Upon the precipice of Difei Mountain’s highest peak, carved smooth as a jade tablet by the ages, stood the Ancestral Hall of the Glorious Hua Yang Palace.

A short distance from the Hall, where the palace’s first founder once dwelled in a simple hut, studying ancient tomes, a sprawling manor had gradually arisen. Passed down through generations to the current Palace Lord, Gao Gu, it became a tradition: “To the worthy belongs the right, to inherit the sacred lineage.” Whosoever held the title of Palace Lord could relocate their entire family to this estate, making it both a sacred place and a home. When Gao Gu ascended, he left his old abode and took possession of this estate, but as he had neither wife nor child, the place remained eerily desolate.

Yet no matter how the manor expanded, or how many masters came and went, it was never usurped. In the place of honor stood the Hall of Ten Thousand Scrolls, a library holding countless spiritual texts and arcane secrets, its plaque proclaiming “A Spectacle Under Heaven” – no idle boast, indeed.

It was here that Mao Zhui, a young initiate, was brought by Gao Gu to serve as a gatekeeper.

A flash of sword light, and an elegant figure alighted gracefully upon the grounds, the chime of the returning blade echoing like a songbird’s call.

It was Nan Qiang, the newly ascended Sword Immortal, leader of the Hua Yang Palace’s lineage of the blade.

Yin Xian, his face beaming with joy, offered a respectful bow of congratulations. For now their order was blessed with a Great Sword Immortal in their midst.

Nan Qiang returned the greeting with a graceful bow of her own. While Yin Xian’s obeisance was precise and proper, the female cultivator’s was infused with effortless ease.

Nan Qiang first addressed Mao Zhui as “Daoist White Bone,” then, after a moment’s hesitation, as “Palace Lord.”

Mao Zhui paid it no mind.

Throughout Difei Mountain’s storied past, it had produced a host of extraordinary individuals and transcendent masters. The Ancestral Hall was filled with portraits of Heavenly Sovereigns, yet only a few could be truly called Sword Immortals. Nan Qiang’s successful breakthrough during this tumultuous era was more than just a boon to the order’s strength. While the news would be pleasing to hear, what mattered more was that Nan Qiang had helped the Hua Yang Palace secure a favorable omen in this new age, showing that their fortunes were not irrevocably shaken by their master’s passing.

Mao Zhui’s thoughts, perhaps, were shaped by his time spent amongst the common folk.

The sight of the female cultivator Nan Qiang commanding her sword was, of course, commonplace to the mountain’s cultivators.

A mere glimpse of the mundane here would be the stuff of legends in the world beyond, rife with the mystical and arcane.

Following the gazes of Palace Lord Mao and Heavenly Sovereign Yin, Nan Qiang gave a casual glance towards the mountain path. She paid it no mind, however, and with an inquisitive air, she asked, “Is there any word as to when Sword Immortal Nie will be visiting the Hua Yang Palace?”

Mao Zhui shook his head.

Nie Bixia, the wandering immortal, was likely still traveling through the wildlands with Zhang Fenghai, laying the foundations of their own sect.

Yin Xian, however, spoke with some urgency, “Advancing from Jade Purity to Immortal is no small feat. The Shoushan Pavilion assisted greatly during your closed-door cultivation, forming both debt and bond, Nan Guan Zhu. Do not take it lightly. I still have a few jars of aged Immortal wine that I can present. Master Chu acquired them during his early travels from an ancient immortal’s relic site. There is a finite supply. Offer it to your esteemed guest.”

“There’s no need to waste Heavenly Sovereign Yin’s wine. My friend from beyond the mountain has a peculiar aversion to spirits,” Nan Qiang quickly interjected with a smile, “I only asked because he has long admired Sword Immortal Nie and has been waiting here, conveniently helping me with my cultivation.”

Mao Zhui chuckled. The young immortal, who was bound for great things, had a hidden desire. The problem lay in Nan Qiang’s lack of perception, for she remained oblivious to the affection she had inspired.

Nie Bixia of Yan Province was a free-spirited, elusive sword immortal, yet her vital lamp remained burning within the Hua Yang Palace.

For three millennia, there had been no word, and it was only by this lamp that the outside world could be certain Nie Bixia had not passed on.

Then, during the latest assessment, Nie Bixia rose to the top ten candidates, causing the mountain to grow curious. Was it possible Nie Bixia had been hiding within a temple on Difei Mountain, secretly seeking a path to unification?

Rumors, unverifiable and whispered, spoke of mutual affection between Nie Bixia and Gao Gu during their cultivation, a love unfulfilled.

Yet even without being lovers, their lives had been intertwined, and thus Nie Bixia entrusted her vital lamp to Gao Gu’s Hua Yang Palace.

Upon the mountain path, a young boy wiped his lips, looking longingly, and with a thick local accent said, “Sister, I heard the fish in these mountain ponds and the bamboo shoots along the path are beyond compare. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water. I wonder if this arduous climb will grant us a taste of such delicacies.”

The veiled woman, adorned with a delicate ornament at her waist, chuckled softly, “Glutton!”

The noble young man of the Yang clan surveyed the scene with a curious gaze.

The mountain’s Taoists ventured into the hills to gather winter bamboo shoots. After the spring thaw, bamboo shoots, as if seeking revenge, rise above the earth, armored and ready to fight.

The Daoists triumph, stripping the shells like armor. The bamboo flesh, white as snow, is tender and delectable, braised in a pot with salted meat. This dish is so exquisite that words fail. Diners are left with shame and a ceaseless appetite.

Nan Qiang’s eyes rested upon the veiled woman on the mountain path, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “They say the Yang clan of Hongnong’s methods of concealing one’s fate are unparalleled. I have just broken through. Perhaps I should test their defenses?”

Yin Xian cautioned, “Guanzhu Nan, such an act would be unseemly.”

This group of aristocratic youths would undoubtedly be protected by masters hidden from view.

Nan Qiang smiled mischievously, as if she had not abandoned her plan. Apart from her current state, she also possessed an innate, ancient skill capable of piercing veils. What was the harm in looking?

The world knew the Yang clan of Hongnong had produced a woman so beautiful, so enchanting, that even the mountain’s cultivators considered her peerless. Suitors had trampled their way through her door.

Whispers, growing ever more fanciful, spoke of a wandering master skilled in physiognomy who had foreseen her destiny: to become empress, to rule from behind the throne, and ultimately to reign in her own right. If this were true, woe to the man who took her as wife! Her fate was one of unparalleled earthly riches. What about her husband? And the families?

The rumors ran wild, painting her as the most beautiful woman of all time, as if every man under heaven was awaiting her ascendance.

Nan Qiang dismissed the rumors. She did not believe such a thing could be.

Mao Zhui, however, knew it to be true – it was likely the work of Zouzi, the philosopher.

As for the woman’s actual beauty, Mao Zhui, being little more than a walking skeleton, cared not for the matter.

For cultivators, was not “eternal life” the greatest beauty of all?

“To hear the Tao in the morning, and die content in the evening.”

Glimpsing the Tao was like a fleeting bloom.

Nan Qiang suspected the woman, so lauded as “stealing the essence of heaven and earth, vying with ten thousand spirits for color,” was hidden amongst the travelers.

As if reading her thoughts, Mao Zhui said plainly, “Though others know not, there is always self-awareness.”

Seeing that the Palace Lord had pointed out her folly, Nan Qiang relented.

When engaging with Mao Zhui, the immediate impression was of a young Taoist, broad and tall. To speak with him at close range was somewhat daunting.

The eye could discern in a single glance if one was “them” or “us.”

Ancestor Gao Gu was too ethereal, capable of inspiring shame even in the hearts of cultivators.

Taoist Mao Zhui, however, was too grounded.

Yin Xian sighed in relief when Nan Qiang abandoned her endeavor. The Sword Immortal leading the Da Mu Guan was too “free,” and even the grand master was hesitant to allow her to descend the mountain too often.

Their master did not manage everyday tasks, but he ordered Yin Xian to report to him when Nan Qiang traveled or Gao Fu discussed theories.

Nan Qiang took stock of the courtyard, for she did not come here often. This was Ancestor Gao’s private sanctuary, a place close to forbidden. Like most Difei Mountain officials, she saw Ancestor Gao as a god.

Gao Gu seemed to be the highest peak of Difei Mountain. Wherever Gao Gu was, that was the mountaintop.

The snow-white walls were low, similar to normal town manors. Several peony bushes were planted inside, with hundreds of flowers in full bloom.

Nearby was a pavilion for fish-watching that was personally built by Gao Gu.

The famous Taoist enjoyed watching fish swim.

It was as if he had too few friends.

The pines and cypresses were ancient, with scales of dragons. The pool was clear with fish.

According to story, the host would catch fish for his visitors.

From a small, remote kingdom, Gao Gu was a normal fisherman.

When Gao Gu took time off, he did it during blizzards, a boat as his cloak.

Perhaps because the Taoists spent their days in the mountains refining and nurturing, the people of Hua Yang Palace were calm about Gao Gu’s passing.

She did not feel pain, but some sorrow.

She always thought Gao Gu should live ten thousand years.

After he was gone, they realized that they never knew him.

They revered Gao Gu too much. They thought that he was always pure and rarely smiled.

Whenever Gao Gu attended meetings, it became cold.

Yin Xian thought about a small, old event.

Several young Taoists snuck out of the temple at night. They liked the vegetable garden of one of the masters. They stole cucumbers and potatoes before encountering Gao Gu. There was an awkward moment before one of the kids invited Gao Gu to join, to not be caught.

In the night, the fire reflected the eyes of the kids. It was as if they were saying not to tell the master.

The Taoist was like a fire.

Mao Zhui thought about old times.

Gao Gu’s fellow disciples were sword cultivators.

Three millennia ago, the Vast World was facing war, as was Qingming. The Pure White Jade Palace had to defeat an immortal. Gao Gu and his disciples wanted to join.

Gao Gu admired Yu Dou.

Because of Yu Dou, Gao Gu wanted to join.

On Difei Mountain, a group stopped by a Taoist site.

In Yingchuan, a senior, Chang Bo, and a young man, Chen Cong, swept the floor in the dark.

An ancient state collapsed into a lake, and an immortal appeared.

A Taoist, wearing a lotus crown, said, “If I do not allow it, you cannot do it.”

—

Three villages surrounded by mountains.

Liu Xiang said that he would go to the village school. Ning Ji said that he had the keys. Zhao Shuxia said that he would cook. Zhao Shuxia apologized. Liu Xiang nodded.

Looking at the back of the martial artist, Liu Xiang said, “He is flexible.”

Zheng Jizhong said, “He has seen things.”

Liu Xiang said, “The problem with Confucianism is that they do not talk about people.”

Zheng Jizhong said nothing.

Liu Xiang said, “Are you saying that I am ungrateful?”

Zheng Jizhong said, “Since it is your problem, it is Confucianism’s problem. Where does the sage not talk about people?”

Liu Xiang changed the subject. “What about Mount Tiandu?”

Zheng Jizhong nodded. “When the Blessed Land took root, it was over. Lu Shen gave up.”

Liu Xiang joked, “Putting the cart before the horse.”

Zheng Jizhong shook his head. “It was only a Blessed Land, not a Cave. Cultivators must look for a chance. You cannot be counted out.”

Liu Xiang laughed. “The Lu clan planned this for a long time, but Lu Shen must have bad luck.”

Zheng Jizhong said, “He failed to recognize people.”

Liu Xiang said, “Lu Wei was the best candidate, and Lu Shen could not enter. But nothing went wrong with Lu Shen’s selection.”

Lu Shen was held back by Zou Zi.

Zheng Jizhong shook his head. “He still underestimated Zou Zi.”

Liu Xiang said, “What do you think of Lu Shen?”

Zheng Jizhong said, “Not bad.”

Liu Xiang laughed.

Last time, Chen Ping’an discussed this.

Liu Xiang asked, “Why do sword cultivators not hate Chen Qingdu?”

Zheng Jizhong said, “They dare not.”

Mi Yu invited those to the Changchun palace.

In Sword City, this did not happen.

Many died.

Mi Yu did not know about this.

Liu Xiang hesitated and said, “Huang Zhen is not someone to offend. He is a pure sword cultivator, and he has an encounter.”

Even Liu Xiang had to repeat that fact.

Liu Xiang did have private desires.

In this situation, Liu Xiang thought that it would be best if they never met each other. It was a good thing that Huang Zhen and Chen Ping’an were separated. But Huang Zhen was obsessed.

Zheng Jizhong said, “I will be careful.”

Liu Xiang said nothing.

Beating a fourteenth realm isn’t hard, but killing one is. And completely destroying a fourteenth realm is hard to imagine.

Ning Ji heard.

Ning Ji felt that Liu Xiang was ancient, while Zheng Jizhong was a teacher.

Zheng Jizhong said, “Don’t just read. Reading can be good or bad. Books should be helpful.”

Ning Ji nodded.

Walking to the village, Liu Xiang saw a sweet osmanthus.

Liu Xiang asked, “After reading, what do you want to do?”

Ning Ji was embarrassed and whispered, “My seniors told me to take the tests.”

Liu Xiang smiled. “What do you think, Zheng Shen?”

Zheng Jizhong looked at the osmanthus and nodded.

All of life is a test.

The flower is good. The moon is good. May you all succeed.