Chapter Sixty: Three Things

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Zhuo Bufan was not the least bit surprised by Liang Yan’s answer. He nodded and said, “As long as the green hills remain, there is no fear of running out of firewood. Besides, Junior Brother Liang, your innate gift for formations is extraordinary. Perhaps the Pavilion Master will show you leniency in the future.”

Liang Yan bowed respectfully to Zhuo Bufan. “Thank you for pointing me in the right direction, Senior Brother. Please tell me the location of the gorge. When the Calligraphy Gathering is held, I will risk everything to try my luck.”

Zhuo Bufan waved his hand. “No rush. To enter the gorge, you must pass one of seven trials. Given your talent, you will no doubt choose the ‘Breaking Formations’ path. But if you wish to break the formation successfully, you’ll need three items.”

“Oh?” Liang Yan asked. “May I ask what they are?”

“They are Monkey Spirit Wine, Enchanting Incense, and the Heavenly Treasure Coin. With these three things, you can enter and break the formation; otherwise, it’s just empty talk.”

Liang Yan scratched his head. “I’ve never even heard of these, Senior Brother Zhuo. Would you enlighten me?”

“Of course,” Zhuo Bufan nodded. “The first, Monkey Spirit Wine, is brewed by a spirit beast called the Golden-Marked Spirit Monkey. It’s rich and aromatic, and replenishes spiritual energy for cultivators. The Golden-Marked Spirit Monkey isn’t particularly powerful—usually only at the fifth or sixth level of Qi Condensation—but they live in mountain forests in groups and excel at fighting together, making them quite tricky.”

“Where do these monkeys usually dwell?” Liang Yan interjected.

“They’re not rare; they’re spread throughout Zhao. The closest is Screen Mountain to the west—at your pace, it’ll take about three days to get there.”

Zhuo Bufan paused, then continued, “As for the second item, Enchanting Incense, it’s a secret recipe of the Scented Path Sect, a small cultivation sect in Zhao. The sect is mostly women, skilled in many unconventional arts, and not easy to deal with. Be especially careful, Junior Brother.”

Liang Yan nodded, “Thank you for the warning. Where is this Scented Path Sect?”

“It’s far from here,” Zhuo Bufan replied. “Even flying by magical means, it would take six or seven days one way. You’d miss the Calligraphy Gathering. However, by coincidence, several small sects in Zhao are currently holding a joint exchange at Screen Mountain, and the Scented Path Sect has sent representatives. Since Enchanting Incense is their specialty, they’ll likely bring some to trade.”

“So I’ve had a stroke of luck,” Liang Yan said self-mockingly.

“Haha, as it’s said: The Way has fifty paths, Heaven applies forty-nine and leaves one for escape. Though Heaven seems indifferent, there’s always a sliver of hope—perhaps this is the chance Heaven has left you.”

Liang Yan shook his head. “Senior Brother, stop teasing me. Tell me about the third item.”

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Zhuo Bufan rubbed his nose and smiled. “The third item, the Heavenly Treasure Coin, is not a magical artifact but a worldly antique. In the secular kingdom of Zhao, the former emperor once gathered the nation’s finest artisans and rare materials to cast twelve coins, known as the Heavenly Treasure Coins. When the previous dynasty fell, the coins scattered among the people and became priceless relics.”

“Zhao is vast—how could I find one of these coins in such a short time?”

“Not so,” Zhuo Bufan shook his head. “I’ve heard that a disciple surnamed Ma from the Calligraphy Division acquired one last year. If he’s willing to part with it, your task will be much easier.”

“I see!” Liang Yan exclaimed in realization.

“That’s the situation.” Zhuo Bufan continued, “No matter what you decide, make your preparations quickly and return as soon as possible. The Calligraphy Gathering is less than half a month away. If you miss this chance, once the supervising elder returns, you’ll have no more opportunities.”

“Thank you for your reminder!” Liang Yan’s expression grew solemn. He bowed deeply to Zhuo Bufan. “You have shared everything with me, Senior Brother. I am deeply grateful. If I survive this ordeal, I swear to do three things for you in the future, no matter the danger!”

Zhuo Bufan laughed and pulled Liang Yan up, clapping his shoulder. “No need for such formality! I only hope you live a long life. If you’re gone, who will refine my pills?”

The two shared a smile and said no more. Zhuo Bufan waved his hand, summoning the Dingguang Sword, and the two returned to Emerald Bamboo Peak. There, Liang Yan set up a new spirit-gathering formation to help Zhuo Bufan refine pills.

Given Liang Yan’s special circumstances, he prepared twice the usual amount of medicine this time, ensuring Zhuo Bufan would have no shortage for months. This was Liang Yan’s own wish—after all, he was burning his bridges, and a single failure would mean his death. Zhuo Bufan owed him nothing, yet helped him so much; Liang Yan was truly grateful.

After leaving Zhuo Bufan’s abode, Liang Yan hurried to Lin Fei’s residence. Seeing Liang Yan for the second time that day, Lin Fei was clearly surprised. Once Liang Yan explained his purpose, Lin Fei nodded silently.

“Old master, I’ve done all I can to help. I hope Heaven favors this young man you’ve chosen,” Lin Fei murmured as he watched Liang Yan depart.

The next morning, at the break of dawn.

At the entrance to the Yixing Pavilion’s valley, a drunken man lounged atop a boulder, his chest bare. In his left hand he held a wine gourd; in his right, a brush. On the cliff face before him, he painted a landscape of mountains, rivers, flowers, and birds.

He took a swig from the gourd, then flicked his brush, painting a stroke in the air—yet the mark appeared on the cliff as if by magic. It was as though he had breathed life into the painting: the waterfall thundered down, mountains loomed through mist, flower buds opened silently, and birds seemed ready to fly from the rock.

The drunkard studied his work for a moment, then grinned in satisfaction.

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At that moment, a young man emerged from the valley’s mouth. He wore plain grey clothes and a straw hat, hurrying along like a village boy.

He stopped ten paces from the drunkard and bowed respectfully. “Liang Yan, outer disciple of the Formation Division, sent by my uncle-master to purchase supplies. Elder, may I have your permission to leave the mountain?”

The drunkard glanced at him, then returned his gaze to the cliff. “If you’re on official business, do you have a letter?”

Liang Yan nodded. “Of course.” He pulled an envelope from his robe.

The drunkard waved his hand. The envelope flew from Liang Yan’s grip, spun through the air, and landed lightly in the old man’s palm.

He opened it and muttered, “Hmm... so it’s that boy Lin Fei... Why would he send a menial disciple for this? The sect rules are clear: unless promoted to outer disciple, one cannot leave the mountain lightly.”

Liang Yan was prepared for this and replied calmly, “With the Calligraphy Gathering imminent, all uncle-masters and elders at Foundation Establishment or above are extremely busy. Uncle-master Lin’s disciples are also occupied, so they gave such minor errands to me.”

At these words, the drunkard’s face flushed for no reason. Liang Yan noticed but said nothing—though he found it strange.

Little did he know, the man before him had come to the valley entrance precisely to avoid the chaos within—seizing the chance to play doorkeeper so he could laze about in peace.

“Ahem...” The drunkard coughed. “Very well, but be quick about it.”

Liang Yan was overjoyed. He bowed to the old man, then strode out of the valley.

The drunkard watched him go. “An interesting lad,” he muttered. “His spiritual roots are all jumbled, his aptitude poor, yet he’s reached the fifth level of Qi Condensation at his age.” But he soon shook his head, dismissing the thought, and turned back to admire his “masterpiece.”