Kid, I Told You Not to Steal Chickens

Inside the Water Mirror in the Heaven-in-a-Gourd Palace.

At first, there was little difference between the Daoists climbing the mountain.

But as time passed, differences in their understanding and Dao Hearts gradually revealed the gaps between them, and the crowd began to spread out.

After thirty steps, their numbers halved.

After sixty steps, their numbers halved again.

Most of those still persevering were disciples of major sects, with a handful from minor lineages and rogue cultivators.

In the stands, Xuanxu clenched the fist hidden in his sleeve. Xuan Kong and Fei Bai stopped talking, while Xuan Yang watched with burning eyes. Of the Truth-Seeking Abbey's ten disciples, only two were still persevering.

Changqingzi stood on the fiftieth step.

Chang'anzi stood on the sixty-seventh.

Apart from Xuan Yang, who watched his own disciple, everyone else watched Chang'anzi, anxious yet expectant.

But soon, their expressions changed drastically.

The steps had begun to change. Cloudlight bloomed, the mist thickened, and two hands reached out from each step beyond the sixtieth.

They belonged to the reflections within the steps.

As they emerged, their hands, feet, and bodies were white, and their faces had no features at all. They were faceless men formed from cloud and mist.

The higher the climbers went, the more completely the faceless men emerged. On the sixty-first step, there were only hands; by the seventieth, they had emerged entirely.

Upon reaching the seventy-first step, mist coiled around the climbing Daoists, and the reflections exchanged auras with their originals.

With each step, the mist figures gained more color, becoming more like the climbing Daoists.

By the eightieth step, everything below their heads was identical to the Daoists.

By the eighty-fifth, even their features were clearly visible, making true and false hard to distinguish.

From the eighty-sixth step onward, the originals and reflections began exchanging positions. The originals sank into the steps little by little, as though sinking underwater or into a mire, while their identities began to switch.

Xuanxu's palms grew sweaty.

Xuan Yin watched without blinking.

Xuan Kong kept drinking tea.

They feared Chang'anzi would fail to hold on. Once he passed this trial, a place in the top hundred would be firmly in his grasp.

On the steps of Cloud Heaven Peak.

Chang'anzi felt as though he had traveled through time and returned to the past. He saw his master and lived through his life all over again.

As a mischievous boy, he climbed trees to steal birds, waded into rivers to catch fish, and stole his elders' spirit food. His master always flew into a towering rage, caning him by day and secretly applying ointment to his wounds at night.

As he grew older, he began cultivating, sitting in meditation to refine qi and holding horse stances. His master taught him personally, but he always complained of the hardship, crying until tears and snot streamed down his face, then slacking off whenever his master wasn't looking. Yet his master never grew angry, teaching him patiently time and again.

Later, when he had made some progress in cultivation, his master took him traveling down the mountain. They saw the splendor of the mortal world, the bustling life of ordinary folk, and the intrigues within grand estates.

They slew demons and evil spirits, destroyed ghosts and monsters, ate exquisite delicacies in restaurants, sampled rustic fare in the countryside, sailed across lakes, and walked through forests. Master and disciple traveled three hundred li together.

Later, his master entered the Heaven and Earth Academy, and he shared in the honor. The two talked freely beneath the moon, though his master did most of the talking. He secretly drank a few cups of wine, became thoroughly muddled, and slept for an entire day.

Still later, news arrived of his master's sudden death. It felt as though the sky had collapsed. He secretly left the mountain, only to be ambushed along the way. Gravely injured, his cultivation fell, and he was on the brink of death when elders from his lineage arrived in time to save him.

Afterward, disheartened, he secluded himself in the Scripture Pavilion. Spending his days with his martial uncle Xuanming, he was moved by the man's unwavering devotion to the Dao...

Everything from his past surfaced in his mind. Joy and sorrow, partings and reunions, love and Hatred all came surging in.

Whether he welcomed them or not, they swept over him with an irresistible, overbearing force.

In the beautiful moments, flowers bloomed beneath a full moon.

In the cruel moments, every blade stabbed his heart.

What he had never forgotten grew fresher with time.

Even what he had forgotten had its seals torn away.

His memories had never been so clear.

Memory overlapped with reality, past tangled with present. The confusion on Chang'anzi's face deepened. He could no longer tell where he was and forgot what he was doing.

Then the scene of him stealing a chicken appeared again. He sneaked onto Mysterious Maiden Peak and, while his junior martial sister Chang Ning wasn't looking, seized a spirit chicken by the neck. Without a shred of mercy, he crushed its neck with a crack.

In the mountain woods, he plucked and bled it, slit its belly and gutted it, then gathered firewood and lit a fire. When the aroma of meat spread and fat sizzled from its skin, Chang'anzi was delighted. He picked up the roast chicken, raced up Dao-Treasuring Peak, and entered the Path-Seeking Courtyard.

"Martial uncle, I've got something good!"

Yet though the familiar scenery remained, the familiar figure was nowhere to be seen. His martial uncle was neither in the courtyard nor in the Scripture Pavilion.

Unable to find him, Chang'anzi stopped looking.

He tore off half the chicken and left it for his martial uncle, then sat beneath the gnarled old pine in the Path-Seeking Courtyard. Breathing in its enticing aroma, he lowered his head to take a bite—only for his martial uncle to appear out of nowhere.

The white-haired old Daoist bristled with Rage. Holding the Peachwood Sword, he slashed it down.

"You little brat! Didn't I tell you not to steal chickens again? You're asking for a beating!"

Crack!

Sword wind howled, and Chang'anzi jolted awake.

The scene shattered. Reality was severed from memory, and past was cut away from present.

The instant he opened his eyes, Chang'anzi discovered that everything below his head had sunk into the step. Another version of himself stood looking down at him, wearing an eerie smile.

A flash of inspiration brought sudden understanding. He said, "The true is true, and the false is false. The true cannot be false, and the false cannot be true."

"There's a saying in the mortal world: true gold fears no trial by fire. Though you are my reflection, you can never become me."

The instant his words fell, Cloud Heaven Peak responded.

Flames erupted from the ninetieth step, burning the other Chang'anzi. Screams rang out as the counterfeit began reverting to its original form.

Its features, skin color, hair ornaments, clothing, and everything else flowed away like water, revealing a figure of mist. Then the mist itself turned to water. For every inch of water that flowed into the step, Chang'anzi emerged an inch.

When all the water had flowed into the step, Chang'anzi had completely escaped the mire. Looking down again, he saw that the water had not re-formed into a reflection. It had vanished entirely.

At that moment, understanding dawned in Chang'anzi's heart:

So I've found myself again.

His eyes were clearer than ever. Never before had he understood himself as clearly as he did now.

He also understood one thing:

Trials were opportunities, too.

Both lay beneath his feet.

The farther he walked and the higher he climbed, the closer he came to opportunity, and the easier it became to claim its blessings.

It all depended on whether he could rise to the challenge.

Each step was a trial.

Every thirty steps formed a major hurdle.

Passing it allowed him to reap an opportunity.

The discovery excited Chang'anzi. Steadying his mind, he resumed his climb.

With his next step, there were no more searching questions. His body merely grew heavy as an invisible weight pressed down.

After carefully sensing it, he climbed step by step.

In the stands, the Daoists of the Truth-Seeking Abbey rejoiced.

He'd done it!

Chang'anzi was assured a place in the top hundred of the Dao debate assessment.

Unfortunately, Changqingzi stopped at the ninetieth step.

Though regretful, the Daoists remained in good spirits. Not only had Chang'anzi made them proud, but Changqingzi's performance in this assessment would place him within the top hundred and fifty. As long as he did well in the hundred cultivation arts and martial competition, he still had a chance of entering the top hundred.

On Cloud Heaven Peak, Chang'anzi was drenched in sweat.

Beyond the ninetieth step, the pressure doubled with every step he climbed.

He guessed that these thirty steps tested perseverance.

Standing on the hundred and fifteenth step, Chang'anzi drew a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and kept moving forward.

He cultivated the Spirit Aspect Body-Refining Art and possessed a powerful physique. His punishing cultivation over the past year and a half had also given him exceptional perseverance.

For now, he could still withstand it.

Each step weighed him down further. His pace grew slower, his back bent lower, and his powerful muscles bulged as though they might burst through his Daoist robe at any moment.

Yet he still climbed, steadily upward!

Through the Water Mirror, the many guests watched Chang'anzi pass opponent after opponent. When he entered the top fifty, the Great Daoist Sect could no longer remain composed. Guests from the other factions whispered among themselves, asking about him.

Upon learning he came from the Truth-Seeking Abbey, their reactions varied. The other factions remarked that a hero's origins did not matter, while the Great Daoist Sect looked at the Truth-Seeking Abbey differently.

The Truth-Seeking Abbey again!

Among the Purple Dawn Sect's delegation, the leading grand elder asked, "I recall that this minor Daoist lineage once produced a Daoist who entered the assembly's top fifty, taking first place among the minor lineages. I believe his name was Xuan Ye."

An accompanying elder replied, "That's right. Twenty years ago, he ranked eightieth in the Cloud Heaven Peak trial."

The grand elder looked at the Water Mirror and sighed. "It seems the Truth-Seeking Abbey is very skilled at teaching disciples. This young man is even more outstanding than Xuan Ye. He's about to enter the top ten."

Some of the other Great Daoist Sects expressed similar sentiments, while others remained cold-faced or wore smiles.

Whether they liked it or not, none voiced Resentment. Before such a large crowd, they maintained their decorum and did not tarnish the image of the Daoist Tradition.

In the Truth-Seeking Abbey's stands, Xuanxu and the others had their hearts in their throats. They had never imagined Chang'anzi would make them so proud.

Even Daoist Fei Bai was swept up in the atmosphere, gulping tea as he grew anxious despite himself.

When Chang'anzi entered the top ten, Xuan Yang nearly laughed aloud, only for the sharp-eyed, quick-handed Xuan Kong to clamp a hand over his mouth.

For the moment, Chang'anzi knew nothing of what was happening outside.

When he gritted his teeth and stepped onto the hundred and twentieth step, his entire body shuddered. A surge of power flowed from the step into him, breaking through the bottleneck in his Spirit Aspect Body-Refining Art. His physical strength rose another level, and even his spiritual perception improved.

The mountainlike pressure instantly eased by more than half. He felt he could hold on a little longer, just as his martial uncle had once taught him:

Think of your master.

If you're not dead, train yourself to death.

Now, he thought not only of his master but also of his martial uncle. If he wasn't dead, he would climb himself to death.

Taking a deep breath, Chang'anzi continued upward.

On the hundred and twenty-first step, the trial changed again. It still tested perseverance, but now targeted his soul rather than his body. Sword moves came one after another, stabbing straight between his brows. A crack appeared in his mystic pass. He gave a muffled grunt and continued forward.

When he stepped onto it, most eyes turned toward him. They wanted to know how far this disciple of a minor sect could go. Though four Daoists remained ahead of him, they came from major sects, and the guests considered their performance only natural.

Chang'anzi, by contrast, was a dark horse.

The hundred and twenty-second, the hundred and twenty-fifth, the hundred and twenty-ninth...

As he climbed higher, cracks multiplied across his mystic pass.

One sword strike after another came. Enduring the pain of his soul being torn apart, Chang'anzi gradually recognized them. This was the new Eight Trigrams Sword buried deep in his memories. His martial uncle Xuanming had demonstrated it for him, and he himself had practiced it for a year and a half.

Yet none of the strikes formed a coherent sequence. They were chaotic and disordered.

But with each step he passed, his understanding of the Eight Trigrams Sword deepened. Disorder was untangled, and his sword intent improved.

So Chang'anzi endured the pain and continued forward.

Sweat soaked the steps, yet he persevered.

Cracks covered his mystic pass, yet he still persevered.

Finally, Chang'anzi went from stooping to crawling, yet still persevered, crawling over step after step.

He passed one person without knowing it.

He passed two without knowing it.

Even when he ranked second, he still did not know.

The spectators were moved.

Some felt disdain, while others felt admiration.

Among the Purple Dawn Sect, the grand elder said appreciatively, "This young man has tremendous perseverance."

On Cloud Heaven Peak, when he crawled onto the hundred and fiftieth step, Chang'anzi collapsed spread-eagled on the ground, looking as though he had just been pulled from the water.

But he was laughing, his hearty laughter ringing throughout the Heaven-in-a-Gourd Palace.

Because he had done it. He had conquered himself.

Every crack in his mystic pass vanished, transforming into a wealth of Sword Dao insights that flooded his heart.

The steps beneath his feet disappeared, and Cloud Heaven Peak faded away.

The instant Chang'anzi and two other young Daoists appeared above the Water Mirror, thunderous applause erupted, deafening in its intensity.

They were the top three in this trial.

The Azure-Robed True Person flew over.

He first offered encouragement to the winner from the Purple Dawn Sect, then came to speak with Chang'anzi, who had placed second.

"Congratulations, young friend, on taking second place in this year's Dao debate."

"For a disciple of a minor sect to come this far is unprecedented in Fengyang Commandery's thousand-year history."

"Your name is certain to spread throughout the Commandery City and its hundred counties. Even within our Great Xuan Divine Dynasty, your fame will soar."

Chang'anzi could hardly believe it:

"I won?"

"I took second place?"

The Azure-Robed True Person nodded.

He understood Chang'anzi's disbelief.

For he himself found it equally incredible. Had he not witnessed it firsthand, he would never have believed it.

"Young friend, your achievement is unprecedented in the thousand-year history of Fengyang Commandery's Heaven and Earth Academy. Having claimed such honors, your heart's lake must be far from calm, with countless feelings stirring within. Is there anything you would like to say?"

"Yes!"

The Azure-Robed True Person was curious.

Everyone else was curious, too.

The other two of the top three came from major sects. Only Chang'anzi's Daoist lineage was utterly ordinary.

They wanted to know what this young Daoist who had created a miracle would say.

"Whatever this humble Daoist has achieved today is inseparable from the wholehearted support of my abbey. Thank you for nurturing me."

Chang'anzi bowed in heartfelt gratitude.

Without his abbey raising him, he would already have died.

Without his abbey saving him, he would likewise have died.

In truth, he wanted even more to thank his martial uncle Xuanming.

Without his guidance, I would never have shed my old self and been reborn.

Without the body-refining method he taught me and the rigorous tempering he put me through, I could hardly have passed those two tests of perseverance.

Without him frequently urging me to study the scriptures over the past several years, I could hardly have made it past the first thirty steps.

Without his teachings still ringing in my ears, I could never have broken through the trial of the self, illuminated my heart and seen my true nature, and come to know my true self.

There were a hundred and fifty steps, with a different trial every thirty steps. His martial uncle had helped him overcome four of those trials.

That venerable elder deserved the greatest credit for his victory.

But his martial uncle preferred peace and quiet.

Only then did Chang'anzi swallow the thanks poised on his tongue. Keeping the mundane affairs of the mortal world from disturbing his martial uncle was the best repayment he could offer him.

From then on, this would be a creed he faithfully upheld.

Xuanxu and the others were equally moved.

They rose to their feet and returned his salute with clasped hands and bowed heads.

They were immensely proud that the Truth-Seeking Abbey had produced such a disciple.

Thanks to Let Us Hear the Dragon's Roar, Disappointment123, Azure Jade, First-Day Great Devil King, and 1611...4323 for one monthly vote each; thanks to Hey Heh Ha Hey, If You Call to Me Too, and 2022...2978 for two monthly votes each.