Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 61: Chapter 61: Jiang Hu’s Great Sin, Teaching You Cultivation

He who can merge all things into one is the True King of the Great Dao.

Zhang Fan mulled over these words, savoring their meaning.

Along the way, Zhang Fan had heard quite a lot from Jiang Hu about talismans, and even refining and drawing the simplest One Character Talisman took a great deal of time and effort.

As for the Hundred Character Talisman, its power was truly immense, mysterious to gods and ghosts alike—compared to the Northern Emperor Technique, or the Five Thunders Righteous Method, such Great Skills were at best equal to it, if not inferior.

If one could master the Profound Mirror Treasure Talisman, would it truly be possible to condense ten thousand talismans into one?

What kind of spectacle would that be?

What kind of power would that represent?

”That is Pure Yang... that is Infinite...” There was a fervent gleam in Jiang Hu’s eyes as he murmured in a low voice.

Since ancient times, cultivators have been as numerous as fish crossing the river, yet those who have truly attained longevity and become Immortals are but a handful.

Only those who could comprehend the Pure Yang Wuji Realm could truly catch a glimpse of the hope of immortality; as for the rest, they are no more than blind men groping through the night, never to see a glimmer of light.

Because of this, as talisman masters, no one could remain unmoved by the Shen Family’s mad yet magnificent idea.

To merge ten thousand talismans into one’s body and step into the Pure Yang Wuji Realm.

”Jiang Hu, you’re still in Jiangnan Province.”

Just then, a languid voice sounded from behind, tinged with indifference.

Zhang Fan turned to look, and saw a young Daoist approaching, garbed in a Daoist robe, a backpack on his shoulders, with a gourd hanging from it.

”Senior Brother Qi Ji!?”

Jiang Hu froze for a moment, then recognized him.

”You were already expelled from Maoshan. I am no longer your senior brother,” Qi Ji replied, shaking his head.

”Maoshan Shangqing Sect!?”

Zhang Fan’s eyes narrowed as he couldn’t help but glance at Jiang Hu.

Only now did he realize where Jiang Hu’s deep mastery of talisman Dao came from—he was from one of the Three Mountains of Talisman, Maoshan Shangqing Sect, a renowned sect among the Ten Great Taoist Sects.

”A prestigious sect indeed!” Zhang Fan thought to himself.

Maoshan’s renown was in no wise less than that of Zhenwu Mountain, especially as, in earlier years, television dramas had rendered Maoshan Taoist Skill as something wondrous, bestowing upon it a halo of myth.

”Why are you here?” Qi Ji stared icily at Jiang Hu.

”Years ago you committed a great crime. If not for the mercy of our elders, your primordial spirit should have been destroyed. Just banishing you from the sect was already the ancestral master’s compassion!”

”And yet you remain in the Daoist world, lingering in Jiangnan Province?”

”To have your primordial spirit destroyed!?”

Zhang Fan’s expression shifted; he was startled. In the Daoist Sect, such a punishment was deemed an inversion of all law, one reserved for truly heinous crimes.

Jiang Hu remained silent.

”That’s enough—who the hell are you?”

Zhang Fan sensed something was off and positioned himself protectively before Jiang Hu.

”And who are you?” Qi Ji raised an eyebrow and looked Jiang Hu over.

”Eyes under your brows, but only good for blinking, not for seeing anything!” Zhang Fan shot back with a sideways glance.

”I’m a person!”

”...”

”You just met him, didn’t you?” Qi Ji went quiet briefly, then said flatly.

”Is there a problem?”

”You know nothing of his past.”

”What, he dug up your ancestral tomb?” Zhang Fan blurted out.

”He...”

”Enough.”

At that moment, a pleasant voice came from afar, interrupting their exchange.

Shen Qingli approached from the distance, her gaze passing over Qi Ji and Jiang Hu, finally settling on Zhang Fan.

”Qingli, long time no see,” Qi Ji greeted.

”Qi Ji, it’s rare that you’ve come down from the mountain. As a guest from afar, stay here a few more days.”

As she spoke, a man in a suit came forward, took Qi Ji’s luggage, and gestured for him to follow.

Qi Ji remained silent, casting a cold, disdainful glance at Jiang Hu, his eyes full of open arrogance and contempt, then followed the man in the suit away.

”Jiang Hu...” Shen Qingli looked at him, her delicate brows knitted with concern.

”I’ll go unload the cargo.”

Jiang Hu turned and walked toward the Five Spirits Rainbow Light.

”I’ll help you!” Zhang Fan stepped forward.

”I’ll do it myself.”

Without turning back, Jiang Hu quickened his steps.

”Jiang Hu!” Zhang Fan called out.

”Let him be.”

Shen Qingli came over, watching Jiang Hu’s distant figure. Her eyes harbored a trace of loneliness.

”You’re Zhang Fan?” Shen Qingli looked at him.

”Jiang Hu mentioned you to me.”

”You and Jiang Hu...”

”The Shen Family often does business with Maoshan. When I was young, I frequently went up the mountain—that’s when I got to know him, and Qi Ji as well.” Shen Qingli sighed wistfully, nostalgia rippling in her beautiful eyes.

”That man just now, is he Jiang Hu’s fellow disciple? Why are things like that?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

”To be fair, you can’t really blame Qi Ji.” Shen Qingli shook her head, her eyes growing dim.

”Jiang Hu really did commit a grave crime.”

At these words, Zhang Fan frowned, his expression troubled. Since arriving in Night is not bright, he’d grown closest to Jiang Hu and liked the man’s temperament.

Zhang Fan simply couldn’t imagine what gravest sin Jiang Hu could have committed.

”Jiang Hu and Qi Ji both cultivated on the mountain since childhood...”

”They all apprenticed under Master Qingyang, who is the sect leader’s junior at today’s Maoshan—his Dao Practice was immensely deep, and he specialized in talismanic arts,” Shen Qingli said quietly, voice solemn.

The first five years after entering the sect were spent in stillness and cultivation, tending and reflecting upon the primordial spirit. Only after that could one begin to study and comprehend the talismanic path.

At that time, Jiang Hu was twelve, and the distance between him and Qi Ji gradually widened.

Qi Ji displayed outstanding talent from a young age, especially in talismanic arts—he seemed to understand one thing by analogy to everything else.

By contrast, Jiang Hu was unremarkable, showing not a whit of talent; even the simplest Qi Passage Talisman, which treats constipation, took him over two months to grasp.

Because of this, Jiang Hu was often punished by the elders.

Fortunately, his lead senior who cared for him was a good man and treated Jiang Hu kindly.

His name was Sui Yuan. Every time Jiang Hu was punished to copy scriptures and missed mealtime, Senior Brother Sui Yuan always set aside two buns for him. If he was disciplined with the master’s ruler, it was always Sui Yuan who dressed his wounds at night.

Even in secret, Senior Brother Sui Yuan would sometimes tutor him personally in talisman drawing and the use of walking talismans.

Alas, Jiang Hu seemed completely without the slightest gift for talismanic arts.

”Life in the mountains is bitter; being a Daoist isn’t what ordinary people imagine...” Shen Qingli said ruefully.

At five in the morning, he had to be up for morning class—chanting scriptures, practicing skills, manual labor, evening lessons... by nine at night, it was lights out, no watching videos, no playing games...

Jiang Hu’s nature was always a bit unruly, and he was still young then. His cultivation couldn’t compare to the others, he was often punished, and he simply couldn’t endure it.

So he made up his mind to leave—to escape the sect and go down the mountain.

But just at that moment, he met someone—a person who changed his whole life.

”Who!?”

Hearing this, Zhang Fan couldn’t help but ask.

”A strange man. That’s exactly how he felt to Jiang Hu the first time they met...” Shen Qingli’s voice dropped low.

The moon was dark and the winds were high. That man blocked Jiang Hu’s path as he tried to sneak off the mountain. He wore an exceedingly large Daoist robe, as if he’d wrapped his whole body in it. His face was swathed in bandages, like someone badly wounded, with only a single eye exposed to the air.

The man called himself Wuqilu, a junior to Master Qingyang. Owing to his injuries, he had lived in seclusion on the back of the mountain for years and was rarely seen.

”Wuqilu... not only did he stop Jiang Hu, he insisted on personally instructing him in cultivation...”

”Hmm!?”

So his fateful encounter arrived?

”He said there was a hidden talent in Jiang Hu invisible to mortals, and what he taught was likewise Daoist skill beyond mundane reach.”

”That was a Maoshan secret, an ultimate technique not passed on to outsiders.” Shen Qingli’s voice took on a grave weight.

”What?” Zhang Fan asked instinctively.

”The Ten Thousand Talismans Condensing One Technique.”