The Ninth Day of the Ninth Month

Although the staff at the manor were delighted when he changed his mind, he knew he didn't have time to help them calm the beasts.

Over the next few days, Ling Qing spent points on the Special Affairs Department's exchange platform to buy a stick made of Iron Birch Wood, a product from a dungeon.

This wood was as hard as steel and could be counted among the hardest kinds of wood. It was perfect for a Druid's weapon.

He spent the rest of his time constantly planting trees.

Time flew by.

The ninth day of the ninth month.

The date was based on the lunar calendar, also known as the Purple Gold Calendar.

In the Book of Changes, "nine" was a yang number. When two yang nines were doubled, it was called "Double Ninth."

Thus, this day was also known as the Double Ninth Festival.

It symbolized the return of nine to one, the beginning of a new cycle, and the renewal of all things.

Daoists believed that on this day, pure qi rose while turbid qi sank. The higher the terrain, the more pure qi gathered, allowing one to ride it up to heaven.

It was the best time to "ascend to heaven and become an immortal."

That was why Lao Mountain Shangqing Palace had scheduled the dungeon-opening ceremony for this day.

On September 7, two days ago, Ling Qing and Tian Yong's group had arrived. They had spent yesterday resting and relaxing. Today was the day they would open the Time Fragment.

But the moment he had approached Mount Lao two days ago, an entry had appeared in his previously empty dungeon panel.

"Lao Mountain Daoist (Conditions for opening not met)

Challenge Rating: 1-?"

Ling Qing had been delighted when he saw it.

The Heart of the Druid within him really could sense the fluctuations of a dungeon opening, and it allowed him to freely choose whether or not to enter.

That meant all Ling Qing had to do was find out where a dungeon had once opened, and he could detect its related information.

"Conditions for opening not met" could mean the time had not yet come, or that some kind of anchor, special ritual, or something similar was required.

But in all likelihood, it would be something connected to the dungeon.

It had been difficult to find useful information about the Phantom Town dungeon last time, but the Lao Mountain Daoist dungeon was different.

For a myth or legend known to every household, it shouldn't be hard to find the anchor needed to open the dungeon, as long as one studied and searched carefully.

As for "Challenge Rating: 1-?", that made Ling Qing even more cautious.

The question mark probably wasn't an error. It meant the upper limit of the rating was uncertain.

That meant the dungeon could hold both level-one rookies and powerhouses whose levels exceeded the ceiling.

The disheveled Daoist lying by the roadside might well be an immortal who had attained the Dao, while the white-browed old monk praying in the ancient temple might be a mountain-dwelling man-eating spirit in disguise.

Lao Mountain Shangqing Palace.

The only monastic Taoist temple within Mount Lao.

Monastic temples did not allow their priests to take disciples, and their property could not be inherited. They belonged to all Daoists under heaven.

At the moment, though, the palace was more closely affiliated with the tourism bureau and open to visitors as a tourist attraction.

That was how things had been until now. What would happen afterward was beyond Ling Qing's ability to guess.

Today, Shangqing Palace had closed its doors to visitors. What's more, the entire Mount Lao scenic area was closed to the public.

This was to minimize the number of ordinary people who might get caught up in the affair.

As for whether they had been deprived of a chance to change their fates, that was a matter of perspective.

At least the Special Affairs Department believed that staying alive mattered more. Those with real talent would have another chance next time.

Although the scenic area was closed and the entire region seemed rather deserted, Shangqing Palace itself was anything but peaceful.

The area in front of Sanqing Hall was packed with people. The small courtyard was crammed full, everyone whispering among themselves.

Ling Qing was no exception. He held a Medical Banner with a new Iron Birch Wood pole, wore a simple but comfortable robe, and still carried the Medicine Case reinforced with vine branches on his back.

Together with several gifted people he had gotten to know at the manor, he speculated about what would happen next.

They were all dressed in different styles, making the place look like a massive historical cosplay event.

Neither side had known before that the other had been given a chance, but now that they had met, there was no awkwardness between them.

Regardless of whether they had any special connections, anyone who could come had clearly been recognized by the Special Affairs Department and was capable of surviving in this large dungeon. Their strength was at least reliable.

Ling Qing hadn't gotten by on his connections to Tian Yong and the others alone. His highly effective Ghost-Repelling Pills, physical fitness on par with a third-rate martial artist, and skill with a couple of spells had all helped.

Most importantly, his ability to identify plants and make animals feel favorably toward him had secured his place with the Special Affairs Department.

He might not have been stronger than everyone else, but in terms of survival skills, Ling Qing was among the better ones.

That was mainly because the Special Affairs Bureau had so many capable people.

Unlike him, Tian Yong and the others, along with over a hundred people of equal standing, stood in a ring around the square.

"Dong—"

At the toll of a bell, the crowd fell silent. A group of people emerged from Sanqing Hall.

At the head was a Daoist in a robe and headscarf. He had a fair, clean-shaven face and looked to be around thirty.

He was presumably Daoist Lingguan, the one leading this dungeon expedition.

He held a small bronze bell, about the size of a palm. It was simple yet imposing, and when he gently shook it, it rang out with a deep, melodious chime.

The sound seemed to come from an ancient temple deep in the mountains.

Leading thirty-six youths of fifteen or sixteen to the center of the square, he stopped there.

They were dressed alike, each in practical short garments with a cloth bundle on their back.

Every one of them looked alert and bright-eyed. Though they didn't march in perfect unison like soldiers, their steps were orderly enough to show that they had undergone group training.

At the same time, another sixteen people in Daoist robes arrived, carrying prayer banners and ritual instruments: bells, chimes, drums, cymbals, swords, Command Flags, jade seals, ruyi scepters, and more.

The eight carrying prayer banners took their positions according to the eight trigrams, enclosing the hundred-plus people, including Tian Yong.

Ling Qing and the others had to squeeze farther back to make room.

Those holding ritual instruments took their places in pairs at the northeast, southeast, southwest, and northwest corners. As the bronze bell in the Daoist's hand rang out at the center—

In an instant, the prayer banners fluttered and the drums and music rang out.

At some point, Daoist Lingguan had produced a jade tablet. Ripples of clear light shimmered across it in time with the music.

At the same time:

"Dungeon opening detected. Would you like to enter?"

"So it's true."

Ling Qing looked at the prompt before him, his spirits rising.

The dungeon panel's "Conditions for opening not met" had turned into a familiar countdown.

He looked up and saw that Daoist Lingguan and the thirty-six youths in the center of the square had vanished. Tian Yong and the others standing around them disappeared just as quickly.

When Ling Qing saw people nearby vanishing as well, he focused his thoughts and confirmed his choice.

His figure disappeared from the crowd.

As the darkness before his eyes faded, a fresh, elegant ink painting of mountains and rivers appeared before him.

Amid swirling white clouds, mountain peaks soared into the sky along the shores of Cangming. White cranes wheeled overhead, and spirit apes cried out—a truly immortal scene.

Vague palaces and temples stood atop the mountain peaks.

At the same time, a message appeared in his mind.

"Alone deep in the pine woods, I gaze toward the sunset and the returning boats.

Waves crash one after another against the riverbank, startling the drunken old fisherman amid the misty waters.

Ancient caves lie hidden beneath green pines; white clouds shroud the mountain peaks, deep and secluded.

With a bamboo brush in hand, I wander at ease, painting the changing forms of gray dogs.

By the East Sea, among the mountains, inside an ancient temple, there was a Daoist with white hair hanging to his collar, his expression bright and vigorous.

He cut paper into the shape of a moon and invited the Moon Palace..."