Chapter 157: The Sage Returns to the Mortal Realm, Sipping a Sip of Earthly Fireworks [Requesting Monthly Tickets]

Ascending the mountain to converse with the Holy Master is something that most cultivators in the mortal world dream of. This is not only because of the transcendent status and prestige of the Holy Mountains, but also because of the immense benefits that such a conversation brings.

Legends of the Holy Master have existed for vast stretches of time, passed down from antiquity to the present day. What manner of existence this truly is, very few in the world have ever witnessed with their own eyes; even the Masters of the Holy Mountains rarely get to see the Holy Master frequently.

To receive guidance and have one's doubts resolved by the Holy Master can already be called a supreme fortuitous encounter.

The Holy Mountains are commonly referred to by cultivators as the Central Earth Holy Mountains, primarily because the issuance of the Minor Holy Tokens and the compilation of the Minor Holy Roll by the Holy Mountains are centered around the Central Earth Dynasty.

Under the leadership of its founding emperor, Emperor Taizu of Zhao, the Great Zhao Dynasty brought an end to an era of chaos and ushered in a brand-new age. Having occupied the Central Earth, the Holy Mountains naturally took Great Zhao as their core.

Even though Great Zhao migrated southward, the dynasty has after all not been destroyed, and thus the Minor Holy Roll and Minor Holy Tokens of the Holy Mountains still remain within the territory of the Great Zhao Dynasty.

Consequently, many geniuses outside of Great Zhao yearn to converse with the Holy Master but are unable to do so, entirely due to environmental factors.

That An Le is able to converse with the Holy Master has indeed caused a stir throughout the entire world, but this is even more so because of An Le's rise against the current, and because his ascent has truly been far too brief.

The attention that geniuses from nations such as Yuan Mongol, Xiliang, and the Dali Kingdom pay to An Le stems largely from that battle upon the Canglang River.

In that battle, An Le relied on a mysterious trump card to summon the Blood Guanyin, slaying the ninth-realm cultivator Tong Guan, as well as a Netherworld Prefecture ghost runner and quite a few Xiliang heretical cultivators.

This was the primary reason that truly propelled An Le to sudden fame.

However, the geniuses of the various nations do not actually hold much awe for the top spot on the Minor Holy Roll.

For instance, Tie Lie, the head of the Falcon Roll, has himself stepped into the double seventh realm. Blessed and nourished by the Central Earth dragon veins, his talent is extraordinarily monstrous, and his overall strength can be called the number one of the younger generation.

Yet the number one on the Minor Holy Roll has merely reached the double fifth realm. The double fifth realm... cannot even break into the top ten of the Falcon Roll.

Therefore, to say that Tie Lie could look up to the summit of the Minor Holy Roll is certainly not something to be taken seriously.

Yet, holding the qualification to converse with the Holy Master precisely through the Minor Holy Roll is the main reason why countless individuals feel envy and lingering resentment.

Pouring rain fell in torrents, casting a grayish veil over the entire world and obscuring the surrounding scenery.

At the foot of an ordinary, misty-rain-shrouded green mountain, figures came hurtling through the air, parting the sheets of rain before landing softly and casting their gazes around.

Tie Lie, Wotai Tuzhen, Boqi, and other proud talents of the Yuan Mongol Falcon Roll arrived almost simultaneously, rushing to the scene just as An Le settled at the foot of the mountain.

They all raised their heads, fixing their eyes upon An Le as his figure gradually disappeared at the base of the mountain.

With a broken bamboo sword hanging at his waist and a pot of aged yellow wine in hand, the young man walked toward the mountain.

This unconstraint and casual ease caused the minds of more than a few onlookers to ripple slightly, leaving them in a daze of envy.

Clad in crimson, Ye Wenxi had just returned from the Canglang River battlefield, the majestic aura of her recent breakthrough into the sixth realm still lingering about her entire body.

A complex look flickered in her eyes. She had never imagined that An Le would choose this very mountain as the place to converse with the Holy Master.

Among dozens of cold mountains, why did An Le choose this one?

Fushong Mountain was where the legendary top scholar Li You'an had once conversed with the Holy Master, spending three days and three nights in dialogue with him here.

Li You'an had once brought Ye Wenxi to this mountain. Upon it stood a sheer cliff, and upon that cliff were three sword qi traces left in the mortal world by the Holy Master.

Those were a gift bestowed upon Li You'an.

The final future sword qi trace remained uncomprehended by Li You'an, who had previously brought many geniuses here; Ye Wenxi was one of them. Regrettably, Ye Wenxi had failed to comprehend or obtain the future sword qi.

She had heard that An Le had obtained the future sword qi right here, and now he had once again chosen to set foot upon this mountain.

In truth, An Le could have chosen a brand-new mountain, in which case he would have been the sole person chosen for the Seventh Mountain.

Among dozens of cold mountains, choosing any one of them to become the Seventh Mountain—what an immense prestige that would be! Yet by choosing Fushong Mountain, An Le was equivalent to transferring a portion of that prestige over to Li You'an.

Gu Huangquan and Gu Naihe landed one after the other, their eyes flashing as they gazed at the mountain, unable to suppress the excitement rising in their hearts.

An Le choosing this mountain meant that it would become the Seventh Mountain in the future. If they could manage to become the Lord of the Seventh Mountain, this mountain would be etched into their very lives, holding paramount importance.

Gu Huangquan's eyes were filled with fiery intensity.

Amidst the driving rain, he took a step forward—an uncontrolled step born of a desire to follow in An Le's footsteps, to ascend this Fushong Mountain, to ascend this future Seventh Mountain.

However, the moment he stepped forward, he instantly became the focal point of everyone's gaze.

The next instant, a pressure akin to a collapsing mountain violently bore down upon Gu Huangquan, causing his complexion to shift drastically.

The Lord of the Sixth Mountain, carrying a pine wood sword case upon his back, blocked his path. Crossing his arms, looking utterly cold and stern, he gave merely a single look.

Gu Huangquan felt as though his mind and soul were about to suffer devastating trauma, as if an intensely brilliant sword qi had drilled straight into the center of his brow, intent on executing and severing the demonic intent brewing in his heart.

"Lord of the Sixth Mountain, spare your wrath!"

Gu Naihe spoke in a soft, mellifluous voice, her crimson lips parting as she delivered a coquettish tone that seemed capable of wringing out water.

"We have merely come to contend for the qualification of the Seventh Mountain's Lord, and we have not committed any outrageous acts thus far. Please, Lord Mountain Master, raise your hand and show mercy..." Gu Naihe pleaded.

The Lord of the Sixth Mountain cast a cold glance at her. Great malice billowed around the alluring woman, filling him with aversion and a burning urge to cut her down with a single sword.

Cultivators hailing from Xiliang found it difficult to maintain a normal person's state of mind; most of them had essentially fallen into demonic corruption within Xiliang. After all, under such a bizarre and perilous environment where death could strike at any moment, maintaining a normal human will was naturally an arduous task.

"An Le has chosen this mountain, but the Seventh Mountain has yet to open. Aside from the one conversing with the Holy Master, no others are permitted to set foot."

"Should anyone persist in stepping forward, bear the consequences yourselves."

The cold, stern words issued from the lips of the Lord of the Sixth Mountain.

The torrential rain continued to lash down, fat drops of water slamming against the ground and plunging the surroundings into silence. No one dared to voice any dissent, for challenging a Mountain Master at this juncture was hardly a wise decision.

Tie Lie narrowed his eyes, nodded toward the Lord of the Sixth Mountain, and then swept away into the distance, followed closely by the geniuses of the Yuan Mongol Falcon Roll.

Lacking the qualification to converse with the Holy Master, remaining upon the mountain at this moment was utterly meaningless.

The Seventh Mountain had yet to open, and the mountain remained an ordinary peak; no matter how they fought over it now, nothing would come of it.

The suppressed Gu Huangquan appeared thoroughly refined, wearing an expression of nostalgic apology as he bowed to the Lord of the Sixth Mountain. He looked nothing at all like a cultivator who had walked out of Xiliang, resembling instead a scholarly Confucian scholar from the Academy of Letters.

Accompanied by the cultivators of the Xiliang Kingdom, Gu Huangquan and Gu Naihe walked off into the distance, eventually coming to a halt beneath the shelter of a tree.

The various geniuses who had fought their way here seemed to temporarily set aside their combative tempers in this moment.

Exchanging a glance, they all raised their eyes to gaze collectively at this ordinary cold mountain.

...

Clad in white, An Le walked slowly upward along Fushong Mountain.

The mountain path was muddy; washed by the rain, the water mixed with yellow clay to create an extremely slick surface. Stepping upon it without careful control of one's footing made it all too easy to slip.

Naturally, such an embarrassing mishap as slipping on the mountain path was out of the question for An Le. With his current cultivation at the perfection of the fifth realm of body refinement, his mastery over his own physical vessel made such an accident utterly impossible.

With his white robes fluttering and holding the pot of aged yellow wine, a faint smile hung upon An Le's lips.

In truth, An Le was genuinely filled with anticipation regarding his conversation with the Holy Master. From the moment he first embarked upon the path of cultivation, the Holy Master had always been a transcendent name lingering beside his ears.

Both Madam Hua and the old man of the Imperial Ancestral Temple felt that conversing with the Holy Master was an immensely glorious matter.

It could even be understood as a supreme fortuitous encounter.

Consequently, An Le held high expectations for this dialogue in his heart.

An Le had visited Fushong Mountain once before, guided back then by Li You'an. Now, revisiting this familiar place, he remained well-acquainted with the path up the mountain.

Dense fog hung amid the mountains, interweaving with the damp breath of rain and carrying a biting chill upon the mountain breeze.

This was a mountain that had never been developed; it didn't even possess stone steps, and the path upward consisted entirely of rugged, difficult terrain.

However, for a cultivator, traversing such mountain paths was hardly a arduous task.

Clambering over a rain-washed, mirror-smooth boulder, he then scaled a small mound.

Before long, An Le caught sight of that mirror-smooth sheer cliff, upon which even the lashing rain failed to leave a single droplet's trace.

The welcoming pine still stood sentinel atop the precipice, and beneath the pine lay a massive boulder where the rain splashed into a hazy mist of water droplets.

Walking over to the welcoming pine, An Le swept his hand across the air. A surge of scalding vitality instantly evaporated the rainwater on the boulder, leaving the stone bone-dry.

Sitting cross-legged upon the stone, An Le raised his head to look at the sheer cliff.

Having lost its future sword qi, the cliff had grown increasingly ordinary, resembling nothing more than a placid mirror devoid of ripples.

Yet, though An Le had mastered the future sword qi, his utilization of it remained far from effortless to this day.

Even with the God-Penetrating Sword Physique, his progress in grasping the future sword qi still seemed exceptionally slow.

He had comprehended the Red Heart and River-Mountain sword intents—two sword intents of differing natures, simplicity versus complexity—yet he still possessed few clues regarding the future sword qi.

The future sword qi was coiled within the bamboo sword Green Mountain, wrapped around that mountain which seemed to house the will of immortals.

Within that mountain, An Le had beheld the First Emperor's stone terracotta figures and even awakened the First Emperor's will, yet in truth, these had little direct effect on the future sword qi itself.

The future sword qi's entanglement with Green Mountain felt more akin to a process of cultivation and nourishment.

An Le pondered for a moment before snapping back to reality, turning his thoughts to the impending conversation with the Holy Master: what questions ought he to raise?

With an opportunity so precious, An Le naturally could not afford to squander it; he needed to carefully weigh and deliberate the questions he wished to discuss.

The rain in the mountains grew lighter, shifting from a downpour to a gentle patter.

Sitting cross-legged, An Le found the summit exceptionally quiet, save for the subtle sound of rain striking the ground and washing over pine needles.

Holding his pot of aged yellow wine, An Le sat upon the boulder.

He unhooked the bamboo sword Green Mountain from his waist. The sword hovered in the air, and with a flick of his finger tapping against it, a beam of sword qi instantly erupted from the mountaintop, piercing the vault of heaven and shattering the layered clouds.

"Your student An Le, upon Fushong Mountain, quietly awaits the Holy Master."

An Le spoke, his voice echoing across the summit.

The young man hailed the Holy Master.

Between heaven and earth, ripples of echo resonated everywhere.

...

At the foot of the mountain.

Everyone heard An Le's resounding proclamation, instinctively lifting their heads and narrowing their eyes as they gazed toward the peak.

The Lord of the Sixth Mountain crossed his arms, a smile curving his lips. With a flicker of his mind, the mud-pill palace at the center of his brow cracked open, releasing a surging torrent of myriad-foot-long auspicious sword qi.

The primordial spirit seated upon the immortal platform opened its eyes, leaped forth, detached itself from the physical vessel, and roamed the heavens.

In an instant, it returned to the Sixth Mountain.

Upon the Sixth Mountain, amidst wind and rain, the guardian Fairy Yunrou stood placidly within the pavilion, quietly awaiting the return of the Mountain Master's primordial spirit.

The primordial spirit of the Lord of the Sixth Mountain descended into the pavilion, appearing as tangible as a living person.

"Yunrou, this pavilion is where I once conversed with the Holy Master. I spent three days in dialogue with him here, clarifying the Red Dust Sword Dao. I wonder what insights An Le will gain from his conversation with the Holy Master?"

The Lord of the Sixth Mountain wore a rare smile as he spoke to Yunrou.

Then, watching as the Sixth Mountain Master sat cross-legged, a flicker of his mind caused his majestic primordial spirit avatar to stir, its palms slamming heavily into the floor of the pavilion.

Rumble!

Yunrou felt as though the Sixth Mountain beneath her feet was shaking violently. The sword qi throughout the entire mountain surged into a boil, churning the air like rising steam!

Every wispy thread of sword qi shimmered with silver light, causing the entire Sixth Mountain to seem veiled and lost amidst the mountain mists.

Simultaneously.

Upon the First Mountain.

Within the thatched cottage, wind chimes chimed merrily as the breeze swept past.

The Lord of the First Mountain, possessing an ethereal, immortal demeanor, raised his hand and pressed it against the ground as well. The entire cottage instantly began to churn with roiling immortal Qi...

Countless mountains dotted the mortal realm.

Atop several of these mountains, figures who had been conversing and laughing now sat cross-legged, their palms pressed against the mountain terrain.

In an instant, the mountains were swallowed and enveloped by swirling mists, veiling their tracks.

Around Fushong Mountain.

The clouds and rain completely dissipated, the raging downpour halting entirely. Vaguely, the phantoms of six great mountains materialized around Fushong Mountain, enveloping the otherwise unremarkable peak within their embrace.

"Six Holy Mountains!"

At the foot of the mountain.

Tie Lie's eyes flashed with brilliant intensity as he drew in a deep breath and exclaimed in wonder.

The simultaneous appearance of the six Holy Mountains was to welcome the Holy Master back to the mortal world and witness the birth of the Seventh Mountain!

On that day, led by the Lord of the First Mountain, they had asked the Holy Master whether An Le was qualified for a conversation, and the Holy Master had agreed—hence today's measures to welcome the Holy Master.

Surrounded by the phantoms of the six mountains, Fushong Mountain was clearly visible to An Le as well, prompting him to slowly stand to his feet.

He watched as the six mountains swelled continuously, towering millions of feet high into the clouds as if propping up the very sky of the mortal realm.

Colorful auspicious radiances surged endlessly, wrapping and winding between the mountain peaks.

Then, An Le noticed that Fushong Mountain also began to quake, rising higher and higher, growing increasingly distant from the mortal earth and steadily plunging into the clouds.

It reached a height level with the other six mountains.

This signified that Fushong Mountain would become the Seventh Mountain of the Holy Mountains.

Boom!

The rate at which Fushong Mountain rose skyrocketed. The surrounding scenery instantly became hazy and dreamlike, resembling the blur of a speeding subway window scene, leaving behind only streaks of neon light!

An Le's breath hitched abruptly, and the flow of blood within his body accelerated.

Driven by the six mountains, Fushong Mountain soared millions of feet upward, piercing the sea of clouds and crashing into the firmament. The starry sky gradually unveiled itself before his eyes, star after star twinkling with brilliance!

Finally, when Fushong Mountain ceased its ascent, the peak found itself beneath a boundless night sky, with seas of stars floating and sinking, and stellar rivers flowing...

Every single star twinkled with light, vast and wondrous.

Beneath the starry sky, An Le's white robes were whiter than snow, his eyes clear and bright.

He searched for the traces of the Holy Master, wanting to see whence the Holy Master came.

Suddenly, his pupils constricted.

For he found that the river of stars was continuously retreating into the distance, until finally... it transformed into a pupil as dark as ink.

Within that pupil flickered starlight—an entity of unimaginably gigantic proportions, so towering that its true size defied comprehension.

Upon the other six mountains, the Mountain Masters all sat cross-legged, offering respectful bows with cupped hands.

"Welcome, Holy Master."

Six voices resonated in unison.

As the words fell, formations surged and flickered across the six Holy Mountains.

They shone like beacons of light illuminating the pitch-black night in the mortal world!

Amidst the shifting of the stars, An Le beheld that unimaginably gigantic figure taking a step toward Fushong Mountain.

The colossal footprint—which seemed as though it could extinguish the entire mortal realm with a single step—landed, only to begin shrinking continuously until it assumed a normal human size.

Rumble!

Throughout the entire mortal realm, countless streams of clouds let out peals of thunder!

This was fundamentally different from the last time the Holy Master revealed a blurred visage outside Lin'an Prefecture; this was the true return of the Holy Master to the mortal world!

Qingcheng Mountain, Zhenwu Temple.

The aged temple master, clad in flawless, ethereal white Daoist robes, suddenly opened his eyes as a wave of shock and awe surged through his heart.

Floating gracefully out of the palace like an immortal descending to earth, he hovered at the summit of Qingcheng Mountain, gazing up at the vault of heaven.

Vaguely, he seemed to catch sight of a figure intent on tearing heaven and earth asunder.

"What realm is the Holy Master truly in..."

The old temple master murmured, a hint of bitterness lingering on his lips.

...

Sword Pool Palace, Sword Pool Lake.

At the bottom of the lake, sword qi crisscrossed and raged wildly.

Every single strand of hair upon the white-haired figure seemed to contain sword qi and sword intent, straining to burst forth from the lake.

The old swordsman opened his eyes. The Chengying sword at his waist vibrated incessantly, its ringing song driving the sword qi of the entire Sword Pool Lake into a surging boil!

"The Holy Master has returned to the mortal world once more... Even just a fleeting glimpse fills one with a sense of immense power."

"The tenth realm... remains nothing more than an ant before the Holy Master."

Sword intent churned within the old swordsman's eyes.

"The twelfth realm?"

"Is it truly the twelfth realm?"

...

Five hundred li outside Lin'an Prefecture stood an ancient temple nestled in the mountains, named Lanke.

An ancient bell tolled within the temple, its chime seeming to span across time. Within the solemn halls, an ancient Buddha opened its eyes.

Within Ganye Temple, majestic spiritual minds intertwined; a figure whose gender was impossible to distinguish sat amidst seven-colored heart-sword radiance, gazing intently toward the Holy Mountains.

At Lanhua Temple, countless monks draped in grand scarlet kasayas sat together, chanting Buddhist honorifics in unison. At the very center, atop a golden lotus throne, sat a monk cast entirely in gold. His eyes burned like flowing fire, his palms pressed together as he looked toward the Seventh Mountain, toward the figure seeming to walk out of the starry sky.

"The Holy Master returns to the mortal world, and our Buddha Tathagata should likewise return."

"A chaotic era approaches; may the light of Buddha fill the mortal realm."

...

The imperial city within Lin'an Prefecture.

Upon Phoenix Mountain, within the imperial mausoleum.

The sovereign of the Zhao family walked slowly along the stone corridor, the flames flickering on either side.

Clad in imperial robes, he paced quietly through the underground tombs of Phoenix Mountain.

"The Holy Master returns to the mortal world, and the Seventh Mountain will open. Now that the Seventh Mountain is permitted to be contested by the geniuses of the Yuan Mongol Empire... the Holy Mountains perhaps intend to abandon the Great Zhao Dynasty..."

The Zhao sovereign murmured.

His words echoed within the serene imperial mausoleum.

Vaguely, from the depths of the mausoleum, a majestic aura was slowly awakening.

...

Canglang River.

Military tents stretched endlessly. Clad in white, Li You'an sat within a tent, holding a lamp while gazing at his sword. Sword light flowed, and starlight spilled brilliantly.

Suddenly, he raised his head, looking toward the distant, hazy vault of heaven where the phantoms of seven mountains loomed high in the mortal world, resembling pillars supporting the firmament.

"An Le has truly done it, conversing with the Holy Master."

"And he even chose Fushong Mountain... What a nostalgic little fellow."

A soft, expectant smile hung upon Li You'an's lips.

He deeply anticipated that An Le would reap harvests from this conversation with the Holy Master.

Allowing this single spark of fire to catch the aid of the wind and truly kindle a raging prairie fire!

Central Earth needed a fire of nirvana.

...

Yuan Mongol Capital.

Streams of surging dragon veins, resembling awakening earth-dragons, converged entirely within this majestic city.

Within the city, the Yuan Mongol Emperor sat bare-chested. Dragon veins seemed engraved directly into his physical flesh, causing his mere circulation of vitality to threaten to shatter the void itself.

When the six Holy Mountains guided and elevated the Fushong Mountain chosen by An Le, the Yuan Mongol Emperor snapped his eyes open. Within his pupils, eight dragon veins seemed to churn and roar.

"Holy Master!"

With a murmured word and a deep intake of breath, the roiling force of the eight dragon veins outside the Yuan Mongol Capital grew weaker and weaker, until finally... they completely prostrated themselves upon the ground, lying motionless. Vaguely, the entire Central Earth seemed to grow dim in that moment.

Meanwhile, the aura of the Yuan Mongol Emperor climbed step by step, growing higher and more magnificent!

However, upon reaching its peak, it felt as though it had struck an impassable mountain, unable to break through.

In the end, all the aura retreated back into his physical body.

"What a pity, I still failed to shatter the mountain that straddles above the tenth realm. There are, after all, only eight dragon veins; one is still missing."

"Within the sleeping palace of Lishan buried for ten thousand years lies the ninth dragon vein. It is time to open this slumbering palace..."

"Once I refine the ninth dragon vein, I will make the Nine Cauldrons of the mortal world manifest once more. I shall inevitably become the second eleventh-realm existence in the mortal world in ten thousand years!"

"At that time, I will surely ask the Holy Master whether he truly stands above the eleventh realm!"

...

Upon Fushong Mountain.

The starlight began to gradually recede and fade away bit by bit.

A gentle rain fluttered down softly.

A figure with an exceedingly ordinary face—yet one whose appearance An Le could never manage to commit to memory—appeared beside the boulder. Smiling, he accepted the wine gourd filled with aged yellow wine from An Le's hand and took a cheerful sip.

"Of all those who have conversed with me, you alone brought wine to share, and such ordinary wine at that."

"A mouthful of wine, tasting the mortal dust of the world."

"Splendid."