Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Zhang Fan let out a long breath, his body suddenly deflating like a punctured ball, and plopped down right on top of Lord Hongshan.

”Finally caught a live one,” Zhang Fan looked at his spoils beneath him, a tired face blossoming with a trace of a smile.

This battle was exhausting, yet the gains were tremendous—not only had the Fire Dragon Pill Sword advanced to the Great Success Technique, perfecting the Nine Dragon Divine Fire Shield, but he had also caught Yin Hu.

Last time at Luoxia Town, although he had defeated Hai Pig, in the end that damned thing actually swallowed itself up; to this day Zhang Fan didn’t even know if it lived or died.

But this time, it was different—the feeling under him was utterly real.

”Maybe I should just kill him.”

Zhang Fan mused aloud. Yin Hu was one of the Thirteen Zodiacs—a value beyond words. Yet if he fell into the hands of the Daoist Alliance and his family’s secret were uncovered, it would be too late for tears.

At this thought, murderous intent arose in Zhang Fan’s heart.

”Hm!?”

Just then, Zhang Fan’s brow twitched, unconsciously looking outside the building—a strange ripple quietly surged forth, enveloping the entire Yujing City.

...

At this moment, black clouds slowly parted, revealing a bright full moon.

”What a great fire has stained the blue sky—truly marvelous!”

Upon the Deserted Mountain, within Jue Miaoguan.

The dancing flames died down just then, and even the incense in the Observatory seemed overshadowed by the sky-staining blaze.

It was at this very moment that a gentle voice echoed, accompanying a slender figure stepping forth from the Observatory.

It was a young man. His features were handsome and well-defined, yet his face was deathly pale as if ill. His hands looked like withered bones, skin stretched over bone, and his hollow eyes were filled only with indifference and numbness.

The Observatory Master of the Perfect View, Mr. Nian.

For over a decade, he had been trapped in Yujing City, trapped on the Deserted Mountain, trapped within Jue Miaoguan... cut off from the sun. All because back then, he was defeated by Chu Chaoran—defeated by a single thought of his opponent’s.

Buzz...

Above Yujing City, the pale moonlight poured down, shining upon Mr. Nian’s sorrowful face.

His gaze unfocused, countless lights and shadows flickering—in that instant, he was once again back in that year.

That year, atop Zhenwu Mountain.

He finally stood before the number one figure among today’s Daoist Sects.

”All techniques are impermanent, but Mr. Nian... truly, the young outshine the old.”

Within Qingwei Palace, before the Pure Yang Hall.

Having hidden his identity for five years, Mr. Nian suddenly struck, sweeping across Zhenwu Mountain like no one under heaven could resist—three Celestial Masters, all unable to withstand him.

Such unrivaled might and peerless dominance drew eight hundred Daoists to surround Qingwei Palace.

That moment, the doors of Pure Yang Hall swung wide open. The old, white-bearded Daoist, looking as humble as a farmer, finally stepped out.

For such words as ’the young outshine the old’ to come from the mouth of Pure Yang Zhenren was already the highest praise in the world.

”The Wuwei Sect!”

All Zhenwu Mountain was on high alert, every gaze fixed upon that young Daoist.

Yet, in his eyes, only the zenith of the present era existed.

”Years ago, on the East Peak of Mount Tai, Zhenren cut off the path for the Three Corpses Daoist... I, a latecomer who follows the Wuwei teachings, wish to witness the Realm of Pure Yang Wuji.”

”You are arrogant!”

A thunderous shout exploded, like roaring thunder rolling, echoing before the Pure Yang Hall.

The farmer-like old Daoist raised a hand and pressed down gently, merely smiling before he spoke: ”Young man, shall we make a wager?”

”What wager?”

”Your Daoist name is Mr. Nian. Then I’ll wager with you on a thought. If you lose, you will go guard a certain place for me.”

”What place?”

”Yujing.”

”Alright!”

Buzz...

A gust of wind swept by. Before the Pure Yang Hall, a leaf from the great tree drifted slowly down.

In that instant, the world before Mr. Nian changed color abruptly—wind and cloud surged, thunder stirred fire from earth, and myriad phenomena turned to dust.

The whole world was desolate, as if only he remained. He witnessed boundless Demon Tribulation, saw endless Ends of Dharma.

Countless thoughts arose; in that doomsday, all spawned Demonic Aspects, entangling in the Red Dust, proclaimed as the ancestor, crowned as the supreme.

All techniques are impermanent, but Mr. Nian alone endures.

When myriad thoughts scatter, the End of Dharma descends.

When no thought arises, the greatest tribulation of cultivation manifests.

Hoo...

Mountain wind brushed by, fallen leaves drifted and swirled before Mr. Nian’s eyes, yet had not touched the ground.

Before him still stood the Pure Yang Hall. That old Daoist, rustic as a farmer, calmly waited there, seemingly motionless, his eyes full of compassion and pity.

With a thud, Mr. Nian fell to his knees. Henceforth his Primordial Spirit was shackled, his appearance withering toward emaciation.

”When no thought arises, that is the greatest obsession of a cultivator.”

On the Deserted Mountain, within Jue Miaoguan, Mr. Nian softly muttered, a hint of enlightenment shining in his eyes.

”To have no thought, yet remain perfectly lucid—this is truly the Realm of Pure Yang Wuji.”

That gamble all those years ago was silent as a whisper; none atop Zhenwu Mountain truly saw through it.

In a single breath, the outcome was decided: Chu Chaoran stood motionless, and Mr. Nian did not move either.

Yet no one knew that in that single breath, Mr. Nian had undergone the greatest tribulation of his entire cultivation.

Thoughts are the greatest enemy of cultivation—so long as thought exists, it consumes one’s vitality, until, in the end, the body collapses and the Primordial Spirit is lost.

Cultivation, after all, is meant to suppress the Consciousness, nourish the Primordial Spirit, until one reaches a state where no thought arises—this is the goal of all cultivators.

However, that very ”no thought,” is a demonic obstacle itself, breeding the greatest obsession in cultivation.

Chu Chaoran, a living Zhenren of this age, had ascended to the Realm of the Infinite; naturally, he glimpsed its profundity.

Absolute absence of thought is like dead stone or withered wood.

Only when there are no thoughts, yet clarity remains, does one follow the path of Nature, which is Pure Yang Wuji.

Just as ordinary people breathe—there is no prior thought to the action, nor conscious control. It simply flows naturally.