Chapter 67: A Farewell to Luoyang

Cultivating the Dao is an endeavor that demands both aspiration and relentless effort. On one hand, it requires extraordinary innate talent and constitution; on the other, it calls for an indomitable will. One must also survive the treacherous world of cultivation. Finally, access to rare treasures of heaven and earth and the backing of a powerful sect are not insignificant factors.

Yet the rewards are immense. Not only does one gain keen senses and a clear mind, but also the ability to soar through the skies, traverse the earth, and enjoy prolonged life.

With all this said, we must turn to the awkward predicament confronting Wu Yue and Zhou Qilin. The two of them now possessed a level of bodily immunity that bordered on the absurd. For instance, being immune to ordinary alcohol might seem like a marvelous skill—at the very least, there would be no need to fear being caught for drunk driving.

But now, it brought nothing but vexation. They had agreed not to leave until drunk, but the wine was gone and they remained as alert as ever, their eyes bright, their minds utterly clear—no trace of dizziness at all. They could have climbed not just six flights of stairs, but six hundred, without breaking a sweat.

As for Wang De, he awoke and was drunk again, and repeated the cycle twice more before finally collapsing to the ground in a deep slumber.

“My mother says the good wine is gone; there’s only some yellow wine left. Would you two uncles like some?” asked the boy, with a hint of timidity.

Wu Yue and Zhou Qilin exchanged a glance, first smiling wryly, then bursting into hearty laughter. Their spirits had reached their peak—what more could one ask?

Wu Yue stood and beckoned to the still somewhat nervous child. “Since you call me uncle, I ought to give you a meeting gift. Yet, aside from my cultivation, I possess nothing of value. So I shall grant you long life.” With that, Wu Yue placed his right hand atop the boy’s head, forcibly cleansing him with spiritual energy.

His task done, he said, “Brother Qilin, may we one day meet again and share another fine drink.”

With these words, he stepped into the air and departed.

“Brother Wu, you’re drunk. Flying is forbidden in Luoyang,” Zhou Qilin murmured to himself.

The boy, having received such a tremendous boon, stood wide-eyed, staring at the sky in utter astonishment.

Zhou Qilin smiled freely. “Your uncle was so generous—I can’t afford to be stingy. Take this fan; in present-day Luoyang, it’s worth a certain amount of respect.” With that, he too transformed into a streak of rainbow light and vanished. “It seems I’m drunk as well.”

The boy was left dumbfounded once more.

After a long while, a woman in her thirties lifted the curtain and asked, “Tiger, have those two drunkards left yet?”

The boy, still reeling in shock, replied, “Mother, I don’t think you should have hidden that jar of Jian Nan Chun.”

Wang De, who had run a small inn all his life, had at last made the acquaintance of two truly remarkable friends.

At the city gates, seven or eight young men in blue robes and brocade garments, faces full of indignation, confronted Sun Taolue, who was dressed in armor. “Why is it that man can fly, but we cannot? Is the general showing favoritism toward Dao Valley?”

Sun Taolue replied expressionlessly, “It depends on the person. I couldn’t stop that man if I tried. If you’re dissatisfied, kill him. After that, you may fly at will in Luoyang.”

“Very well! As long as the general keeps his word,” they said, splitting into two groups. Two entered the city to seek reinforcements, the others left the city.

“General, will this cause trouble?” a deputy general asked. “Dao Valley is dominant now, and recently its master was even appointed as Grandmaster of the Divine Blade.”

“What trouble? If they can pull it off, I’ll keep my word. It’s time they learned there are always stronger people in this world,” Sun Taolue replied coolly.

“Who is that man, anyway?” the deputy general asked, intrigued.

“He is the number one young talent of Qin,” Sun Taolue answered.

“Uh… Have you been waiting long?” Wu Yue asked, looking at the white-robed Ren Ruyi before him. The crown prince hadn’t even met with Ren Ruyi, but had graciously granted her a pardon.

“I’ve been waiting for you almost a full day and night,” Ren Ruyi replied, her face expressionless.

Wu Yue laughed awkwardly. “Is there something you need?”

“No. I had intended to thank you, but now I’ve changed my mind. If you wish, you may visit Dragon Snow Mountain in the future.” With that, Ren Ruyi turned and left.

Wu Yue was baffled, finding Ren Ruyi’s behavior quite odd today.

At that moment, a group of blue-robed youths came over, crowding around a man. “Senior brother, it’s him!”

“I am Chen Kaiyuan of Dao Valley,” declared the young man in the center, brimming with pride.

Wu Yue thought carefully and was sure he’d never met this person. After a pause, he replied, “Is there something I can do for you, fellow cultivator? My name is Wu Yue.”

“Heh, lately I’ve gained some insights—wait, your name is Wu Yue?” Chen Kaiyuan’s expression shifted as if he’d seen a ghost.

Wu Yue nodded. “Indeed.”

“Oh, then you’re the one.” Chen Kaiyuan’s demeanor changed at once to one of “I’ve found you at last,” and the others followed suit, brimming with murderous intent.

“Brother Wu, I’ve always admired you. Should you ever have time, do visit Dao Valley. I promise you a warm welcome!” Chen Kaiyuan said.

Wu Yue was momentarily stunned; so were the other disciples of Dao Valley—this wasn’t the script! Senior brother, did you bring the wrong lines?

Wu Yue first looked enlightened, then his expression suddenly changed. “I must take my leave!” he said hurriedly.

Chen Kaiyuan could not have wished for anything better. “Safe travels, Brother Wu!”

Wu Yue gathered his spiritual power and sped away.

Just then, an old man rushed out of the city gate, bellowing, “You brat, stop right there!” He struck out with his palm, sending a surge of spiritual energy after Wu Yue. Remembering his previous advice, Wu Yue felt a pang of guilt, countered the energy, and vanished into the horizon.

The collision of their mighty spiritual energies alone sent the Dao Valley disciples staggering.

Chen Kaiyuan sighed, “Now you understand.”

One disciple, still shaken, asked, “Senior brother, who is he really?”

“He was the champion of the Jade Bowl Banquet, one of the seven survivors of the Garden of Longevity—rumor has it he wrought havoc there. Later, he was defeated by a single move from the palace’s top worshipper, Flame Daozi.”

A chorus of gasps followed, and then frantic shaking of heads. “No more provocations; we submit!”

At that moment, an elderly man in a purple robe—Chen Yankun—arrived, his face dark. “So the scoundrel escaped again.” He glared at Chen Kaiyuan and the others. “Was it you lot who insisted on flying in Luoyang? Do you seek to challenge the Great Qin’s laws?”

“I’ll be sure to ask Master Liu Shendao what sort of disciples he’s teaching.”

Just then, several hurried passersby went by, indistinguishable from ordinary folk, yet whispering quietly, “It’s confirmed—Wu Yue is the son of Xie Lingyun, disciple of the Divine Dao Sect, from all those years ago.”

Wu Yue continued southward, bound for White Cloud City, intent on visiting the mentors and friends of his youth.

Whenever he encountered a mountain, he crossed it; when he met a river, he forded it. The reason was simple: he always took the shortest path. From time to time, encountering sacred mountains and grand rivers, Wu Yue would pause to hone his primordial energy—for his body had not yet transcended the mortal realm.

It was only now that Wu Yue realized just how complicated the notion of abundant spiritual energy could be.

Emerging from a remote mountain, Wu Yue wore a wry smile; the path to transcending the mortal body was still far ahead.