating ridges, cloud dragons and water fish seemed to weave through the landscape, like a few strokes of pale ink spreading across paper, with the artistic conception springing vividly to life.
Though it was no immortal mountain or divine vein, it produced Spirit Bamboo in abundance. Moreover, because the mountain had nine peaks, it was named Nine Bamboo Mountain and was somewhat famous within Ning Province.
Following the moss-covered stone steps through the mountain forest, one could find an unremarkable Taoist temple nestled on an unremarkable peak.
Weathered by wind and rain, cracks crawled across the temple's outer walls. The plaque had vanished without a trace, and weeds covered the front courtyard. In the center, a luxuriant mass of greenery bulged up like a potted plant...
A closer look revealed that this was not a potted landscape at all, but a cauldron-shaped incense burner that had been overtaken by greenery after years without care.
Taking back what had been said earlier, this Taoist temple was not entirely unremarkable. At the very least, the mottled traces left behind by the passing years could be seen everywhere.
"Disciple, your master's end is near. I won't be long for this world. I'll give you a few last words, so listen carefully..."
Beneath an old tree in the Backyard, an old man and a young man sat on the ground. The old Daoist had white hair but a youthful face, and he looked bright and vigorous as he stroked his goatee. "There's no need to grieve. Birth, aging, illness, and death are the natural order of things. Don't put on that weepy, sobbing act."
Across from him, the young man raised a hand and rubbed the corners of his slightly dry eyes before nodding heavily. "Okay."
"Rest assured. Though your master has little time left, I've already sent word to your Senior Sister Bai Jin. She'll guide you carefully in your cultivation. Thirty years ago, she was already the leading disciple of the Lingxiao Sword Sect. I imagine now..."
"Speaking of the Lingxiao Sword Sect, I do miss it. What a pity. If I hadn't accidentally gravely injured Senior Brother Sect Master back then, I would definitely have gone back for one last look before I died."
"Forget it. Things have changed with time. Why am I bringing up all this irrelevant nonsense..."
"..."
An hour later, the young man blinked in confusion as he looked at the still-chattering man on the verge of death, secretly moving his stiff legs a little.
What the hell? He said he'd give me a few simple last words. How has he grown more energetic the longer he talks?
Could he really have seen a ghost?
"By the way, disciple."
Perhaps realizing he had been rambling too much, the old Daoist clenched his fist and coughed lightly, his expression turning solemn. "I know becoming my disciple wasn't your wish, and you still hold a grudge over it. But I truly didn't deceive you. With your aptitude, it would be a pity not to cultivate immortality."
The young man's lips twitched. Forgive him for being straightforward and clever since childhood, but it was obvious that the old Daoist had one foot in the coffin and knew he had little time left, so he had randomly selected a lucky audience member.
And he had simply happened to be nearby.
"By the way, disciple, your master..."
The old Daoist coughed several times in a row and covered half his old face with his sleeve. "Time was short. Your master was in a hurry to get on the road earlier and forgot to ask your name... Um, what are you called?"
Lu Bei: "..."
It wasn't short. Just reminiscing through your life's highlights took you two whole hours.
"Virtuous disciple?!"
"Lu Bei."
"Good name. I am Mo Buxiu, the master of the Feather Transformation Sect on Sanqing Peak of Nine Bamboo Mountain. After I die, you'll inherit the position of sect master."
The old Daoist glossed over the awkwardness and pointed around him, attempting to restore the solemn atmosphere from earlier. "I'm sure you've already realized it, disciple. This is an Ethereal Haven—the Feather Transformation Sect on Sanqing Peak. From today onward, you'll be in charge."
Lu Bei: "..."
So the 'outstanding people' are him, and the 'spiritual land' refers to the lush vegetation?
If that's the case, it would be hard to refute.
Clearly, Mo Buxiu's struggle was futile. By the time master and disciple had exchanged names, there was no solemn atmosphere left, and the Feather Transformation Sect in this so-called Ethereal Haven made things even more awkward.
The master and disciple stared at each other for quite a while before Mo Buxiu finally began explaining. He was fond of activity and had spent many years traveling outside to cultivate, so it was perfectly reasonable—and entirely logical—for his House to have become overgrown.
"All right, disciple. Enough nonsense. Your master truly doesn't have much time left."
Seeing signs that Lu Bei was about to flee, Mo Buxiu pulled a Qiankun Bag from his robes, grabbed Lu Bei's hand, and stuffed it into his palm, speaking at lightning speed. "The Sect Master's Seal and the land deed are in here. There's also a copy of the Fetal Breath Qi Replenishing Art. Your master obtained it in the Extreme West of Kunlun. Though this book takes an unconventional path, its underlying principle is extremely profound. It's a rare and wondrous book in all the world. Your master's cultivation realm is too high, so I can no longer practice it. You've only just entered the sect, so this is exactly..."
Halfway through his sentence, the light in Mo Buxiu's eyes scattered. The hand gripping Lu Bei's fell limp, and he fell silent without a sound.
He had left far too suddenly. Lu Bei couldn't believe that Mo Buxiu, who had still been full of energy and babbling for two hours, had simply died. He raised two fingers and placed them beneath Mo Buxiu's nostrils.
The moment he tested them—
Smack!
Mo Buxiu slapped Lu Bei's hand away and drew in a deep breath. "Continue. Where was I? Oh, right. Though your master has little time left, I've already sent word to your Senior Sister Bai Jin. As for cultivation... Huh? Why is the Qiankun Bag in your hand?"
Lu Bei: "..."
"Oh, I remember now. We've already covered this!"
Mo Buxiu suddenly understood and smacked his forehead hard. "Look at your master's memory. I haven't even died yet, and it's already stopped working."
Hit it a little harder, and it might really stop working!
Lu Bei rolled his eyes. If he hadn't tried resisting on the way here and discovered that he couldn't win, he would have given Mo Buxiu a solid punch right in the face, no matter what.
But forget it. The dead were supreme. Mo Buxiu was practically dead already, and arguing with a corpse while still alive was simply asking for trouble.
"Disciple, though I can't teach you how to cultivate, cultivating immortality isn't only about cultivation. There's something I want you to remember."
Mo Buxiu took a wooden box from the Qiankun Bag and placed it in Lu Bei's hands. "You must not harbor the heart to harm others, but you must not lack the heart to guard against others. Keep this copy of the Fetal Breath Qi Replenishing Art safe. Don't tell anyone about it. Not even your senior sister."
What does he mean? Is Senior Sister not a good person?
Lu Bei knitted his brows and nodded without saying anything else. In front of Mo Buxiu, he stuffed the book from inside the wooden box into his robes.
"With this, your master has no regrets left, except..."
As he spoke, Mo Buxiu stared unblinkingly at Lu Bei. "Disciple, have you noticed that ever since becoming my disciple, you haven't called me master even once?"
Under that tender, affectionate gaze, Lu Bei shuddered. He didn't know if it was an illusion, but the look was overflowing with greasy sentimentality.
For a moment, his entire being felt wrong.
Thinking of how he had been forced into becoming a disciple, with all the reluctance in his heart, and then considering that Mo Buxiu truly didn't have much time left—this was likely a final burst of life force. If he delayed even a little, Mo Buxiu might leave this world with regrets.
He was rather pitiful.
In the end, facing that gaze full of expectation, Lu Bei drew a deep breath and said solemnly:
"Master."
"Good! Good! Good..."
Mo Buxiu clapped and cheered. Then he lowered his head with a smile and fell silent once more.
Lu Bei: "..."
Having learned from the previous incident, he wasn't sure whether history might repeat itself. He waited a moment before reaching out to test Mo Buxiu's breath.
Unexpectedly, when his fingertips were still a palm's breadth away from Mo Buxiu, the old Daoist's body rapidly turned to sand, scattering into a pile of white ash.
Lu Bei was still staring blankly when the wooden box beside him whipped up a vortex of air and sucked the white ash inside. In the span of a few breaths, it completed the entire funeral service; only the banquet remained.
"This is... well..."
Lu Bei was momentarily speechless. "Well... convenient."
He put away the Qiankun Bag, picked up the wooden box, and began walking around the Taoist temple. After searching several times, he finally found a wooden offering table in the tattered main hall.
The wall behind it looked fairly sturdy, and the roof didn't seem likely to collapse without warning. The only problem was that he had arrived at the wrong time: there were already residents beneath the table.
A nest of foxes suddenly burst out, yapping and howling wildly for a while, hoping to frighten away the unwelcome intruder through sheer numbers.
It was completely useless. After Lu Bei suddenly stomped his foot, the four foxes immediately fell silent and fled, burrowing into a hole in the wall and vanishing into the mountain forest.
"Foxes in this world can cultivate into monsters. Now that I've driven out this batch of residents, could a Fox Spirit come to seduce me tonight?" Lu Bei set down the wooden box and pondered. He had been careless earlier. Given that he couldn't carry anything heavy or even lift a hand in self-defense—a textbook frail scholar—figuring out how to spend the night on the mountain was truly a difficult problem.
Go down the mountain?
Going down the mountain was impossible. He had seen the way clearly on the journey here: the mountain road was rugged and steep, and it was extremely unfriendly to someone with a fear of heights.
Most importantly, he was hungry.
After trying and failing to open the Qiankun Bag, Lu Bei tragically discovered that he was trapped on the mountain. For now, the only things he could count on were Senior Sister Bai, whom he had never met, and the Fox Spirit that might return tonight to take revenge.
"Hopefully, senior sister will come soon..."
Lu Bei muttered, closed his eyes, and opened the Status Panel.
Name: Lu Bei Race: Human Template: NPC Level: 3 Experience: 250/900 Cultivation: 30/30 Health: 22/30 (Hunger, Fright, Fatigue) Main Profession: None Secondary Profession: Farmer Lv1 Attributes: Strength 2, Speed 3, Spirit 3, Endurance 3, Charisma 3, Luck 3 Evaluation: Please have some self-awareness. What is there to evaluate?!
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