Since the Literature Academy was founded ten thousand years ago by that emperor whose might could swallow ten thousand miles like a tiger, it had been inextricably bound to the rise and fall of every dynasty.
The Sacred Mountain stood apart from the world. The Literature Academy and Martial Temple had in fact sought to imitate it, but as the ties between dynasties and the Literature Academy grew ever deeper, such imitation naturally became impossible.
The Literature Academy had gradually evolved from a force originally focused on cultivators of the spirit into a gathering place for scholars from across the land.
It drew in scholars from all under heaven, where all manner of ideas erupted within its walls. Gradually, Confucianism became foremost among them. Great Confucian scholars of the court, masters of the Literature Academy, and others even nurtured a Vast Righteous Power distinct from vital blood and the mind spirit.
Compared with the Martial Temple's purity, the Literature Academy was far more complicated. Its three masters represented three factions and three differing schools of thought, surging through the academy like undercurrents.
Spring rain fell in a fine drizzle, spilling over the white walls and black tiles of the Literature Academy's buildings. It was like an exquisite ink-wash landscape painting, carrying a touch of the watery towns south of the Yangtze.
Beyond the Literature Academy's white jade archway, through a secluded path, past tender blossoms scattered by the rain, one could see a grass hut hidden amid several banana trees.
A hut was built amid the human realm, yet free from the clamor of carts and horses.
Beneath the grass hut, the spring breeze drifted through the hall, blowing the steam from a charcoal stove askew.
Under the eaves, droplets gathered from the spring rain and streamed down like a curtain, pattering onto the ground. Together with the rain striking the banana leaves nearby, they sounded like silk and bamboo playing music, every note falling upon the ear.
Two aged figures sat before a chessboard, black and white pieces scattered across it as they played their silent game of hands.
Old Man of the Imperial Ancestral Temple held the black pieces. He placed one down, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the board.
Across from him sat the elderly man in Confucian robes whom he had met at the mountainside pavilion that day—Third Master Wang Banshan of the Literature Academy.
Third Master placed a white piece and captured one of Zhao Huangting's black stones.
"You think so highly of that young painter, even gifting him Azure Mountain. Why do you suddenly have the leisure to come play a game with this old man?"
Third Master smiled at his old friend.
"There is nothing much to watch. The suspense is slight. Whoever wields my Azure Mountain must naturally stand head and shoulders above the rest."
Zhao Huangting took a sip of premium West Lake Longjing, raised a long brow, and reached out to take back the black piece he had just played. However, Third Master smacked away his extended hand.
"Oh? You think so highly of this painter? With the Sixth Mountain Lord opening the mountain this time, none of those competing to become Mountain Guardian are ordinary. Ye Chong of Ye Manor, Zhong Shun Chao of the Zhong Family, and I hear even Luo Qingchen put aside his pride and went."
Third Master smiled brightly as he placed another piece, swallowing a large stretch of black stones from the terrible chess player across from him.
Zhao Huangting's face darkened. He gulped down a huge mouthful of Longjing, so furious that even his long brows trembled. What was wrong with taking back one move?!
"Luo Qingchen? That little fellow with a Dao Heart made of tofu? With the Sixth Mountain Lord's temperament, he would never favor him. As for the Zhong Family and Ye Family, if that girl Ye Wenxi of the Ye Family were willing to compete, she would have it in the bag. But Ye Wenxi's talent rivals that great general of the Ye Family stationed at the Changlang River. Her aspirations are lofty, so she would never willingly lower herself to become a Mountain Guardian. Her target must be the Minor Saint Ranking, a chance to speak with the Sacred Teacher, and opening the Seventh Mountain."
Zhao Huangting stopped playing and simply drank his tea.
After all, if this game continued, he would undoubtedly lose. But as long as he did not place another piece, he could not lose.
Third Master naturally saw through Zhao Huangting's shameless ploy. He smiled but did not expose him.
"Then it seems that young painter will certainly enter the Sixth Mountain. For the Lin family, that counts as good news." Third Master sighed. "The Lin family has been loyal and valiant through every generation. Yet it is precisely because they have been loyal and valiant through every generation that they have fallen into such an awkward situation today. Imperial families are the most heartless. That noble person in Heavenly Profound Palace must wait and see the outcome of the struggle for the true dragon heir. The influence of the Lin, Zhong, and Ye families is too great."
"Do not mention that fellow. It grates on my ears and troubles my heart, disgracing our old Zhao family."
Zhao Huangting chewed the Longjing leaves with his tongue, their rich fragrance bursting through his mouth. He shot Third Master a sidelong glance, somewhat annoyed.
Third Master smiled. Though that noble person in Heavenly Profound Palace held an exalted status, neither of them spoke with the slightest reservation.
"There is one thing you said wrong. Little Friend An may not necessarily enter the Sixth Mountain."
Zhao Huangting changed the subject.
Third Master stroked his beard and chuckled, seemingly unsurprised. "I would like to hear the details."
"Leaving aside that Jade Guanyin of the Hua family has gone there, based solely on what I know of Little Friend An, he may not choose to become a Mountain Guardian."
Zhao Huangting steeped another pot of hot tea, blew away the steam above his cup, and spoke calmly.
"In fact, if he truly accepted the position of Mountain Guardian, I would be disappointed. Mountain Guardian, Mountain Guardian—the position may be noble, and he would count as a disciple of the Sacred Mountain, but in a sense, he would be a mountain lord's attendant. That is still an inferior path, one that could easily break his spirit. That Azure Mountain... he might not be able to bear it."
Third Master could not help narrowing his eyes.
"Little Friend An has only recently begun his cultivation. Beginning enlightenment at eighteen is indeed somewhat late, and he missed the golden years of childhood for laying a solid foundation. Yet Little Friend An's talent is truly exceptional, especially in the path of the sword, where he is remarkably gifted."
"Thus, I would rather Little Friend An take the Minor Sacred Token and walk the most difficult road. If he could gain an opportunity to speak with the Sacred Teacher, perhaps he might even have the chance to enter the long-vacant Seventh Mountain and become the Seventh Mountain Lord?"
"My hopes for him remain high. After all... Azure Mountain gathered dust in my hands. I only hope he can release the Sword Qi concealed within Azure Mountain and perhaps one day take a swing at the Yuan Meng Emperor, number one beneath heaven."
Zhao Huangting smiled as he gazed at the spring rain filling the skies, his eyes hazy.
"My attitude is hidden within Azure Mountain's Sword Qi. Amid the entangled Sword Qi, the Sixth Mountain Lord should understand my intent. If that youth wishes to become a Mountain Guardian, then let him have his wish. If he does not, I shall spend a favor owed to this old man, and the Sixth Mountain Lord will naturally grant him a Minor Sacred Token. But Hua Jiebing of the Lin family has gone as well, surely for that Minor Sacred Token. This old man may be able to save that favor."
"Still, once the Minor Sacred Token is in hand, entering the Minor Saint Ranking is required. Whether he can rise above the crowd will be the true test."
As his words fell—
The spring rain abruptly intensified, the descending droplets crackling louder and louder.
A thunderclap sounded behind the clouds. Rain poured down in torrents, and Sword Qi lay within the rain.
Third Master and Zhao Huangting turned together toward the distance. A faint Azure Mountain emerged through the misty downpour.
"There, Jade Guanyin has drawn her sword."
An Le looked in surprise at Madam Hua beside him, whose aura was as deep as an abyss.
Her vast mind spirit seemed to warp the light between heaven and earth. Dimly, it was as though he beheld a Bodhisattva seated alone upon a lotus, and with a finger pinching a flower, Sword Qi filled the heavens!
In the name of being An Le's protector, Madam Hua sought a Minor Sacred Token...
An Le had heard Madam Hua mention before that the Minor Sacred Token was the second condition for meeting the Sacred Teacher!
So the Minor Sacred Token had to be obtained from a mountain lord?
At the mountainside pavilion.
The middle-aged man in azure robes looked at Hua Jiebing, whose flower-pinching gesture gave birth to Sword Qi. Coldness returned to his face.
"You wish to obtain a Minor Sacred Token for him?"
The azure-robed man rested a hand upon his sword case. The sword within trembled.
Madam Hua's exquisite face was filled with solemnity. She gave a slight nod, and her immense mind spirit gathered into a hazy phantom of Guanyin.
"The Inherited Heart Sword of Ganye Temple is indeed impressive."
"Save some strength for the trouble Lin Manor is about to face. There is no need to contend with me. Someone has spent a favor to secure him a Minor Sacred Token." The azure-robed man spoke indifferently.
Madam Hua's solemn expression froze at once. Then, as though recalling something, she looked toward the Bamboo Breaking Sword at An Le's waist.
That senior had actually gone so far for An Le?
But it made sense. That senior had even gifted him the bamboo sword. Sending An Le to compete for Mountain Guardian truly did not suit that senior's overbearing temperament—the temperament of one who dared draw his sword against the Yuan Meng Emperor.
Once Madam Hua understood, a smile touched her lips. She inclined herself gracefully toward the Sixth Mountain Lord. "Then I shall trouble you, Mountain Lord."
The Sixth Mountain Lord's mouth twitched stiffly. "The more favors one can erase, the better."
Madam Hua covered her mouth and chuckled. He had a point.
She could already imagine that old senior beating his chest and stamping his feet in frustrated rage at this very moment.
An Le held the Ink-Colored Azure Blade as he met the gazes of Madam Hua and the Sixth Mountain Lord. His expression could not help turning solemn.
The Sixth Mountain Lord crooked a finger, and the Ink-Colored Azure Blade in An Le's hand immediately flew out, hovering beside him.
"This sword emerged from my case. It is called Ink Pool, and it is fated with you. The Minor Sacred Token shall be placed within it."
After speaking, the mountain lord ran two sword fingers across the blade, and brilliant golden light sank into it.
He tapped a finger again, and Ink Pool shot away. It landed three hundred steps below the mountainside pavilion, piercing the trunk of a peach tree beside the path.
"Climb the mountain and retrieve the sword. If you can take it, you will receive the Minor Sacred Token. If you cannot, then become my Mountain Guardian and do not think again of opening the mountain. What say you?"
The mountain lord looked at An Le and asked.
Madam Hua frowned. "Mountain Lord, An Le's cultivation is still too low. To climb the Sixth Mountain..."
"I only ask him to climb three hundred steps, not reach the summit. Besides, the stairs of my Sixth Mountain test one's resonance with the sword. This is not excessive."
The mountain lord interrupted Madam Hua.
Madam Hua said no more, leaving An Le to make his own choice. This was in truth an opportunity for An Le. Obtaining the Minor Sacred Token with his own hands held far greater meaning than having her obtain it for him.
Moreover, climbing the Sixth Mountain... was itself an opportunity countless cultivators dreamed of.
An Le looked toward the summit of Azure Mountain, at the Ink-Colored Azure Blade embedded in the peach tree.
As the Innate Swordsman Dao Fruit trembled, the sword seemed to call to him from afar—with longing, hope, and entreaty.
An Le took a deep breath and said without further hesitation, "I am willing to climb the mountain and retrieve the sword."
The Sixth Mountain Lord and Madam Hua both nodded.
Then the mountain lord swept his sleeve. Sword light coiled around An Le's body, and in a flash like drifting light and fleeting shadow, he landed at the foot of the mountain.
At the foot of the mountain, misty rain began to fall once more.
The cultivators were still reeling from the sight of the youth raising his sword to pierce the skies when they suddenly saw a streak of sword light flash past. The young man in white had returned to the mountain's foot.
Everyone was stunned and confused.
Luo Qingchen, Zhong Shun Chao, and Ye Chong, who had just descended from the mountain, were equally taken aback when they saw An Le.
Had he not been taken in to become a Mountain Guardian?
Why had he come back down?
But saw An Le ignore the watching crowd. His expression was graver than ever as he gently exhaled, stepped forward, and began climbing the stairs.
The instant he set foot upon the mountain path, the Sword Qi of the entire Azure Mountain seemed to awaken in a single moment. Sword cries rang sonorously, like ancient bells and chimes being struck, as invisible pressure arose from nothing.
Luo Qingchen and the other two immediately understood what had happened. The way they looked at An Le changed completely.
"This man gave up becoming a Mountain Guardian, yet he actually dreams of obtaining a Minor Sacred Token and gambling for a chance to speak with the Sacred Teacher?!"
Zhong Shun Chao and Ye Chong exchanged looks, their eyes filled with extreme surprise and even admiration.
Luo Qingchen, however, felt as though he had been stabbed in the back. The status of Mountain Guardian that he treasured had been delivered right to the other man's lips, yet the other man would not even accept it.
For a time, Luo Qingchen could only feel the dust upon his Dao Heart that had arisen because of that youth...
Spreading like ink through water, growing wider and wider.
P.S. A new week—please send recommendation votes!
Let me explain: Old Li is trying to write this book in a style different from before, hoping to make some changes. After reading works by great authors like Mao Ni and Fenghuo, I can feel, while writing, the charm of weighing every word and polishing every phrase. But perhaps this is my first attempt, and I have not yet grasped the right balance. Old Li is also slowly adjusting. Also, our follow-up reading numbers are good, and we have hope of making Sanjiang, but the editor said we need to stabilize those readers and also try competing for the little loudspeaker slot. So everyone must keep reading along. Please do not stockpile chapters. Let us wield our swords and cleave through every obstacle!
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