Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Life—thus begins.

In truth, this is nature itself, this is the principle of the Dao.

The Dao hides within all that is seen and unseen.

If the actions, thoughts, and perceptions of ordinary men were like breathing—effortless, without thought, yet in complete accord with nature…

Then there would be no need for cultivation—they would have already entered the Dao.

For the Dao requires no cultivation; it abides in that Innate Primordial Spirit.

It is only that, in the end, we are but mortals, left with the most foolish path—cultivation.

Chu Chaoran, contemplating the Pure Yang Wuji Realm, at such a height as his, thought and thoughtlessness are one and the same.

For the Infinite is chaos—it contains all, whether light or shadow, good or evil.

Thus, at the rise of a single thought, endless Demon Tribulations are born.

The thought that arises in him is the greatest obsession for all cultivators.

”If not a single thought is born, I cannot break through this demonic barrier.” Mr. Nian murmured softly.

Such is the truth of all principles in the world—easy to know, hard to act upon. Knowing is one thing; being able to do is another.

Because of this, he remained trapped at Deserted Mountain for years, exhausting his life’s blood, yet unable to break the Tribulation.

Until, not long ago, he saw Zhang Fan, saw Jifeng Pavilion, saw so many people…

With only a single thought, he could affect these ordinary folk, alter the course of their lives, and thus, reshape their fates.

In this moment, Mr. Nian gained insight.

”Chu Chaoran, in the end, you are still human. As long as you are human, you are not invincible...”

”If I cannot break your thought, then let all beings do so...”

Mr. Nian murmured softly, but his previously hollow, numb eyes shone with unfamiliar life.

Rumble—

Mr. Nian stepped forward. The moment his foot landed on the threshold of Jue Miaoguan, a violent tremor spread out through the Daoist Temple.

It was as if an invisible force ground against his body; his withered frame flared with dazzling sparks.

At this time, under Primordial Spirit Observation one could see—a hazy membrane of light shrouded Jue Miaoguan, dreaming and illusory like a bubble, iridescent with mottled rays.

And with each step of Mr. Nian, that mistswept bubble gradually expanded—enveloping Jue Miaoguan, enveloping Deserted Mountain, and slowly, the whole of Yujing City.

Om—

The invisible bubble glinted with rainbow hues, ever shifting, a fantastic phantasmagoria.

In this instant, all living things within Yujing City—from the smallest mosquito or ant to humans and beasts—were submerged in a wondrous wave, their emotions surging wildly.

As beasts sense disaster’s approach, as women turn restless before their monthly affliction—

At this moment, thoughts danced; notions flashed alive.

In all, obsessions sprouted and swelled, invisible but immense.

Born within the Red Dust, as long as one is human, obsession is inescapable.

Lou Hechuan stood in the Jiangnan Province Daoist Alliance courtyard, as if glimpsing himself entering Shangjing, presiding over all the Daoist Alliance with power in his hands.

At Taoyuan Square, in Night is not bright, Yu Fu fed his fish, yet seemed to have returned to Chuanshu, back to that great river…

Jiang Hu, drinking in a bar, gazed at the crystalline liquor in his cup, as if seeing Maoshan…

...

In this instant, countless mortals beheld their obsessions, and in their minds, new thoughts were born.

In the derelict building, Fang Changle too sat dazed, lost to the present, new visions playing out in his eyes.

”Old Fang... Old Fang...” Zhang Fan called twice, but received not the slightest response.

His face turned somber, a vague unease rising within. He moved to the crumbling wall, looked outside the ruined building, cast out his Primordial Spirit Observation, and saw the massive ”bubble” shrouding Yujing City overhead…

At this time, numberless little bubbles rose ceaselessly from throughout Yujing City. These bubbles were of all sizes and hues. More and more, they flew ever higher…

Until at last, so many bubbles amassed that together they burst the great bubble.

Pop—

A subtle sound traced through Zhang Fan’s heart. His face changed abruptly and he looked instinctively toward Deserted Mountain.

An overwhelming aura surged skyward, enveloping all of Yujing City.

”How a blade the Red Dust can be!”

”The Tribulation is ended at last.”

Within Deserted Mountain, that fearsome youth—the one ranked among the world’s five foremost, the Vice Sect Leader of Wuwei Sect—at last shed his Tribulation. With a single step, he exited the cage-like Jue Miaoguan.

Whoosh—

Mr. Nian drew in a deep breath; the mountain air, incomparably sweet, seemed even to revitalize his withered, decayed body with life.

How long had it been since he’d tasted freedom’s flavor, since he’d remembered this sky, this earth, this tumult of mortal Red Dust?

”I will take my leave.”

Suddenly, without turning his head, Mr. Nian spoke as if to the air itself.

Amid desolate moonlight, a figure emerged from the forest shadow—it was Bai Buran.

”Have you come to bid me farewell, or to stop me?” Mr. Nian turned, the faintest smile at his lips, gazing at Bai Buran, half jocular, half solemn.

”If I were dead, could I stop you?” Bai Buran said coolly.

”You cannot,” Mr. Nian laughed softly.

”I know,” replied Bai Buran, silent once more.

”Seeing you…I recall those days on Zhenwu Mountain…” Mr. Nian said wistfully.

Bai Buran’s eyes grew grave as he looked at this half-teacher, half-friend; though a Great Demon now walked the world, his mood remained impossibly tangled.

”When next we meet, I’ll grant you thrice the chance to live—consider it the closure of our past favors.”

Bai Buran stood stupefied—in this moment, it was as if he’d returned to Zhenwu Mountain.

That night of falling snow, the two lingered on the mountain’s far side, speaking of the long road of cultivation, of wind and flowers and snow and moon.

Mr. Nian gazed at Bai Buran, and in those indifferent eyes, for once flickered a rare touch of gentleness.

”To speak of water-bamboo veiled in mist and rain, let these words be heard by snow and moon and wind and flower.”

Just then, Mr. Nian’s voice rang bright and clear; with a single leap, he vanished into the desolate mountains, gone beyond the boundless heavens and earth.