Volume 1: Embarking on the World of Mortals Chapter 120

The Eight Trigram Furnace, one of the Seven Treasures of the Daoist sect, floated suspended in the void. Beneath it, the [Six Ding Divine Fire], several times more potent than [Samādhi True Fire], blazed fiercely. The terrifying heat was enough to refine even immortals to death—yet at this moment, beneath the furnace, a refined Daoist in a blue-green robe embroidered with cloud-and-water patterns lounged lazily upon a meditation cushion, seemingly dozing.

Only one of the two young acolytes was present nearby.

He fanned the flames with a fan that resembled one made from banana leaves.

The other was stationed in the main hall of the Purple Palace Xuandu Temple.

Both were busy with their respective duties.

Only that refined Daoist remained idle and sluggish, appearing half-asleep, murmuring in a slow chant:

“The essence of the Five Elements is born of Heaven,

Yet through human effort, its mysteries may be grasped.

Heaven and Earth form the great furnace,

Where Yin and Yang cook and churn.”

“In my cauldron, water and fire both are fully stolen.”

“Ha! What a splendid cauldron of Grand Elixir!”

“This time is indeed fortuitous… though it cost me half a month, the elixir is finally complete.”

The Grandmaster Xuandu smiled as he rose, sensing that the five vital forces within the pill furnace had converged. The medicinal essence within had begun to surge—clear proof that this batch of pills was about to be successfully refined. He was about to instruct the young acolyte to collect the pills when suddenly, a voice rang out—before the boy guarding the front hall of the Purple Palace Xuandu Temple had even arrived, the voice already echoed through the air:

“Grandmaster! Grandmaster! Trouble! There’s trouble again!”

The Grandmaster Xuandu swept his horsetail whisk across with a flick and said calmly: “What now?”

“Why such panic?”

“Heh… trouble? I have always brought trouble upon others—who in this world could bring trouble upon me?”

The young Daoist boy, dressed in blue with handsome features, was panting hard, his face flushed red. He first offered a respectful salute, then turned and pointed toward the great hall: “It’s the jade plaque above the main hall—there’s been a change in the name again, just like last time. I don’t know if it means something has happened again…” Before he finished speaking, the refined Daoist had already vanished without a trace, leaving the two young boys dumbfounded, staring at one another in astonishment.

They quickly scrambled to follow.

By the jade plaque, the Daoist had already somehow appeared.

With a sweep of his whisk, the several attendant strongmen withdrew. He strode forward, phoenix-like eyes fixed on the plaque. There, the characters [Xuanwei] began to shimmer with flowing light. The aura it released was sharp and pure. He could not help but clap his hands and exclaim: “Good! Excellent indeed! No wonder Master favored him. His name only appeared on this jade plaque just over a year ago, and he’s already made a breakthrough…”

“It seems his coming to this Xuandu Temple to meet me is now only a matter of time.”

“Hm? But this aura… what a pity, what a pity.”

“So it’s merely at the level of Innate One Qi?”

Grandmaster Xuandu looked surprised. Then, as he saw the characters Xuanwei on the jade plaque radiating waves of thick and profound energy, he lifted his finger and gently brushed over the name. Raising his brows slightly, he said: “Interesting. He’s entered the [Eight Tribulations], and it doesn’t seem like a common Eight Tribulations either. Why does this boy’s tribulation carry such intense [Calamity] Qi?”

The two young Daoist boys had just arrived.

Hearing this, they looked at each other in astonishment.

First of all, it was well known that only True Persons would encounter the Eight Tribulations.

If one could overcome them, there was hope of reaching the realm of Earth Immortals or even beyond.

If not, one could at most accumulate Dao attainments and, with the celestial decree of the Heavenly Emperor, become a Human Immortal.

Yet this Uncle Master Xuanwei seemed only to be at the level of Innate One Qi—not even as advanced as they were.

How had he already encountered the Eight Tribulations?

Second, how could the Eight Tribulations of a cultivator emit [Calamity] Qi?

The character Calamity (劫) was not something one could use lightly.

For a moment, both boys were bewildered. The one on the left stepped forward and respectfully asked, with a trace of concern in his voice: “Grandmaster, you say Uncle Master Xuanwei is facing the Eight Tribulations—but isn’t there a method to [avoid disaster and evade calamity]? For Uncle Master Xuanwei, it shouldn’t be too great a problem… right?”

Grandmaster Xuandu seemed in fine spirits. Hearing this, he chuckled faintly: “Foolish child—what do you know of such things?”

“The Eight Tribulations are trials all cultivators must pass through. There are two ways to face them. One is to possess a true transmission, with clarity and sharpness of spirit, able to sense in advance the coming of one’s tribulations. Then one may take measures to avoid them—this is the method of [evading calamity], like those adept in clairvoyance and divine hearing; they are old hands in this art.”

“Of course, even if one senses the calamity ahead, whether it can be avoided still depends on one’s means.”

“The other case is when one’s spirit is murky, and the cultivator stumbles into the tribulation without even knowing it—like a falling leaf adrift in a stream, swept along by the current. If luck holds, one might awaken afterward and turn back onto the path. If not, one becomes ensnared in the calamity, and the spirit remains clouded. Though one’s life may not end, the Great Dao will forever be out of reach.”

“The Eight Tribulations of the Daoist Gate are not the same as the Three Disasters.”

“They damage the Dao, but they do not destroy the person.”

The boy asked curiously: “Then, is Uncle Master Xuanwei one of the second kind?”

Grandmaster Xuandu replied: “No.”

The refined Daoist lifted a hand and briefly calculated with his fingers. A look of surprise crossed his face, followed by a tone full of admiration:

“He sensed his tribulation clearly, yet chose neither to retreat nor evade—it was he himself who stepped forward to face the calamity head-on.”

“He is awakened.”

“Only such a person can be my junior brother.”

“Marvelous, marvelous! Hahaha! With such a foundation—dreaming one Dream of Yellow Millet to forge the Primordial Spirit, turning the cycle of sun and moon to refine the Primordial Qi, using just a dou and a sheng of Yellow Sprout to replenish his Primordial Essence, and walking into Innate One Qi by the path of Wuji—this is non-action. Yet stepping into calamity by his own will—this is action. Between action and non-action lies the Way.”

“Hahaha—he is truly my junior brother!”

The two Daoist boys could not help but be shocked.

Previously, even the Supreme(Taishang) Patriarch himself had accepted disciples, but Grandmaster Xuandu had always remained rather aloof. That time he had gone over to the Three Masters of the Shangqing lineage to chat and sip tea seemed only for the sake of maintaining the reputation of the Taishang Lineage. Yet never once had he shown such appreciation for any one disciple—never once had he uttered such words as: [He is truly my junior brother.]

This refined Daoist had just now been clapping in delight, thoroughly admiring the matter—when suddenly he exclaimed: “This is bad!”

“He entered the tribulation of his own accord, seeking to shatter it from within. Though it may not have been his original intent, he has already aligned himself with that [Dao of Annihilating Calamity] that Uncle Shangqing teaches. Wait a moment…”

“Why is my junior brother also cultivating the Sword Dao?!”

As soon as these words left his lips, Grandmaster Xuandu’s expression changed.

With a sweep of his horsetail whisk, he called out: “Child, bring me the Supreme Boundless Majestic Mountain-Shifting Seal!”

The young attendant gawked in disbelief. “Grandmaster, the pill furnace—”

“Go at once!” Grandmaster Xuandu barked.

“You—go fetch my Golden Rope That Binds Immortals!”

“Grandmaster, the pill furnace—”

“And the Demon-Suppressing Golden Brick! Bring it too!”

“Also get me the Vajra Armlet of the Azure Ox!”

With a flick of his sleeve, Grandmaster Xuandu seized his arsenal of treasures. He chuckled coldly and said: “This time, I’ll keep a few handy weapons by my side. If the Three Masters of Shangqing dare move again, I’ll shift three mountains over in an instant and block their front gate outright—let’s see what they do then. Those three merely teach disciples—I, on the other hand, have tempered myself across the myriad realms. I’ve led the Heavenly Army, slain demons and devils alike. A fight, is it? Who’s afraid of who?”

In no time, the various magical treasures were all delivered into his hands. Just then, another young attendant came running in, wailing in distress: “Grandmaster! Grandmaster!”

“Disaster! Disaster!”

“That whole furnace of pills exploded again!”

Grandmaster Xuandu opened his mouth, speechless.

At this moment, the two characters Xuanwei seemed particularly irksome to his eyes—truly, undeniably—

“A calamity…”

The Grandmaster clutched at his heart in anguish:

“Your senior brother’s pills!!”

On the second day after Qi Wuhuo left the village, another horse-drawn carriage arrived—this one even more lavishly adorned. The tall, magnificent horses were all of the same height, their black coats sleek like satin. The carriage itself gleamed with extravagant ornamentation, and both front and rear were flanked by riders. Though these riders wore only plain martial attire, they sat upright, backs straight like they were clad in armor. Their eyes flashed like lightning, exuding an overwhelming air of intimidation.

The villagers were all frightened.

Though many stepped out to see what the commotion was, not a single one dared to come too close—faces filled with unease and fear.

This group had come in search of that old cripple.

How strange.

No one had cared about him when he was alive, but now, after death, people came seeking him one after another. The horses pulling the carriage halted at the base of the mountain. From within stepped a pale young man dressed in black, his features delicate like a woman’s. He seemed in poor health, often coughing, and had to be supported as he walked toward the old man’s burial site. After seemingly confirming the spot, he lowered his eyes and said softly:

“Dig it up.”

“Yes!”

The village head froze. He pushed past the crowd and stormed forward, shouting in anger: “What are you doing?!”

“Digging up a grave?!”

“Who are you people?! Is there no law, no justice left in the world?!”

“Get out!”

“If you don’t, I’ll—!”

With a casual wave of the young man’s hand, one of the riders unsheathed his whip and lashed it through the air with a sharp, ear-piercing crack. The sound alone made one’s scalp tingle. The whip struck the earth right in front of the old village head—its force carving open a deep gouge. Then, with a flick, the qi embedded in the strike sent the elder flying, his back slamming hard against the ground.

For a moment, the village head’s mind went blank. Pain surged through his entire body, as though his very bones had shattered.

He couldn’t even move. Every attempt to shift sent stabbing pain through his limbs, as if shards of bone were piercing into his flesh.

The pale youth said indifferently: “And a mere commoner dares speak of ‘law’?”

“Open the coffin.”

The villagers clustered around the old village head, yet though they seethed in silence, none dared speak a word against what the youth intended.

Like wolves and tigers, the riders moved as one. In a short time, the old man’s grave was unearthed, his coffin lifted and pried open. The youth in luxurious robes stepped forward a few paces, leaned over, and gazed upon the old man’s face. With eyes lowered slightly, he murmured: “So he truly is dead.”

“Lived seven more years, perhaps he passed with no regrets.”

He then picked up the badge at the old man’s waist—a token of loyalty and valor.

The contents of the will he left behind were reviewed—just a few simple instructions. Not a single detail revealed.

The youth had spies in the city. He knew well how the old man had spent the last seven years in this village.

Back in the army, the man had been the type with an easy-going nature, many friends, rarely ever lost his temper. But after coming to this village, perhaps because of his crippled leg, he had become irritable and prone to cursing. He hadn’t gotten along with a single person in the village.

No one liked him.

The will was written the same way—plain, without revealing anything. As expected, the events of those years had not been mentioned.

The youth toyed with the ring on his thumb, his expression calm.

“Deliberately put on a foul temper. Kept everyone at a distance.”

“Was it to protect the village after his death?”

“After all, if he had grown close to someone here, then our house would’ve had to worry about what he might have said.”

“And back then, with the emperor’s boundless grace, even if we didn’t want to, we’d have had to silence him.”

He let out a sigh and said:

“Not all survivors from the battlefield are brainless brutes, after all.”

The truth was, among the six hundred thousand Xuan Armor Army troops back then, one unit had mutinied. It ultimately led to chaos and infighting in the garrisoned city, with seventy percent of that force either dead or wounded. They were accused of violating military orders and thrown into the Jinzhou front.

If not for their commander risking his life to shield his soldiers, these broken remnants wouldn’t have lived to see today. The Sage Emperor had just ascended the throne and was desperate to maintain stability. That commander had fought the demon kingdom for half his life and was a pillar of the nation. Besides, though that [incident] had been accomplished, it had already stirred discontent among the noble houses—especially the Five Surnames and Seven Clans.

So they were left alive, but disarmed and sent home to till the fields.

Now, seeing that this man was truly dead, the youth finally felt a lingering unease lift from his heart.

“Saves us the trouble.”

“No need to ‘send him off.’”

The youth glanced around and asked: “Didn’t he still have a sword?”

“Most likely sold it to buy wine.”

“I see.”

“Well then, he really is gone, completely.”

His voice was quiet, slightly high and soft, unlike a man’s. After speaking, he coughed a few times, covering his mouth with a silk handkerchief.

He gave a small, casual wave of his hand and murmured: “[Died for the country. Loyal to the throne].”

“To be buried on a mountainside—far too meager.”

“Choose another place.”

“Give him a proper burial.”

The others all cupped their fists in agreement.

As he passed the old village head, he gave a slight nod and said mildly: “An old acquaintance from the army. No matter what, we had to take a look.”

He reached into his robes and brought something out.

Opened his palm.

Several silver ingots fell from his hand, scattering across the dirt in front of the old man.

With a light, almost indifferent tone, he said:

“Forgive the offense earlier.”

“These silver ingots—consider them a reward.”

“Take them.”