Chapter Forty-One: Opening the Mountain, Guarding the Mountain, The Boy Overlooked in the Sunlight

For most cultivators in Lin’an Prefecture, the Sixth Mountain Lord’s decision to open the mountain and select a guardian was an event of great significance. Though the vast majority of them could hardly grasp such a remote possibility, the mere existence of this opportunity was enough to kindle hope. The chill of early spring, borne on the rain, lingered at the mountain’s foot, and the abundance of trees and grass made the cold even sharper among the slopes. Yet at the base of the mountain, the atmosphere was ablaze with excitement. The cultivators’ blood and energy surged, rising like a roaring furnace, driving away the lingering cold of spring.

Sumptuous carriages, one after another, stood parked on the level ground below the mountain. The coachmen, all clad in rain capes and straw hats, sat in orderly silence atop their carriages, not daring to glance about. On the mountain path, some cultivators, their spirits cast wide, darted forward with swift footwork through the spring rain, splashing mud and water as they hurried to attend. It may not have been a contest of a hundred boats vying for the lead, but the scene was lively enough.

These cultivators came from various distinguished backgrounds: disciples of sects surrounding Lin’an Prefecture, chivalrous wanderers, and talented scions of prominent local families. Among them were the sons and daughters of martial clans such as the House of Ye, the House of Lin, and the House of Zhong, as well as the offspring of high officials—chancellors, ministers, dukes—who all braved the rain to be present. Should one win the favor of the Sixth Mountain Lord and gain entry to the Sacred Mountain, it would be an ascent to the heavens, and their entire family would reap considerable benefit. With a connection to the Sacred Mountain, their status throughout the Zhao Empire would rise immeasurably.

Such was the influence of the Sacred Mountain.

Even the royal clan of Great Zhao had chosen to send their heirs. For the princes of Zhao, some still hoped to earn a place in the Sacred Mountain, even if only as mountain guardians. Of course, even if unsuccessful, witnessing the opening of the mountain was itself a rare honor.

Below the mountain, the extravagant carriages gathered, their ornate eaves and canopies blooming under the misty rain like clusters of spring blossoms. One particularly opulent carriage stood parked beneath a peach tree, whose blossoms, knocked loose by the rain, clung poetically to the roof.

Inside the carriage, a charcoal brazier boiled hot water. On the table, there was the finest West Lake Dragon Well tea. Young Lord Qin, resplendent in embroidered robes, sat upright, facing Luo Qingchen, who had changed into scholarly attire.

“I hadn’t thought, Mr. Luo, that you would seek to become the mountain’s guardian. I assumed you would persist until you saw the Sage himself,” said Young Lord Qin, personally pouring Luo Qingchen a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea, the emerald leaves rising and falling in the blue-and-white porcelain cup.

Luo Qingchen gazed for a long while at the tea before him, then smiled lightly. “Becoming a guardian still offers a chance to meet the Sage, so long as I fulfill the three conditions set by the First Mountain Lord. There is no conflict.”

“It is only that you will lose the opportunity to become Mountain Lord,” Qin replied.

“Indeed. There are records in history of guardians meeting the Sage. Mr. Luo, your determination is admirable. I raise my tea as a toast, wishing you every success and a swift ascent.” Qin clapped his hands and lifted his cup, taking a sip.

As an advisor to the Qin Chancellor’s household, Luo Qingchen’s success as a guardian would greatly benefit the family. Previously, Luo’s spiritual heart had been clouded by Hua Jie Bing’s sword intent, which had left Qin Qianqiu somewhat displeased. Now that Luo was willing to humble himself and compete for the role of guardian, Qin Qianqiu was naturally eager.

“Of all the cultivators gathered for the Sixth Mountain today, Mr. Luo, your cultivation is unmatched. Ye Wenxi and Ye Yinping from the House of Ye are here as well, though their skills do not equal yours. Gifted as they are, they’re unlikely to vie for guardian—most likely they’re here for the spectacle.”

“On your level, you need only worry about two people.”

Qin Qianqiu drank his tea, watching Luo Qingchen as he gently stroked a short sword.

Luo Qingchen lifted his gaze slightly, and Qin continued, “One is Zhong Shunchao of the Zhong family. Though his spirit hasn’t reached the fifth realm, his body-forging has surpassed it. His archery is masterful, and he ranks tenth among the Temple of Martial Valor’s fierce generals.”

Luo Qingchen’s lips curled in disdain.

Qin tapped his finger on the table. “The second is Ye Chong of the Ye family. His cultivation is on par with Zhong Shunchao’s, and he is ranked ninth among the fierce generals. Both the Zhong and Ye families are uneasy about the Lin family’s situation, so they hope to produce a guardian as a safety net.”

He laughed softly. “The Lin family has declined. As for talent, the only one who might compete is that maid who wields a fire poker—hardly a threat.”

“So your chances are excellent, Mr. Luo,” Qin concluded, his eyes bright with hope for Luo Qingchen.

Luo Qingchen smiled quietly as he sipped his tea.

Suddenly, both men turned to gaze out the carriage window.

“Open the mountain!”

A calm voice rang out from the lofty green mountain, swift as lightning behind the clouds.

Thunder’s echo lingered, and the wind carried soft whispers.

It was as if a surge of sword energy swept across the foothills. The misty rain and thick clouds shrouding the sky were split down the middle, transformed into a curtain gently drawn aside by invisible hands.

Brilliant sunlight shone upon the sparkling raindrops, illuminating the mountain’s base and forming a radiant avenue of new grass, tender flowers, and scattered peach petals—a golden path stretching toward the distant mountain road and an approaching ornate carriage.

The many cultivators at the foot of the mountain, bathed in spring rain, stared in astonishment at the distant carriage.

“The Lin family’s carriage!”

Someone recognized it: each powerful household’s carriage bore a distinctive mark.

The Mountain Lord opened the mountain, tearing apart the mist and rain, and the path of golden sunlight poured down from the heavens, unfurling directly upon the carriage’s route.

Was it mere coincidence?

Many could not help but wonder.

Upon seeing the Lin family carriage, Young Lord Qin’s face turned cold.

“Unless the Lin family’s prodigious heir, the one born to the Prince of Yuanmeng, has returned from the empire, they have no one capable of contending for the guardian’s position. This golden light is mere coincidence—the carriage just happens to be on the path as the mountain opens,” Qin Qianqiu said icily.

Luo Qingchen gazed toward the carriage, furrowing his brow.

He saw the carriage rolling on beneath the sunlight, crushing peach petals into the dust, until it halted at the mountain’s foot.

Under the watchful gazes of the crowd, the curtain was lifted.

Lin Zhuifeng, a fire poker at his waist, leapt from the carriage.

Countless eyes fell upon him. Most of the nobility recognized Lin Zhuifeng of the Lin family and many exhaled in relief.

Qin Qianqiu sneered, draining his cup of hot Dragon Well tea, unimpressed.

Then, another figure alighted from the carriage.

Lin Qingyin, gentle and serene, lifted her skirt and stepped down, her picturesque features drawing the attention of several young cultivators.

At last, a young man in white, a tattered bamboo sword at his waist, descended quietly.

He was strikingly handsome, but no one recognized him, so the crowd quickly lost interest.

Yet there was one exception.

Inside the Qin carriage, Luo Qingchen’s eyes sharpened as he studied the youth, then lowered his gaze.

“Just a weakling, with little more than body tempering and initial spirit foundation. Even he dares dream of entering the Sacred Mountain? If I ascend, he will surely be ground to dust,” Luo murmured.

He looked down at his hand holding the teacup.

For some reason, the green tea in the cup trembled, sending ripples across its surface.

...

Anle stepped from the carriage, silently taking his place beside Lin Zhuifeng and Lin Qingyin.

The dazzling sunlight, having parted the clouds and rain, fell directly onto his face, making him squint slightly.

He surveyed the scene; so many cultivators filled him with a sense of awe and delight.

In his eyes, each cultivator was wreathed in the aura of passing years, swaying like seaweed, as if beckoning to him.

The Mountain Lord’s words still echoed across the foothills like thunder.

The avenue of sunlight stretched up toward the lofty green mountain, and though many cultivators’ hearts surged with excitement, none dared take the first step.

For a time, the atmosphere at the mountain’s foot was strangely quiet.

Outside, the spring rain fell with the soft patter of an hourglass.

At length, someone moved.

A surge of hot blood, like a coiling dragon, swept aside the spring rain. A young man in armor, a black iron bow slung across his back, strode through the rain, breaching the curtain of water as he stepped onto the sunlit path.

He followed the golden road to the misty base of the mountain.

Raising his head, he clasped his hands in salute, and spoke in a voice that rang out like ancient bronze bells, echoing among the peaks.

“Zhong Shunchao of the Zhong family, willing to serve as guardian.”

His overwhelming vigor swept aside wind and rain.

All the cultivators present looked up—some in awe, some sharp-eyed, some resigned.

Anle’s eyes sparkled; such heroic presence was impressive. It was a pity he had already exhausted his opportunity to draw upon the aura of years today, or he would surely have tried to absorb it.

After Zhong Shunchao, the stillness was broken as another stepped forward. Also clad in armor, his cloak flying, he held a golden tiger-headed spear slanted at his side. With a single stride, he shot ahead, his blood energy like a spear’s gleam, pressing down on Zhong’s presence as he took his place on the sunlit road.

“Ye Chong of the Ye family, willing to serve as guardian.”

His voice, too, overwhelmed the gentle wind and rain, resounding like a tiger’s roar in an empty valley.

The two stood at the foot of the mountain, as if blocking the way with twin peaks, making it difficult for others to even summon the courage to compete for the guardian’s position.

These were fierce generals, ranked in the Temple of Martial Valor—sharp and formidable!

Inside the Qin carriage, Luo Qingchen no longer sat still, his tea still warm.

He lifted the curtain and stepped out. His scholarly robes billowed, a sword’s silver light encircling him. Sword energy swirled about his form as he drifted from the foot of the mountain.

His boundless spirit swept like a sudden storm, suppressing even the fierce generals’ mighty blood energy.

Bathed in sword light, Luo Qingchen gazed up at the pavilion halfway up the mountain, cupped his fists in salute, and smiled with confidence.

“Luo Qingchen of Qingzhou, willing to serve as guardian.”