As night drew near, the rain came down harder than it had during the day. It pattered against the oilpaper umbrella with a dull, steady drumming that somehow calmed the heart.
Song You walked and pondered, moving slowly.
The methods on Mati Mountain were truly ingenious. Even with his cultivation and attainments, he had seen only the path and the pavilion, without noticing the mystery concealed within.
He could only feel that whoever had arranged it must have possessed no shallow attainments in this regard.
Then again, perhaps not.
The countless arts of the world each held their own mysteries, like the myriad branches of knowledge and innumerable trades—who could possibly be proficient in every one of them?
Especially in this age, when information was so cut off. Once one's learning and experience had reached a certain level, further progress could truly only come from seeing with one's own eyes, piling up the years, and comprehending things through one's own heart. Even immortals who had lived a thousand years would not dare claim to understand all the mystic arts of the world, much less Song You, who had been here for barely more than twenty years. There were countless methods in this world that he did not know and that Fulong Temple had never recorded.
Nor was it true that profound cultivation could overcome all things. Cultivation was cultivation, learning was learning, experience was experience, and attainment was attainment. Even an old immortal might be misled by a little trick he had never encountered before.
It was both logical and self-consistent, and also profound and mysterious.
Yet Song You still thought of someone—
Anqing's "Yan Immortal."
A few days ago, he had spoken with Qingyangzi about Yan Immortal.
He had been the one to ask Qingyangzi about him.
Yan Immortal