Chapter 349: The Celestial Master of Zhenlong Mountain
The old man chuckled and said,
“Heh, I don’t have many years left. Why give a hard time to this old bone?”
Chen Changsheng took a sip of tea and smiled,
“Alright, alright, say no more.”
The old man nodded,
“But we can’t mess up the tea payment. What’s owed is owed!”
Chen Changsheng looked at him,
“That won’t do. My travel money’s running low. You should give me a discount of one coin.”
“Heh!”
The old man exclaimed, “You dress well enough! Why act like a beggar? Trying to cheat an old man out of one coin? No way!”
Chen Changsheng replied,
“Then I might have to tell people about you and your past…”
“You…you…you!”
The old man flicked his sleeve,
“Fine, fine! It’s one coin less for you.”
“Much obliged,”
Chen Changsheng smiled.
The old man gave him a disapproving look,
“Now don’t come back.”
He made a shooing motion.
Yet Chen Changsheng sat unmoved,
“Aren’t I allowed to finish my tea?”
The old man sighed in defeat,
“Drink, drink it.”
Chen Changsheng smiled warmly, then turned his gaze to the street.
“Old man, after Great Jing fell, did battles break out here too?”
“No idea.”
“Ah, how stingy.”
“You truly have no shame,”
The old man rolled his eyes.
Chen Changsheng downed the tea in one go.
He stood up and waved,
“I’m off now. I’ll visit again later.”
The old man urged,
“Go, go quickly.”
Chen Changsheng wandered through Qingshan City. He noticed many fortune-telling Daoist Priests lining the streets.
Most had mats spread on the ground, signs saying “Iron Oracle” or simply “Divine Fortune,” all dressed like Daoist Priests.
Clever folks knew these were fakes.
Still, people paid for readings because these “fortune-tellers” only spoke flattering words. Speaking ill risked a beating.
Qingshan City folk have always been straight like that.
Chen Changsheng strolled on, unbothered. The fortune-tellers were fakes, but not outrageous.
Then he suddenly saw one figure and froze.
Chen Changsheng paused. Then he walked over.
The youth looked up. His lips were red, his teeth white.
“Recluse, would you like a fortune reading? Only five coins.”
Chen Changsheng crouched before the mat,
“You’re so young. How skilled could you be?”
The Young Taoist blinked,
“Three coins would do.”
Chen Changsheng couldn’t help but smile,
“I need no fortune. I just want to ask about that Daoist robe you wear. Where did you get it?”
The youngster wore a violet robe embroidered with sacred Taoist symbols: sun, moon, stars, pagodas, dragons, phoenixes, divine cranes—no ordinary garment.
The Young Taoist glanced down at his robe,
“Master gave it to me. Why?”
Chen Changsheng stated,
“From what I recall, robes like this can only be worn by Grand Masters presiding over major Temple rituals.”
The little Priest nodded,
“You know more than most.”
Chen Changsheng pressed,
“If you knew that, why wear it for street fortune-telling?”
The Young Taoist confessed,
“I had nothing else to wear. Couldn’t sell this either. So I wore it outside.”
“I see…”
For a moment, Chen Changsheng seemed lost in thought.
He asked slowly,
“Golden robes signify personal mastery. Purple robes honor ancestral glory. Who is your Master?”
The little Priest answered respectfully,
“This humble Daoist is Wang Yu of Zhenlong Mountain. Disciple of Celestial Master Xuan Di. May I ask your name, Recluse?”
“Xuan Di…”
Chen Changsheng frowned as if trying to remember. He raised a hand, fingers moving faintly. Then his eyes widened in surprise.
“He’s still alive?”
Chen Changsheng murmured in disbelief.
Wang Yu blinked, startled,
“You know my Master?”
“Perhaps,”
Chen Changsheng offered a vague smile,
“We crossed paths long ago. Briefly.”
The little Priest leaped to his feet,
“You truly knew him?”
Chen Changsheng nodded.
Wang Yu couldn’t tell for sure. His Master had never spoken of the past.
Chen Changsheng requested,
“Could you take me to meet him?”
The Young Taoist hesitated, shifting uneasily.
Seeing his doubt, Chen Changsheng simply said,
“I can find him alone.”
“Ah?”
Wang Yu gasped, looking up just as the man turned away.
To his shock, the man walked purposefully toward the distant mountains.
Wang Yu scrambled up, shouting after him.
“Wait for me!”
“Hey—you…do you even know where to go?”
Chen Changsheng pointed without breaking stride,
“Isn’t it right there?”
“You won’t find it,”
Wang Yu insisted, catching up.
Chen Changsheng smiled,
“A Temple sits in the cavern behind the mountain. Correct?”
Wang Yu froze mid-step.
“How in the…”
“Let’s go,”
Mr. Chen grabbed Wang Yu under the arm. Instantly, the Young Taoist felt his feet leave the ground.
Lightly touching the ground with his toes, Chen Changsheng sped toward Zhenlong Mountain at breathtaking speed.
Wang Yu, strangely unpanicked, seemed more fascinated than scared.
“Your Lightweight Skill is incredible!”
“Lightweight skill?”
Chen Changsheng chuckled softly but didn’t explain.
Let the boy think what he would.
Wang Yu noticed how Mr. Chen carried him effortlessly over miles without missing a breath.
He exclaimed,
“We must have traveled over twenty miles! Aren’t you tired?”
Instead of answering, Chen Changsheng moved faster.
“W-whoa! Slow down!”
Wang Yu struggled to regulate his breathing, bracing himself against the rhythmic sway of Mr. Chen’s movement to stay steady.
In mere moments, they stood at the foot of Zhenlong Mountain.
The speed left Wang Yu speechless.
“You’re the strongest martial expert I’ve ever seen!”
Chen Changsheng warned,
“The mountain path is bumpy. Brace yourself.”
Wang Yu paled,
“N-no need! I can walk by mysel—”
Ignoring protests, Chen Changsheng tightened his grip and leaped up the mountainside.
Calm all journey, Wang Yu finally cried out as the wind tore past them.
“S-slow! Slow down!”
Within breaths, Chen Changsheng landed in the mountain’s shadow. The cave entrance yawned ahead.
Thump.
Wang Yu staggered, dizzy and disoriented. He swayed, unable to reorient himself for a long while.
Chen Changsheng left him behind, striding straight into the cave.
Xuan Di still lived. And by now, he must be ancient.
Chen Changsheng walked deeper into the dim cavern. Faint light revealed a stone bed.
A figure sat perfectly still upon it—snow-white hair framing a face lost beneath cascading white eyebrows.
Chen Changsheng paused.
A soft sound echoed:
Drip-drop.
The wizened figure on the stone bed opened his eyes.
His skin hung like crumpled paper, as if a breeze might extinguish his life.
When Xuan Di saw Chen Changsheng’s face, his frail chest hitched once.
Chen Changsheng spoke softly into the shadows,
“It’s been a long time.”