Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 240: Chapter 146: Master of the School of Non-action! Vision of Jiang He for Those of Profound Dao Power (5k Major Chapter)

Pine and cypress stand somber before the hall, apricots encircle the celestial altar, water winds around the corridor. Seeking the Way within mountains, where lies the merit? I knock and pray at the furnace, incense coils of Agarwood descend the True Fate.

There are three great thresholds in cultivation: Recovering Primordial Spirit, Lowering True Fate, Crossing the Calamity Tribulation.

This second threshold, [Lowering True Fate], is an obstacle one must surpass to advance to the [High Skill] rank.

Returning to Life by Lowering Truth—only with the help of [Agarwood], summoning the descent of the Celestials, and washing one’s Primordial Spirit through its baptism, can one achieve ultimate sublimation and attain the realm of those with supreme merit.

”It’s already been delivered? Hm? Something this important was just sent by courier? Isn’t that a bit too careless?”

Zhang Fan glanced at the battered box and immediately knew it had fallen victim to rough handling. He hurried to pick it up.

Just a while ago at the Jiangnan Province Daoist Alliance, he had eyed Ma Buting’s [Agarwood] with envy, thinking how today Ma could ascend to [High Skill] stage—and now, barely an hour later, his own [Agarwood] had arrived, too.

”Cash on delivery, thirty yuan, deducted from your salary,” Bai Buran said blandly.

”...”

”Is Zhenwu Mountain really that strapped for cash?” Zhang Fan shot him a look.

The dignified Zhenwu Mountain, one of the Ten Great Daoist Mountains beneath heaven, earns over five billion a year just from tourism. Not only did they courier [Agarwood]—but made it COD, too?

Is cultivation really such a penny-pinching business?

This is so ridiculous it’s cracking me up like an old lady burrowing into her duvet.

”Zhenwu Mountain’s finances are big, but you wouldn’t know the price of firewood and rice till you manage the household.” Bai Buran shot him a glance, speaking coolly.

”Fine, fine, deduct it, whatever.”

Zhang Fan grinned broadly, in great spirits. He knew well that true [Agarwood] is incredibly rare, requiring seventeen precious incense materials, and dozens more herbs aged to specific years. Each sect and school crafts it with their own secret methods.

In ancient times, true [Agarwood] brought immense benefits—even common folk could burn a single stick to ward off evil, dispel calamity, and cure illness. Such incense was a royal tribute for the emperor. Thus the poem goes: Crimson dew, perhaps, prolongs life’s wine; pale smoke, a longing to kindle Agarwood. Beyond five thousand words not a single phrase; else what words to gift the Martial Emperor?

This treasure can’t even be bought for money—why obsess over thirty yuan shipping?

”Boss, I’ve heard that if a cultivator lights the Agarwood, its rising smoke reaches the heavens and calls down the Celestials.” Zhang Fan couldn’t help but ask.

”Will I really get to see Immortal Gods?”

The tales of Immortal Gods are shrouded in mystery—even among cultivators, who has ever truly seen them?

Yet, since ancient times, hidden Immortals dwell above the heavens, so longevity lingers in this world. In temples and shrines incense perpetually ascends, and profound Dharma Lineages continue unbroken. And today’s cultivators, with Primordial Spirit awakened, gain strange abilities—nearly stepping into the rank of Immortal Gods, slowly hearing echoes of longevity’s fruit.

But all this remains as elusive as flowers in a mirror, the moon on water—so near one could almost grasp it, yet apart as heaven from earth.

It seems only by perfecting the Realm of Pure Yang Wuji can one truly glimpse the path of the Earthly Immortal.

This is why Zhang Fan asks—after all, Bai Buran has long since crossed this second threshold, [Lowering True Fate], and possesses great experience.

”Sincerity births spirit—those who behold, are as gods.” Bai Buran’s tone was serene and ethereal.

”My Daoist Sect is vast; with three parts cultivation, you’ll sense seven in return—if you cultivate ten, Heaven’s radiance will accompany you always.”

Bai Buran raised his hand reverently to the sky.

Zhang Fan pondered this, then unboxed the delivery to reveal a finely crafted wooden case inscribed boldly: Zhenwu Mountain Tourist Souvenir!

”...”

Zhang Fan squinted, unable to hold back: ”Couldn’t you at least use a proper box?”

It was obvious this was just one of those stray souvenir boxes pulled from the mountain’s tourist stock.

Way too careless!

”Frugality is a virtue—why bother with gaudy nonsense? Or do you want a box made of solid gold?” Boss Bai replied blandly.

”Too many pens for the failing student.”

”No, no need, really.”

With an awkward laugh, Zhang Fan opened the box. A single stick of incense, about three and one-third inches long, covered in cloud patterns, lay before him. There was absolutely no scent.

”How come it’s odorless?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

”The Great has no boundaries, vast vessels form late, profound sound is rarefied, the grand image is shapeless,” Bai Buran murmured in a measured tone.

The more beautiful the sound, the more silent it is; the finer the fragrance, the more faint and imperceptible its scent.

This, then, is the meaning of cultivation—creating being from nothingness, seeking emptiness within existence, refining the real from the illusory, transcending mundane senses.

Agarwood—it is named fragrance, yet is truly devoid of scent. Some even say its aroma can be perceived only by Celestial Breaths or Immortal Gods, thus they descend in response.

”Now, it’s yours,” Bai Buran waved his hand dismissively.

”Boss, how do I use this?” Zhang Fan pressed on.

”Light the incense, let the smoke reach Heaven, summon the descent of all Celestials.”

Bai Buran’s gaze narrowed to a fine line as he looked at Zhang Fan: ”You want to enter the [High Skill] rank!?”

”I want to try!”

Zhang Fan gripped the box with [Agarwood] tightly, a gleam flashing in his eyes.

”Overconfidence leads to disaster,” Bai Buran said gravely.

He knew full well that Zhang Fan was no ordinary man—to have climbed from [Qi Worker] rank through [Technique Apprentice], [Profound Master], and reached [Spirit Department] in just over three months was enough to astound anyone.

Precisely for this reason, Bai Buran insisted on warning him—haste makes waste. The [High Skill] level is unlike the previous four realms; burning incense to summon the Celestials and cleanse one’s Primordial Spirit is a fatal threshold. Many have stumbled and fallen right here.

Even the slightest shift or fluctuation in the Primordial Spirit spells life or death. To undergo such baptism and sublimation is no child’s play.

He’s seen too many—self-confident and composed, burning the incense in hopes of rising up, only to end up insane, idiotic, or dead by the hundreds.

”That’s why I want to ask you, Boss, to be my Guardian—I want to give it a try,” Zhang Fan said quietly but firmly.