Chapter Four: The Life of a Cultivator Is Inherently Unjust

Wuyun Fortress was an enormous faction, markedly different from other sects of immortal cultivation. Within its walls, chaos reigned—its ranks were filled with all manner of characters, both good and bad, making its ill repute well deserved. The so-called Eleven Halls of Wuyun might have sounded like simple subdivisions, but in reality, the structure was far more intricate. Thus, when the main elites of the Fourth Hall were declared dead, the first reaction of the other halls was to carve up their spoils, issuing only a perfunctory notice for pursuit and retribution.

Reputation, of course, was important. Yet practical interests mattered even more. In everyone’s eyes, Wu Yue—who had slain two Transcendence-Realm cultivators in succession—was now counted among the top-tier masters. There was no need to risk mutual destruction over mere prestige.

Among the spoils divided by the First Hall, they obtained a piece of intelligence: the Fourth Hall had inadvertently discovered a hidden realm and had recently almost pinpointed its location. The catch, however, was that it required a key to enter. Everyone in the Realm of Immortals knew that such secret realms meant certain death without a key; only with one could fortune be sought. Following the trail, they soon found the key was in Wu Yue’s possession.

All were civilized people, after all—negotiation was entirely possible. Why resort to violence? It was far better to seek wealth together. The First Hall dispatched their negotiation expert, Zhou Yihu. After many trials and obstacles, Zhou finally met with Wu Yue for a cordial discussion. Both parties agreed to uphold the principle of joint exploration of the secret realm. In any case, the true culprits behind the annihilation of the Xie family were already dead or nearly so. The First Hall also assured Wu Yue they had never acted against his interests. Thus, there were no irreconcilable differences between them.

The matter was easily settled. The two agreed to explore the secret realm together within a year, near White Bone Mountain. They vowed not to miss the appointed time.

“Young man, are you really planning to go?” Qing Yuzi’s voice echoed out. “Don’t be fooled by that man’s courtesy. If he knew your true level of cultivation right now, things would be far less friendly.”

“That’s exactly why I must keep it secret. But that’s not the problem at hand,” Wu Yue replied. “The problem is, the key is lost—I must have dropped it in Black Curtain City. Things were chaotic back then; I have no idea where it went. Sigh.”

Qing Yuzi was left speechless. Since the key was lost, why had he agreed to the deal? He’d negotiated so solemnly, even set a time and place. For once, Qing Yuzi was no longer worried that Wu Yue was naïve about the dangers of human nature.

“It’s all right, you don’t need to worry. At worst, I just won’t go. I’ll tell him the key was lost and speak plainly,” Wu Yue said, cultivating even as he spoke with Qing Yuzi. Under the persistent nagging of this wandering immortal master, Wu Yue had finally learned to cultivate while distracted—slow and steady gains. Each day, he gathered just a bit more spiritual power than others.

“Do you think he’ll believe you? You’d better look for it quickly. I don’t want you dying too young.”

“It’s the truth regardless. I’ll head down the mountain tomorrow to search for it. After that, whatever happens, happens,” Wu Yue said calmly.

“With your current fifth rank in Qi Condensation, I worry you won’t last a thousand miles—you’ll die before you even get started.”

“Then we’ll share a grave,” Wu Yue replied, nonchalant as ever. He desired so much—freedom, strength, requital, fulfillment, vengeance. Yet how many in the world attained absolute freedom or invincibility through meditation? To transcend the world, one must first experience it. Wu Yue was no longer that ignorant youth of the cultivation world.

Though Qing Yuzi mocked him at length, he did not urge Wu Yue to stay. For he too knew: fortune favors the bold, and cultivation—being the greatest fortune—must be sought even at the risk of life and death. This was only fair.

“Young man, if you truly perish on the road, I’ll have nothing more to say. Aside from a century’s cultivation experience, I can do nothing for you—or for myself. I’ll leave you only this: do not bind your true heart. The most hateful thing is misplaced compassion. Many brilliant youths of my generation died because of this. I, on the other hand, have only average talent, yet have come this far. In this world, the result often matters more than the process.”

Wu Yue heard the care in Qing Yuzi’s words—he feared Wu Yue’s excessive mercy would lead to ruin before success. What kind of person was he? Others had asked; he himself had answered: a clear conscience. But what is the heart?

Whether by nature or nurture, Wu Yue was destined to be suspicious by temperament. At most, he abided by the belief that human nature is evil at its core, but had not gone to extremes. Most of the time, he was a man of faint affections. Even when a rare surge of emotion arose, it soon faded. He was no vengeful soul, nor a paragon of virtue. Those of faint feeling cherish loyalty most, because trust comes so rarely. Not a bad man, but not a good one either; simply a young man, approaching the world with trepidation.

The two conversed happily, with no trace of deadly enmity between them.

The door creaked open. A boy and a girl entered. The boy, beaming, called out loudly, “Wu Yue, are we going down the mountain? I’ve had enough of this place!”

Wu Yue ruffled Yu Fu’s hair with a smile. “Soon. Big brother will take you to see the world.” Though Yu Fu disliked the gesture and barely understood what “seeing the world” meant, he knew it meant they would finally be able to leave.

“When we go, let’s find Xiao Xue and bring him along. He can do chores for us,” Yu Fu said. He and his nominal disciple had always bickered and needled each other; their relationship seemed dreadful but was, in truth, quite close.

Wu Yue knew that Xue Xiaoyu had come with Yu Fu, but at the time Wu Yue was unconscious. Later, for reasons of sentiment, Xue Xiaoyu had returned home to care for his parents, and so the two had yet to meet.

By now, Yu Fu was cheerfully making plans, his face alight with excitement. The girl behind him looked displeased—her face had been stern all along, and now her mood only worsened. Watching Yu Fu’s exuberance, she coughed lightly at first, then more forcefully, tapped him with a finger, and finally gave him two hard kicks.

Yu Fu turned, ready to glare, then slapped his forehead. “Oh, right, Wu Yue. We should bring her along too. Go talk to Master Yu for me—I already promised her.”

Wu Yue grinned darkly. “Yu Fu, by rights you should at least call me grandmaster. You always use my name directly, and I’ve never called you to account for it. Now you want my help after making promises on your own?”

Yu Fu scratched his head awkwardly. “We mountain folk don’t stand on such ceremony. If not, just don’t bring her.”

The girl glared at him furiously, coughing again.

“Actually, it’s not impossible to bring her,” Wu Yue said, glancing at the crabapple tree outside.