Chapter 230: Journey Through the Pass, the General's Tale
…
“Last time we left off, the Rain-Cloaked Old Man of the River unleashed the immortal pill, its sword-light striking straight for the vicious flood dragon.”
“This single stroke appeared ordinary, yet heaven and earth changed color.”
“The river parted in two, revealing the deep channels of the riverbed! The residual shockwave of the sword qi sent the clouds overhead scattering in every direction!”
“Sword light wove around the flood dragon’s body, slashing from the crown of its head to the tip of its tail. The beast’s flesh split open, and its demonic blood congealed in midair into blossoms of crimson lotus, drifting gently down to the river’s surface.”
“When the crowd came to their senses, the small boat and the old man had long since vanished. All that remained upon the river was the blood-glow of the great demon, and overhead, the phantom of the illusory formation—lingering for dozens of days without dispersing.”
The storyteller snapped his fan shut, concealing his face, and spoke in a hushed tone.
“From that day forth, the cultivators of Chu flocked to this place in droves. Even many cultivators from other nations came, drawn by the tale.”
“Among the cultivators of Chu, speculation about the Rain-Cloaked Old Man of the River ran wild, each theory different from the last.”
“Some said he was a mighty rogue cultivator who had crossed over from the immortal islands of the Eastern Sea, amusing himself in the mortal world.”
“Others guessed he was one of the ancient ancestors of the Six Great Sects, who had happened to return to Chu and intervened to save the day.”
“But the Six Great Sects of that time turned their libraries and secret records upside down and could not find the slightest trace.”
“Over time, more and more rogue cultivators gathered here. Those who came by reputation built dwellings and settled, all hoping to find some remnant left behind by that ‘immortal’—to comprehend the sword qi and Dao techniques, the illusion arts and true incantations.”
“As the years passed, ever more cultivators established caves and took up residence. Cultivation clans emerged and multiplied, and the Immortal-Descent Pass grew in stature.”
“By the time the Later Chu moved its capital to Yingjing, the Pass had already taken shape.”
“The current arrangement of the Immortal-Descent Pass has undergone many transformations over the centuries. The first to establish its governance was Patriarch Nangong, who at the time of the Rain-Cloaked Old Man’s sword display was merely a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator watching from the riverbank at a distance.”
“Later, he himself broke through to Core Formation and became one of the leading figures among Chu’s rogue cultivators.”
“It is said that where the dragon’s head fell, a remnant trace of sword qi was preserved within the Immortal-Descent Tower. After Patriarch Nangong achieved Core Formation, he attempted to comprehend it—only to suffer a backlash from the sword qi that nearly damaged his meridians.”
“Let this be known: that sword qi has persisted for a thousand years without dissipating. Consider what that says about the power of the Rain-Cloaked Old Man of the River… What manner of heaven-defying abilities did he possess?”
Clap.
The fan closed. The gavel struck.
“This indeed is…”
“A single sword across the river, a thousand years of merit. Where in the mortal world can one trace an immortal’s footsteps?”
“The sword art is complete—take it and go. Wherever there are flood dragons, slay the flood dragons!”
…
Song Yan lifted the teacup of spirit tea, took a sip, and immediately felt refreshed, its lingering essence lingering on his palate.
The cultivators around him rose one by one, chatting amongst themselves as they departed.
The Immortal-Descent Pass truly lived up to its name as the City Among the Clouds.
The cultivators who lived here enjoyed experiences no different from those of mortal folk.
Such as listening to storytelling.
“Was that man really that powerful?” Xiao He sat cross-legged in her chair, clearly dissatisfied with how quickly the flood dragon ancestor had been defeated in the tale.
She muttered to herself, “It must have been made up.”
Xiao Ju stared blankly, lost in thought.
Song Yan, meanwhile, was musing, a vague idea forming in his mind.
The Rain-Cloaked Old Man of the River…
Unknown origins.
An immortal pill transformed into a sword.
Everything about the tale and its descriptions brought back memories of that old man in the rain cloak in Wushan Valley.
Could it have been him?
He was perhaps the only elder Song Yan had ever encountered who had connections to the Sword Sect.
If this elder had already been here before the Sword Sect Master departed, did that mean that throughout the thousands of years since sword cultivators had vanished, he had remained in this very place?
A lifespan of thousands of years…
“Nascent Soul?”
No. Not enough.
Song Yan drew a deep breath.
A Transformation Spirit realm cultivator, then…
That was far, far beyond his reach.
The tale had ended, and in the tearoom, nearly all the cultivators who had come to listen had departed.
Song Yan rose to leave as well.
Xiao He was a demon beast, but being only a first-stage late-phase demon, and moreover brought into the Immortal-Descent Pass as a cultivator’s spirit companion, she encountered no difficulty.
Stepping out of the tearoom, the roar of the crowd surged over them like a tide.
Song Yan walked the streets with Xiao Ju and Xiao He. Shops lined both sides—some selling magical artifacts, pills, and talismans, others offering spirit food at restaurants catering specifically to cultivators.
“Let’s dispose of those useless items first,” Song Yan mused. Several Cosmos Bags held odds and ends he had sorted through, ready to sell.
Following the map of the Immortal-Descent Pass, Song Yan made his way toward the Treasury Pavilion.
The Treasury Pavilion was a well-known name in the Chu cultivation world and fairly trustworthy.
“Fellow Daoist, this Fellow Daoist?”
A low voice came from behind. Song Yan glanced to the side.
Beneath a pavilion, there stood a cultivator of about twenty-eight or twenty-nine years’ appearance, impeccably composed.
Why call him impeccably composed? He carried himself with great bearing—smooth-faced and clean-shaven, his Daoist robes intricately patterned in black and white, a horsetail whisk draped over his arm.
At thePerfection realm of Qi Refining, he regarded Song Yan with a smile.
“What is it?”
Song Yan’s expression was neutral, but basic courtesy demanded a response.
“Heh heh, Fellow Daoist, please forgive my boldness.” He stepped forward and offered a slight bow.
“To my shame, my name is Qin Yicao.”
Song Yan nodded but did not offer his own name.
The other man paused briefly, but continued regardless.
“I had previously informed several Fellow Daoists of an exchange gathering.”
“However, one of them had a sudden matter to attend to and had to leave Xin’an Prefecture.”
“I observed that your bearing is unhurried, and your attire does not match that of the local rogue cultivators. You must be new to this place.”
“If you find yourself at leisure, why not attend our little exchange gathering?”
“Of course, if you are unwilling, that is perfectly fine. I only ask in passing.”
After hearing him out, Song Yan hesitated for a moment, then ultimately declined.
He had always believed that such exchange gatherings and auctions were a waste of time unless one already knew beforehand that a desired treasure or spirit item would be available.
Ordinary spirit items were best cleared out at the Treasury Pavilion—quick and convenient.
Auctions and exchange gatherings were typically held to seek out treasures unavailable in ordinary shops.
But as a sword cultivator, many so-called treasures were of no use to him whatsoever.
Participating, then, was rather inefficient.
It was not that he never attended such events. It was simply that Foundation Establishment was his priority now, and the most precious spirit items he needed had all been obtained.
As for the Supreme Water Spirit, in his view it was merely icing on the cake. Nice to have, but not essential.
There was no need to squander his energy and time on things of questionable value.
Hearing Song Yan’s refusal, Qin Yicao laughed awkwardly, then cupped his fists. “My apologies for the disturbance. I shall take my leave.”
“Good.”
It was but a trivial interlude, and Song Yan continued toward his original destination.
Before long, he found the Treasury Pavilion.
The shopkeeper was a middle-aged cultivator with a goatee. Noting Song Yan’s distinguished bearing, he hurried forward. “Fellow Daoist, is there something you wish to purchase, or do you have items you would like to sell?”
Song Yan wasted no words. He produced the unusable magical artifacts and materials one by one.
The shopkeeper inspected them carefully and offered a fair price.
“Magical artifacts and talismans: three hundred and twenty-five. Pills and miscellaneous items: two hundred and three. Total: five hundred and twenty-eight spirit stones. Tell you what—let me round it up to five hundred and thirty. How does that sound?”
Song Yan raised an eyebrow. “Deal.”
The price was even better than he had anticipated.
It was probably because many of the items held little value in his own estimation, and his mental pricing had naturally skewed lower.
After leaving the Treasury Pavilion, he visited several pill shops and purchased all the remaining auxiliary ingredients for refining the Foundation Establishment Pill, as well as some pills for restoring spiritual energy.
“Hm?”
Song Yan was settling his bill at a pill shop when he heard hushed voices discussing something behind him. The speakers made no effort to conceal their words, and there was a probing quality to their tone.
He paid the spirit stones and turned around, meeting two familiar faces.
“Wow, old Song, it really is you!”
Li Qingfeng’s face broke into a delighted surprise, and he hurried forward.
“See? I told you it was Senior Song. Such an extraordinary bearing—how could I possibly mistake him?” Cen Qinghe smiled beside him. “Senior Song, I never imagined we’d meet you here.”
“Oh? You two have been gone only a few months, and your cultivation has grown impressively.”
Song Yan clicked his tongue in admiration. Li Qingfeng’s cultivation had already reached the seventh level of Qi Refining, making him a formal late-stage Qi Refining cultivator.
Moreover, his spiritual energy was brimming. With the aid of a pill, breaking through to the eighth level should be a matter of time.
Cen Qinghe had likewise reached the sixth level of Qi Refining, one step away from the late stage.
Facing cultivators of the Eastern Abyss Sect, Xiao Ju was still somewhat shy and took a small step back.
To her surprise, Li Qingfeng waved at her with great friendliness.
“This young lady looks somewhat familiar.”
Song Yan nodded. “Ju Luyi. I’ve mentioned her before—a seamstress of exquisite skill, traveling with me on this journey.”
“Oh, oh.” Li Qingfeng remembered. “That’s where I’d seen her.”
Xiao Ju offered the two of them a slightly sheepish bow.
In truth, few cultivators journeyed in company when they went forth from the sect.
Each had their own path, each their own fortune. That was the very purpose of wandering.
It was for this reason that after the Sword-Tempering Grand Competition, Song Yan had not chosen to travel with Li Qingfeng or Gu Qingqing, but had set out alone.
Yet it was not uncommon to encounter kindred spirits along the way and agree to travel together.
Li Qingfeng and Cen Qinghe were such a pair.
In a private room at a restaurant, the three sat at their ease.
Li Qingfeng said, “Come to think of it, we haven’t been here long. We’re actually preparing to leave now.”
“What unfortunate timing.” Song Yan was somewhat surprised.
“During this journey, Junior Sister Qinghe had a fortuitous encounter, and her cultivation has now reached the sixth level of Qi Refining,” Li Qingfeng explained.
“Previously, at Changping, she exchanged for a Breaking Realm Pill. I’m escorting her back to the sect so she can enter seclusion and attempt breakthrough.”
“As it happens, I was also planning to return, so we agreed to travel together.”
“Mm.” Song Yan nodded.
He gave a brief account of his own recent circumstances. When he mentioned that he was now at the ninth level of Qi Refining and was even preparing to enter seclusion and attempt Foundation Establishment in a single effort, a flash of astonishment and envy passed through both their eyes.
Foundation Establishment.
Two simple words that had kept untold numbers of mediocre cultivators without resources locked outside the gates of the immortal path.
No long life.
How old was Song Yan now? Barely past twenty.
If he truly established his Dao Foundation—even three years from now—he would stand among the very top geniuses of the sect.
The self-satisfaction Li Qingfeng had felt from breaking through to late-stage Qi Refining dissipated in an instant.
He had always believed that with his own fortune, with the so-called Heaven-Swallowing inheritance in his possession, he need only cultivate steadily and he would surely distinguish himself in the cultivation world.
That conviction had reached its peak when he broke through to late-stage Qi Refining.
But encountering Song Yan again had sounded an alarm. The cultivation world was full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers. He had underestimated others.
“During your travels, have you heard any news of Senior Li Yi?” Song Yan asked.
At the time of the sect’s Sword-Tempering Competition, Li Yi had already possessed the strength of thePerfection realm of Qi Refining. Nearly a year had now passed.
Given his talent, he should have been able to break through to Foundation Establishment after taking the Foundation Establishment Pill the sect had distributed.
“As a matter of fact, Senior Li Yi just left Yingjing.” Li Qingfeng looked somewhat odd. “He left shortly before you arrived.”
In Song Yan’s eyes, he had merely happened upon two acquaintances.
But from Li Qingfeng and Cen Qinghe’s perspective, two sect friends departing and arriving in quick succession was the more remarkable coincidence.
“General Xiao Ming of Chu—the old General Xiao—once showed great kindness to Senior Li Yi.”
Li Qingfeng said, “His reason for descending the mountain on this journey was to visit the old general. It was a knot in his heart, and it was precisely because of this that he had delayed his Foundation Establishment.”
Song Yan understood.
Back in Feng’an City, he had heard the legend of General Xiao Ming’s tiger-subduing feat.
He had also learned that before Li Yi had ever entered the path of cultivation, he had originally been this old general’s subordinate.
He held the man in great respect as well.
“How has the old general been of late?” he asked casually.
At this, Li Qingfeng’s expression darkened slightly. “Half a month ago, old General Xiao Ming passed away peacefully in his sleep.”
“…”
Song Yan was momentarily stunned. General Xiao Ming was one of Chu’s most renowned generals. His passing should, by all rights, have been mourned across the nation.
But news of his death seemed to have produced not the slightest ripple.
Perhaps it was because he had been out of touch of late, having neglected the affairs of the mortal world?
Outside the window, the street remained bustling with crowds, but within the room, a sudden silence fell among the company.
Even Xiao He’s enthusiastic eating had slowed.
“Parting in life and death is the way of the mortal world. The old man lived to ninety-three—a blessed passing, at that.” Li Qingfeng waved his hand. “By the way, since you are preparing to attempt Foundation Establishment, is there anything I can help with?”
Song Yan shook his head. “No need. I’ve made most of the preparations.”
“Good.” Li Qingfeng glanced at the sky. “It’s getting late, and we must be on our way. When you return to the sect, we’ll have a proper talk.”
“Absolutely.”
After a brief farewell, Li Qingfeng and Cen Qinghe’s figures quickly vanished among the crowd.
Song Yan stood where he was, gazing in the direction of their departure, his heart a tangle of emotions.
Though he too would leave the Immortal-Descent Pass, the time to return to the sect had not yet come.
Setting aside that his cultivation had not yet reached the threshold for breakthrough, he first needed to return to Lanxi Cave to return the Red Dust Ark.
“Senior Song…” Xiao Ju called softly.
Song Yan came back to himself and nodded. “Let’s go as well. We’ll buy a few more things, then head back to Lanxi Cave.”
Hm?
Beside them, an elderly cultivator in a rain cloak and bamboo hat passed by.
In his left hand he carried an empty fish creel. His right hand rested upon a long fishing rod. He swayed as he walked, humming a fishing song in a strange accent.
“The waters of the Wu River run clear and bright, crabs and fish all go where they please~”
“The knife-fish is long and its blade-work keen, righting wrongs wherever it’s seen~”