Chapter Seventy-Four: The Cultivator of Mount Lao

Chapter Seventy-Four: The Cultivators of Mount Lao

Chapter Eleven: In the Hidden Depths of the Capital Forest, The Pride of Success; The Seven Warring States Cast Chaos upon the Spring and Autumn (Part Four)

Upon hearing the voices, Ye Hua turned his head to see several men behind him, dressed as peddlers. “Hush—! How can you say such things? Be careful with your…” An older man quickly interrupted, glancing warily around as if to confirm no one was paying attention. He lowered his voice and continued, “The capital is crawling with spies from the Six Divisions of Northern Dawn. Should such words reach the wrong ears, beware your…” He made a slicing gesture across his throat with his hand.

The other man gave a nervous chuckle and said, “That can’t be, surely? I’ve only heard that the Clear Hall, which gathers the finest talents of the empire, and the Martial Hall of the capital are supposed to be the most formidable. I’d wager they’re almost as powerful as the Four Young Lords!”

Ye Hua listened intently, his heart stirred by the mention of the Six Divisions of Northern Dawn—a name he had heard before, though only vaguely. In the capital, with Emperor Hua Luo still in his youth, real power lay in the hands of the Empress Regent, while the Prince Regent, Lord Yuan, wielded authority. Beneath him, six great factions reigned, collectively known as the Six Divisions of Northern Dawn, or the Six Garrisons of Northern Xia. Their power in the capital was immense—unrivaled and unyielding.

Lost in thought, Ye Hua missed the rest of the merchants’ conversation. By the time he tuned in again, they had turned to discussing the prices of cloth and grain—hardly interesting. He sipped several cups of tea, paid his bill, and walked out onto the main road.

After traveling five or six miles, he found the shops growing ever more prosperous, the streets bustling with carriages and people jostling shoulder to shoulder. In the distance stood a massive city gate, with the words “Gate of Profound Virtue” carved above it. This was the northern gate of the capital, less frequented than the western or southern gates. Yet even here, a long line of travelers crowded the entrance.

Ye Hua entered the city with the flow of people. Inside, the streets were broad and teeming with life. He wandered aimlessly through the throngs for an hour or two, uncertain of his location, until he came upon an imposing mansion. Two great stone lions stood guard at the entrance, exuding power and majesty. Behind the high walls, ancient trees spread their lush canopies, and the buildings within gleamed with green-tiled eaves and painted beams, red pavilions and flying galleries.

Ye Hua thought to himself, “What noble family possesses such wealth and splendor?” Suddenly, a furious shout rang out from within the walls, followed by a burst of crimson light shooting into the sky and a wave of energy surging outward—intense, scorching heat. Startled, he thought, “A cultivator! Who could be fighting in the courtyard to cause such commotion?” He halted, listening carefully.

Inside, one man’s angry shouts echoed, while his opponent remained silent. Flashes of crimson and swirls of black mist flickered above the wall. Suddenly, a deafening explosion shook the grounds, drawing passersby to stop and stare. A streak of red light burst through the wall, shooting toward the crowd. From within came a panicked cry: “Look out!”

A burly man beside Ye Hua had been watching the scene with curiosity when the crimson light shot toward him. Before he could react, scorching heat seared his skin, paralyzing him with terror—he couldn’t move an inch.

In that instant, a hand reached out from beside him and caught the streak of red in its grasp. The light writhed and struggled, then stilled, revealing a blood-red miniature sword. The burly man stared in astonishment, turning to see a youth of sixteen or seventeen smiling at him.

For a long moment, the man stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had happened. The young man asked, “Are you unharmed, brother?” The man flushed red, then pale, stammering, “I… I…!” But before he could finish, five or six figures leaped over the wall. Spotting the blood-red sword in the youth’s hand, their eyes flickered with calculation. A handsome young man in pale yellow robes stepped forward, clasped his hands in greeting, and said with a smile, “Thank you for your intervention, brother. Had it not been for you, a life might have been lost. I am Zhang Ke. May I know your esteemed name?”

The youth holding the sword clasped his hands in return. “I am Ye Hua. I only acted in a moment of crisis—I hope you will not take offense.” With that, he released the sword, which trembled, transformed into a beam of light, and landed in the hand of a gaunt young man dressed as a monk. The monk glared coldly at Ye Hua, snorting in displeasure.

Zhang Ke, however, stepped forward with a smile. “How could we be offended? We’re deeply in your debt, Brother Ye!” Then he turned to the stunned burly man. “You must have been frightened, brother. Please accept this small token as recompense.” At his gesture, a servant stepped forward and pressed a pouch of silver into the man’s hand.

The burly man could hardly believe his luck—a windfall from the heavens! Grasping the silver, he turned to the young man with a wide, foolish grin, bowing repeatedly. “Thank you, thank you, young master!” With that, he beamed and dashed away at incredible speed, lest the young master change his mind.

Zhang Ke turned to Ye Hua and smiled. “Brother Ye, if you are not otherwise engaged, perhaps you would honor my humble abode with a visit. I would gladly introduce you to some fellow cultivators.”

Ye Hua paused, thinking, “I am new to the capital, a stranger here. It would do me good to make a few acquaintances. This Zhang Ke seems a man of honor; perhaps a friendship would be worthwhile.” He replied, “Very well, if you do not mind my imposition, I shall accept your invitation.”

Zhang Ke’s face lit up with delight. “Excellent! Brother Ye, please, come in!” He personally led the way, guiding Ye Hua into the mansion. Inside, tranquility reigned: small bridges over flowing streams, winding paths leading into secluded groves. After a hundred paces or so, they came upon a pavilion amidst rows of tall willows, with a stream at its entrance, spring in full bloom, flowers bursting in profusion, falling petals carpeting the ground, orioles singing and butterflies dancing. The winding corridors and stone steps, decked with orchids and jade, radiated elegance and charm. Ye Hua’s heart swelled with joy. “A veritable haven of celestial fragrance,” he thought. They circled to the front, where hundreds of ancient osmanthus trees stood in full bloom, their scent perfuming the entire estate. Following the group inside, Ye Hua entered the main hall and took his seat.

When two young attendants had finished burning incense and serving tea, Zhang Ke turned to Ye Hua with a smile. “Brother Ye, just now I saw you catch Fellow Daoist Gu’s flying sword with your bare hand, Buddhist light faintly visible. Might you be a disciple of the Buddhist sects?”

Ye Hua nodded. “Indeed, I am a disciple of the Wutai lineage, newly arrived in the capital. I hope I have not inconvenienced you all.”

With a laugh, Zhang Ke replied, “Nonsense, Brother Ye! Who would have thought you came from such a distinguished lineage? No wonder your spiritual power is so refined. Allow me to introduce you to a few of our fellow cultivators.”

He gestured to the monk. “This is Fellow Daoist Gu Yunqi, a top disciple of Master Zihui of Mount He and Wu in Yunnan and Guizhou. He was just sparring with Fellow Daoist Zhang Lan a moment ago and slipped up—if not for you, things might have ended badly!” The monk blushed and said, “My skills are lacking. If fate allows, I hope to learn from Brother Ye one day. Please offer me your guidance.”

There was a hint of challenge in his words, and it was understandable—after all, his flying sword had been caught bare-handed by someone seemingly his own age and cultivation. Who could easily accept such a thing?

Ye Hua rose and bowed to Gu Yunqi. “If I was rash just now, I beg Brother Gu’s pardon. As for offering guidance, I dare not presume.”

Zhang Ke, who clearly understood Gu Yunqi’s temperament, shook his head with a smile and said to Ye Hua, “No need to worry, Brother Ye. Fellow Gu is always like this. The longer you know him, the better you’ll understand—he means no harm.”

Ye Hua smiled in reply. “You are too considerate, Brother Zhang.” Zhang Ke then turned to a young woman in black silk. “This is Sister Zhang Lan, also from a renowned lineage, no less distinguished than yourself. She hails from the Supreme Clarity Palace of Mount Lao.”

Ye Hua straightened with respect at the mention of Mount Lao, famed as the abode of immortals and the seat of spiritual wonders. In its heyday, it boasted “nine palaces, eight temples, and seventy-two hermitages,” with over ten thousand cultivators on the mountain. The illustrious Taoist patriarch Qiu Changchun and the Northern Emperor Xuanwu once practiced there. It is renowned as “the foremost mountain on the sea,” towering over the eastern coast. As an old saying goes, “Though Mount Tai is high, it cannot compare to Mount Lao by the eastern sea.”

Ye Hua immediately saluted the young woman. “Greetings, Sister Zhang Lan!”