Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Pen That Blossoms in Dreams (Extra Chapter for the Alliance Leader "Zuo Xian Qitian" – A Grand Chapter)

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Qingzhou is situated in the heart of the Central Plains, bordered by the river and close to the sea. To the east, it adjoins Jinling and Kuaiji; to the west, it connects to Jingchu and Heluo; to the south, it neighbors Yuzhang; and to the north, it backs onto Qilu.

On this splendid land stand the Daoist Qi Yun Mountain, the Zen Jiuhua Mountain, the Sword Sect's Langya Mountain, and the secluded retreat of Tianzhu Mountain. Yet, most renowned among them is Huangshan, acclaimed as the sanctuary of wandering cultivators.

Perhaps owing to the abundance of hermits and free cultivators, and the absence of any major sect headquarters, the cultivation world here is the most scattered and free, rarely plagued by conflict. Furthermore, its distance from the demonic sects of the north and south has brought long-lasting peace, attracting even more solitary practitioners.

The issue, however, is that without a great sect to oversee it, the region’s spring thunder has grown sparse, unnoticed by most—except for the Office of Response at Sanqing Mountain in Yuzhang, which was the first to realize the anomaly.

Daoist Jianxian and Cheng Xinzhan journeyed north along the border between Yuzhang and Kuaiji, entering Qingzhou, where they were greeted by Huangshan, the so-called sanctuary of wandering cultivators.

Huangshan, named for the Yellow Emperor’s alchemical practices upon its slopes, stretches over a hundred miles north to south, encompassing five million acres, its peaks undulating endlessly, with summits that reach the heavens. A poem attests:

“Huangshan rises four thousand fathoms high, thirty-two lotus peaks. Red cliffs flank stone pillars, lotus blossoms and golden lilies bloom.”

Its majestic beauty has been praised throughout the ages:

“Heaven opens a painted scroll.”
“The world’s first wonder mountain.”
“After seeing the Five Sacred Mountains, no other peaks amaze; after returning from Huangshan, no other sacred mountains compare.”

Now, as Huangshan looms before them, the steady spring rain paints it as a towering ink-wash landscape. Cheng Xinzhan gazed at it in awe, feeling that even the highest praises could not capture a fraction of its grandeur.

“It is precisely because Huangshan is so magnificent that, through history, no sect has been able to claim it as their own. Any sect with such ambition was met with united opposition, and so, over time, it became a haven for wandering cultivators.

“Though wanderers are like floating duckweed, when all the duckweed of the Divine Continent gathers here, they become a force none dare underestimate. I’ve heard Huangshan has a governing body called the Huangshan Administration, whose Libationers are renowned wanderers, some even of the Fourth or Fifth Realm. It’s a pity, though, that their learnings are so diverse, with no single lineage of transcendent teachings or established doctrine—otherwise, in time, the Huangshan Administration might well have become the Huangshan Sect.”

Daoist Jianxian spoke as he watched the spring rain upon the mountain, then explained to Cheng Xinzhan their purpose for coming directly to Huangshan,

“From your gathered information, the diminishing spring thunder in Qingzhou is not limited to a single county or prefecture, but affects the entire region. If this isn’t a coincidence, it means it’s not a matter of some minor demon causing trouble, but rather a great demon beneath the earth corrupting the mountain roots or water veins, its evil spreading throughout the land.

“Huangshan is the source of Qingzhou’s spiritual veins; all mountain roots in Qingzhou originate here, while the water veins come from the Yangtze River. The Yangtze cuts across Qingzhou, its waters feeding both banks, but lacking a unified source, with rivers crisscrossing, making investigation difficult.

“We’ll start at Huangshan, examining which mountain veins extending from here are tainted, and follow the roots to their source. If nothing turns up, we’ll traverse the Yangtze.”

Cheng Xinzhan nodded, feeling he had learned much.

“Luckily, Huangshan is a gathering place for wandering cultivators. Were it the domain of a great sect, we wouldn’t be allowed to probe the mountain so freely.”

With that, Jianxian led Cheng Xinzhan along the outskirts of Huangshan, coming from the south and now circling eastward.

“By the way, do you know the art of geomancy?” Jianxian asked.

“A little,” Cheng Xinzhan replied honestly. His master had taught him the “Green Copper Metamorphosis Sutra,” which began with corpse-finding methods, and naturally involved geomancy.

Jianxian smiled, “Mingzhi Mountain surely knows; I just wasn’t sure you’d learned it yet. You maintain the Mingzhi Mountain tradition, and have also learned swordsmanship and thunder arts—impressive.”

Cheng Xinzhan replied, “I know them, but not expertly.”

“No matter—learn much first; in time, skill will follow.”

Cheng Xinzhan smiled, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“Let’s observe the mountain’s energy as we walk. If a vein is tainted, its spiritual flow will be sluggish; the key is to see where the wind breaks, and whether black seepage appears in the rocks. With you here, my task is much easier.”

As they walked and observed, Cheng Xinzhan seized the chance to ask about the ancient Thunder Department, especially its deities, in preparation for the Thunder Residence’s inner sanctum.

Daoist Jianxian answered every question, explaining from the Thunder Ancestor to the Chief Commander, the attendant generals, marshals, Lord Thunder and Lady Lightning, and the divine commanders and true sovereigns.

——

Meanwhile, to the west of Huangshan, several dozen miles away, a concentrated cloud of radiant light was flying straight toward the mountain.

Generally, such radiance moves swiftly but spreads its glow, making for a dazzling spectacle if used as a carriage, but also easily spotted from afar—not good for concealment.

Yet this beam was both fast and subdued, threading through the gentle rain almost unnoticed.

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Within the radiance was a young woman of exceptional grace.

She wore a long gown of pale yellow, her waist-length hair tied behind her head with a red cord. Her bearing was ethereal, and as she bathed in rain and radiant light, she seemed even more otherworldly.

Yet this remarkable maiden wore a complex expression.

At that moment, Zhou Qingyun’s inner feelings were as tangled as her face revealed.

She had come to Huangshan at eight, stayed for eight years—her happiest time. At sixteen, her master sent her away to Emei in Western Shu; now three years had passed, the most trying years of her life.

Now, at her master’s command, she was returning to Huangshan. Ah, her current master—the leader of Emei, the foremost figure of the Mystical Gate, Master Miaoyi, Qi Shuming—was not the same as her previous master, Chanxia Master of Wenbi Peak in Huangshan.

How could one person have two masters?

What should she call her master now, when she returned? Should she address her as Chanxia Master?

She found it laughable.

Yet, at the time, on the Tianbo Wall at Jade Cliff, with the Emei leader and his wife present, Master Miaoyi personally declared her his disciple—how could she refuse? In that moment, she thought of many ways to decline, but to her surprise, other disciples with inheritances from elsewhere—Yan Renying, Yu Yingnan, Zhuge Jingrui—none refused!

She was the last to kneel and accept discipleship, with all eyes upon her, unable to utter a refusal. She could not imagine the consequences of declining Master Miaoyi—not for herself, but for fear her true master, Chanxia, might suffer, or that Huangshan, her cherished home, might be implicated.

In these three years, she had obtained the “Moon Soul” flying sword and practiced Emei’s Daoist scriptures. She knew that Master Miaoyi’s cultivation far surpassed Chanxia, and Emei’s heritage was deeper than Huangshan’s.

Yet she was unhappy, suffering every moment, always yearning for Huangshan, its strange pines, bizarre stones, sea of clouds, hot springs, and winter snow.

She missed Wenbi Peak, missed her true master.

Thinking of soon seeing her master again, she felt both joy and shame.

Quickly, she returned to the beloved territory of Huangshan. It was spring rain season; everywhere was fresh grass and tender pines, vibrant with new life. The mountain in rain never tired her gaze.

She headed directly for Wenbi Peak and soon saw its familiar radiance, but then noticed two Daoists surveying the area, stopping and starting, seemingly investigating something, now standing still, eyes fixed on Wenbi Peak.

Were they here to harm her master? Visiting? Or merely passing by?

Zhou Qingyun concealed herself within the radiance emanating from Wenbi Peak, becoming one with the light, quietly approaching the two to listen.

——

Meanwhile, Cheng Xinzhan, as he observed and listened, suddenly realized he was enveloped in radiance. But where did this radiance come from amid the rain?

He looked up and saw a mountain emitting the glow, coloring the surroundings. The mountain stood:

A solitary peak, upright and towering, round at the base and sharp at the top, like a brush tip pointing skyward. At its summit grew a grove of old pines, twisted and lush, forming a green canopy. From afar, it looked like a cluster of green flowers blooming atop the brush tip.

Below the lofty peak lay a range of low, undulating stone hills, shaped like a sleeping immortal.

Cheng Xinzhan, long familiar with Huangshan’s famed rocks, saw this treasure land and was not disappointed, exclaiming,

“Master, look at that mountain.”

Daoist Jianxian saw it too, but his attention first went to the radiance emanating from within, undisturbed by rain, clearly not ordinary light. Noting its pure and harmonious quality, devoid of any vulgarity, he knew it must be the abode of a righteous hermit.

They had come here by chance, simply observing from afar, and should not have disturbed the owner.

“Radiance in the rain—such splendor,” he said with admiration.

Cheng Xinzhan nodded, “What a scene of ‘the dream brush blossoms’.”

“Dream brush blossoms?” Jianxian looked at Cheng Xinzhan.

Cheng Xinzhan replied, “Master, look at the solitary peak—it’s like an upright brush. The pines atop resemble flowers blooming from the brush, while the stones below are like a reclining immortal, as if inspiration bursts forth in his dream, and the brush beside him blooms.”

Jianxian listened and smiled, nodding, “You have a gift for naming. My Shujishan has many strange pines and rocks as well. When we return, I’ll report to the mountain lord and let you tour the mountain, naming its features. You may not know, but most place names there are things like ‘Severed Head Cliff’ and ‘Tiger Drop Ravine.’ Where we reside, ‘Eighteen Slopes,’ is already the most pleasant name.”

Cheng Xinzhan smiled. In the rain, inspired by the mountain, he composed a verse:

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“Stone bones rugged, a sight apart,
Dragon pines weave emerald, clouds spread art.
Nature’s brush blooms flowers without end,
Painting wonders, each peak a work to commend.”

Daoist Jianxian glanced sideways, not expecting his nominal disciple to possess such poetic flair beyond his cultivation.

In the radiance, hearing the young, handsome Daoist name the scene “dream brush blossoms” and recite a poem in praise, sensing the pure, upright aura from both, Zhou Qingyun realized she was mistaken to be wary. To remain hidden now would be discourteous.

“May I ask which two Daoists stand before me? What brings you to Wenbi Peak?”

A yellow-robed maiden stepped out from the radiance, appearing before them.

Both Jianxian and Cheng Xinzhan were startled—someone so near, yet unnoticed!

Seeing the youthful girl emerge from the radiance, they were further astonished.

Jianxian stepped forward, forming the Three Pure Ones seal in greeting, “Tao Jianxian of Sanqing Mountain, accompanied by disciple Cheng Xinzhan, greets the elder. We have inadvertently trespassed upon your esteemed domain; please forgive us.”

Cheng Xinzhan followed suit. Though the girl seemed his own age, her ability to remain undetected even by Jianxian suggested she was a master in youthful guise.

Zhou Qingyun, seeing the elder and youth addressing her as senior and bowing, blushed, sidestepped, and returned the salute, quickly explaining,

“You’ve misunderstood. I grew up here and learned the art of concealment within radiance. I am no senior.”

Jianxian and Cheng Xinzhan exchanged a glance—so that was it.

Jianxian replied, “I see. Still, it was our indulgence in the scenery that led us to linger; it is only right you came to inquire. We apologize for our intrusion and will depart at once.”

He made as if to leave; beautiful as the mountain was, it belonged to another and was not theirs to admire for long.

Yet, though Zhou Qingyun had spent three years at Emei, she was never one to dominate. How could she drive someone away simply for admiring Wenbi Peak? She hurriedly said,

“Daoist, you mistake me. I’ve just returned home and happened to meet you two; I revealed myself only to ask, not to send you away. My master always said Huangshan’s beauty is for all under heaven to enjoy. Please, feel free to stay. If you wish, come up the peak with me for a while. Just now, you praised the mountain in verse and named it ‘dream brush blossoms’—my master would be delighted to hear it.”

She addressed Cheng Xinzhan directly.

Jianxian shook his head gently—he was under orders and could not linger. About to politely decline, he saw sudden change!

A snowy sword light shot from Zhou Qingyun’s sword pouch at her waist, straight toward Cheng Xinzhan!

At such close range, with no warning, Jianxian’s eyes widened, fingers already gripping a thunder talisman. Yet he could not fathom why, if she were a demon, she hadn’t attacked earlier, waiting until now. He managed to shout,

“You misunderstand!”

At the same moment, the sword pouch at Cheng Xinzhan’s waist popped open, and a crimson sword light burst forth, meeting the snowy light head-on.

“Ding!”

A clear ring sounded.

The crimson and snowy sword lights clashed suddenly, only Jianxian reacted in time, but he could not stop it. Their owners, meanwhile, remained oblivious.

When the swords met, both looked up to see the crimson light transform into a red-crested white rooster, and the snowy light become a blue-eyed jade rabbit, now nuzzling each other in mid-air as if reunited after long absence.

Debt report:
1. Two chapters owed for monthly tickets;
2. One chapter owed to the alliance leader “The Painter Selling Newspapers.”
(All counted as major chapters)
(End of this chapter)