Chapter 150 – Entangled Grievances, Can One Sword Sever Them?

Before the face of Lord Lingmiao, a single sword severed the divine ranks of all the earth spirits upon this mountain. Thunder-light scattered in all directions, and for a time, it did not dissipate. Instead, it clustered around the young Daoist, faintly causing his aura to grow fierce and unyielding. Following Lord Lingmiao, the divine general dispatched by the Yujie Mountain God was also brought forth. Upon witnessing such a scene, his face turned deathly pale in fright.

After remaining dazed for several heartbeats, he suddenly dropped to his knees, his entire body trembling like chaff in the wind.

When Lord Lingmiao beheld that Five Thunders Judge Seal, a faint understanding already stirred in his heart—

And when Qi Wuhuo declared his name, he understood even more clearly: it must be that the Mountain God of Yujie had stirred up a grave disaster!

The Northern Pole Exorcism Court is directly under the head of the Four Great Emperors.

Though it is merely called a [court], its divine rank stands above even the Department of Thunder and the Department of Battle.

In the vastness of heaven and earth, who does not know of the Northern Pole’s holy ones and their fearsome might in slaughter?

Moreover, the Thunder Arts are the most upright and unyielding force between Heaven and Earth. Coupled with the Northern Pole Exorcism Five Thunders Seal, should one attempt to use it for selfish gain, or use the name of the Northern Pole Exorcism Court to oppress others, the Divine Firmament Heart-Questioning Thunder would immediately strike back, shattering one’s soul, leaving nothing behind.

One is a judge who must first pass judgment upon himself before judging others.

The other is a drunken Mountain God, now kneeling on the ground.

Between these two—who should be believed? Even those closest to the Yujie Mountain God would know the answer, let alone Lord Lingmiao. His face darkened at once. He offered a slight cupped-fist salute—not as the high-ranking mountain god of an entire province, but with courtesy befitting equals—and then said: “May I ask, Judge of the Five Thunders, what crime has Yujie committed?”

At this, the divine general’s expression shifted, as if to speak—

He had not yet raised his head—

When he felt a boundless, dreadful weight crash down upon him.

This time, it was not merely kneeling.

Even his head was forced to the ground by that terrifying pressure, slamming against the earth, unable to move in the slightest.

The young Daoist recounted the entire course of events to Lord Lingmiao, without omitting a single detail. As he spoke, the expression on the aged mountain god’s face grew ever more grim. At last, with a sweep of his sleeve, the bindings placed upon the divine general were dispelled. The man instinctively stood up, pale-faced—only to see that sleeve sweep past his face like the collapse of Heaven and Earth.

His divine status was directly stripped away.

No longer a god, but a ghost.

Once again cast into the netherworld.

“There is no need for True Person Qi to act—this matter, I shall handle myself.”

As he raised his hand, his white beard slightly lifted, still emanating the imposing aura befitting the chief among the mountain gods of Central Province. While on Mount Lingmiao, his power was not inferior to that of the heavenly immortals—merely one step below the True Lords. He added, “This matter is grave. May I invite True Person Qi to continue this discussion atop Lingmiao Mountain?”

The young Daoist accepted the invitation with pleasure.

Lord Lingmiao’s abode was rather modest. Only spiritual tea was offered—tea grown from trees he had planted himself upon the mountain. As he brewed the tea, he said: “This was something I once secretly planted in the mountains while cultivating the Dao. Now, it has been over a thousand years. One tree died, one I gifted to a fellow Daoist. As for the rest, only five remain here on the mountain. Yet the fragrance of the tea remains rich and mellow.”

“Please, True Person Qi.”

The young Daoist replied: “I dare not accept the title of ‘True Person.’”

Lord Lingmiao shook his head and said: “Though you have yet to formally reach the realm of a True Person, that is merely a difference in cultivation realm. Your Primordial Spirit and Primordial Qi—whether in purity or in depth—have long surpassed the ordinary Daoist masters. Even those True Persons nearing the end of their lifespan may not triumph over you in a contest of divine arts.”

The young Daoist answered: “It is only that I happen to be adept at combat.”

“To cultivate the Dao is not to kill and struggle.”

“Those who journey far do not always walk the path of battle.”

“This is indeed the case.”

Lord Lingmiao smiled and nodded. Once the necessary courtesies were concluded, he poured tea for the young Daoist. After briefly closing his eyes to gather his thoughts, Qi Wuhuo recounted the matter in greater detail. With the Five-Thunder Judge’s Seal present, Lord Lingmiao had no reason to doubt his words and believed him at once. Stroking his beard with a furrowed brow, he said:

“The dissipation of demonic qi is a matter that concerns the Three Realms. As Earth Spirit Deities, this duty falls squarely upon our shoulders. Naturally, we shall remain vigilant and see to the regulation of any stagnation in the ley lines. Should there be any change, we shall inform you, True Person. That may spare many needless losses.”

“In former days, the Northern Pole Exorcism Court seldom spoke of such matters to others. Their sole duty was to investigate and execute.”

“In those early years, the very first Human Sovereign once joined forces with the then-unified Dragon Sovereign of the demon race, and together they negotiated with Heaven and Earth. It was decided that the affairs of the human realm would be governed by the human race alone, and likewise for the demon race. Heaven and Earth would no longer interfere.”

“This incident arose because Yujie turned a blind eye to the traces of demonic qi dispersal. He failed to report it to me, made no attempt to address it, and even ignored the local earth god who was slain by the mountain fiend. Such dereliction of duty is worthy of execution. However, the aftermath in that village… shall have to trouble you, True Person. We Earth Spirit Deities may not intervene. Though you are an immortal official, you are still human—and thus, may act in such matters.”

Qi Wuhuo nodded. “I shall find a way.”

Holding his teacup, Lord Lingmiao reflected on the matter in its entirety and could not help but sigh deeply:

“A great plan that spanned three thousand six hundred years, undone, just like that…”

“It is not only the human territories—no doubt, unrest shall also stir within the demon realms.”

Seeing the young Daoist appear somewhat puzzled, Lord Lingmiao explained: “The Heaven is not the Heavenly Court of humans, but that of Heaven and Earth’s order. Any being with spirit and emotion may walk the path of cultivation. Among them, the number of demon immortals accounts for nearly a third, slightly more even than the human immortals. Thus, each bears a different nature, and all are called ‘Heaven’.”

“The mountains, rivers, lakes, and seas are not the sole domain of humanity. Half of the Earth Spirit Deities are, in fact, demons who have taken form and assumed responsibility. Thus, they are called ‘Earth’.”

“Strictly speaking, the Heavenly Court governs order, while the Earth Spirit Deities govern the ley lines.”

“The affairs of sentient beings—they do not partake in.”

“For to act on personal desire or favor invites chaos, turning the world to murk.”

“The conflicts among human immortals and demon immortals may stretch endlessly, bringing calamity that drags the mortal realm into it.”

“For this reason, the myriad immortals and gods may not meddle in worldly matters, much less intervene in the disputes of mortal kingdoms under the guise of divinity. To an existence such as the Dao Ancestor—born of the primordial breath and fulfilled by the Dao itself—all things are but part of the Dao’s unfolding. The human race and the demon race are but facets of all sentient life. Man slaughters man. Demon slaughters demon. Kingdoms of men wage war upon kingdoms of demons—what difference is there?”

“To be born is the Dao manifesting. To die is to return unto the Dao.”

“All that gathers shall one day scatter. Such is the way of things.”

“It is said that the Shangqing Great Dao Sovereign personally severed five great calamities, each one sufficient to bring ruin to Heaven and Earth and cause the collapse of the Grand Dao. As for the lesser tribulations he has extinguished, their number is beyond reckoning. Though he does not manifest as a sage in the mortal realm, he has rescued all living beings of the myriad worlds from the brink of destruction no fewer than thirty-seven times. Even the Great Dao of Heaven and Earth is thus — how much more so the human world? Calamities arise, and calamities are extinguished; this is a pattern, a cycle, that repeats endlessly without cessation.”

“So why throw oneself into it?”

“True Person Qi — do you understand this?”

Lord Lingmiao gazed upon the young Daoist before him, and sensing the aura of tribulation coiling about him, could not help but feel pity. So young, and yet already possessed of profound cultivation and Dao attainment. Over his long years, Lord Lingmiao had seen many cultivators touched by this aura of calamity — all of them extraordinary in talent, yet unable to overcome the Eight Hardships. Their natures became clouded, their hearts strayed ever further from the path, and in the end, they fell from the Dao. It was out of compassion that he spoke at length.

The young Daoist offered his thanks.

Then he set down his teacup, let both hands fall naturally upon his knees, and answered calmly: “Thank you, Lord Lingmiao.”

“Only, this poor Daoist has chosen to meet the tribulation of his own accord.”

At that, Lord Lingmiao’s expression faltered slightly, and for a moment, all his explanations fell silent.

Those four words — ‘chosen to meet the tribulation’ — though spoken with tranquility, stirred countless ripples in the heart of this mountain deity who had witnessed the mortal world for over a thousand years. He had long grown accustomed to his own path, and seldom had he heard such resolve. And now, even his spirit was moved.

Qi Wuhuo pondered for a moment, then said: “Calamities rise and fall — perhaps, as Lord Lingmiao has said, this is a law of nature.”

“From the perspective of countless ages, it is without meaning.”

“Just as we now look back upon the past several thousand years — in a single year, ten thousand things occur. Joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, amount to little more than a line of script.”

“But to those living in the mortal realm, is the calamity not still real?”

“If, because the ending is already fated, one does nothing; and if, knowing that this life must end in death, one chooses to do nothing — is there any difference between the two? Perhaps this poor Daoist is still young and cannot fully agree with Lord Lingmiao’s Way.”

“To wait for the calamity to pass is to follow the Dao; to draw the sword and break the tribulation — that, too, is a choice.”

“There are three thousand paths to the Dao.”

“Lord Lingmiao’s Way is true — but one cannot say that this poor Daoist’s choice to bear sword into tribulation lies outside the Dao.”

The young Daoist’s voice was steady and composed — neither arrogant nor servile.

Lord Lingmiao stroked his beard and sighed deeply, yet could find no words to reply.

To choose to meet tribulation head-on—such a bearing in a cultivator was far more perilous than the method of observing from the side and evading disaster for the sake of preserving oneself. Yet it carried its own measure of grandeur. If one could truly walk such a path to the end, then the attainment would surely be greater still. In that moment, Lord Lingmiao suddenly recalled the pure, crystalline Dao resonance he had sensed back in Shuiyun Village. His heart stirred faintly with realization. With a slight cupped-hand salute, he laughed in admiration and said:

“So that is how it is.”

“This old man dares to presume—perhaps I have guessed your lineage, Daoist.”

“No wonder—you must be a disciple of the Dao Ancestor himself.”

The young Daoist was slightly taken aback.

Lord Lingmiao rose to his feet, straightened his robes and crown, then knelt forward, drawing closer. Cupping his hands high toward the firmament, he bowed deeply and said solemnly:

“Such bearing, such Dao resonance.”

“To willingly face tribulation, to neither avoid nor retreat.”

“Could it be a true descendant of the Supreme Clarity(Fuli) Heaven, the Da Luo Heaven—of the Yuqing Yuanshi Great Heavenly Venerable, the Dao Ancestor of Original Qi himself?”

The young Daoist was momentarily speechless.

How had he suddenly become the direct disciple of the Yuqing Yuanshi Great Heavenly Venerable?

He shook his head and replied: “I am not.”

“Lord Lingmiao, you are mistaken.”

Lord Lingmiao hesitated. Then he thought again—he recalled what he had seen in Shuiyun Village, and considered all the youth had said and done since. His heart stirred once more. And this time, the possibility felt even more convincing than before. With a murmur of So that was it… so that was it…, he once more rose and cupped his hands toward the distant sky. In a low, reverent voice, he asked: “To bear sword into tribulation, to wield sword and break it—such resolve.”

“Could it be that you are of the direct lineage of the Shangqing Heaven, of the Shangqing Lingbao Great Heavenly Venerable Dao Ancestor?”

The young Daoist shook his head once more. Lord Lingmiao was now thoroughly bewildered. He lowered his cupped hands, repeatedly shaking his head in quiet wonder. “This… not that either? But… that shouldn’t be… no, it shouldn’t…”

Qi Wuhuo’s sword case lay to one side, while the little peacock on his shoulder had already hopped down and was cheerfully sharing Lord Lingmiao’s tea snacks with the little medicine spirit.

Lord Lingmiao belonged to the elder generation—and not merely old, but truly ancient.

The refreshments he had prepared were, unsurprisingly, also of considerable age:

Dense, baked cakes with solid structure; wild fruits from the mountain groves; and shelled nuts roasted with mountain salt. The little peacock and the medicine sprite were not the least bit picky. They ate joyfully. The young Daoist thought for a moment and said: “In truth, there is no great profound reason behind it. The simplest reason is—this poor Daoist was already within the tribulation.”

He fell silent briefly, reflecting on his childhood, on the narrow escapes from death. Looking back now, though he had struggled through it, he hadn’t thought too deeply at the time. And now, when he truly considered it, perhaps the greatest danger had come right at the beginning—when, moved by compassion, he had shared his food with other children, only to be beaten unconscious and robbed.

Had it not been for a sudden rain that drenched him awake—

Had it not been for those raindrops falling into his mouth—

He might well have perished then and there.

He had awoken to the sound of rain. What greeted his eyes was a curtain of rain, each drop like a string of pearls cascading from the heavens. The child, young and frail, was parched and famished. Before the storm had fully descended, he had hidden beneath a rock. There, he drank his fill of the rainwater, and only then did his strength slowly begin to return. He sat in a daze, watching the first rainfall after the long drought, his mind drifting—this moment of quiet amid calamity, where even the scorching heat that threatened to burn one’s very soul to ashes was momentarily held at bay, was a rare peace of heart.

Had it not been for that rain, Qi Wuhuo would have died.

He sat in silence for a long while, then slowly raised his head and looked toward Lord Lingmiao, who stood pondering in hesitation.

“Lord Lingmiao, this poor Daoist has a question to ask.”

Lord Lingmiao was roused from his thoughts. He had felt on the verge of some realization, but it continued to elude him—he still could not recall which master this young Daoist might be a disciple of. Gathering his thoughts, he said: “Please speak, Judge Qi.”

The heart of the young Daoist had returned from that long-ago rain.

He spoke softly: “The Dragon King of the Jing River.”

“Or rather… the previous Dragon King of the Jing River.”

“Was his name, Ao Liu?”

Lord Lingmiao gazed at Qi Wuhuo and did not immediately answer. Instead, he asked: “Are you here as a Judge, or as a Daoist?”

Qi Wuhuo replied: “As a Judge. And also a Daoist.”

The old mountain god looked closely at the youth and asked: “Ao Liu—what is his relation to you?”

Qi Wuhuo answered quietly: “He once saved my life.”

The old mountain god fell silent. He looked at Qi Wuhuo, a trace of sorrow and pity in his eyes. After a long while, he sighed deeply and said:

“It is not the previous Dragon King of the Jing River… it is the current one.”

“For certain reasons, he has yet to report his son’s name to the Registry of the Penglai Office. He wished to test his son first, to see whether he was truly capable of bearing the burden of such a role. Only after confirming his son’s worth would he submit his name, so as not to fail the countless lives dwelling within the Jing River’s domain.”

“The matter is of great import. It bears upon the lives of millions and must not be decided lightly.”

“Others believe the gods wield great power—able to summon wind and rain with a single thought. But I know, a single thought may bring suffering upon the people. A single thought may also grant them life. That is why he was so cautious—he turned and tossed in sleepless nights, never daring to be careless.”

“Those were his very words.”

“In recent years—especially in the earlier years—he had kept a close watch on his son’s conduct, fearing the boy would make a misstep.”

“But upon seeing his son gradually mature, he finally let go two years ago and allowed him to take up the mantle.”

Within the young Daoist’s heart, it felt as though something vast and heavy had fallen upon it, making it struggle to beat. He exhaled slowly. The little peacock beside him pecked at a tea pastry—too hard, it made a crisp, clear sound. That sound was like the rain that had once saved his life, now echoing once again in his ears. Lord Lingmiao paused for a breath, gazing at the young Daoist before him. Though he had weathered much in life, at this moment, his gaze held a trace of sympathy as he quietly said:

“And so… in the records of the Penglai Office, and in the scrolls of Heaven and the Earth Deities, the Dragon King of the Jing River is him.”

“The one you must sever,”

“Is Ao Liu.”