Daoist Competition

West Border of Wei Country, Gun Mang Mountain.

Within a fortress in the mountain, the Mountain Master Zhang Zhan lay half-reclined on a couch. He appeared to be in his forties, dignified in appearance, with black hair and a handsome beard. Although his cheeks were sunken and his complexion dull, making it evident that his True Body was afflicted by a grave illness, his eyes still shone with an imposing brilliance.

He first glanced at the five sons standing by his bedside. Seeing them timidly avoiding his gaze, not daring to lift their heads, a trace of disappointment flickered across his face.

His gaze slowly shifted to two middle-aged men not far away, about his same age. He sighed and said, "Brother Liang Wu, Brother Qian Tong, you two have been with me on this mountain for twenty years now, haven’t you?"

Liang Wu was momentarily startled. Then, recalling something, he sighed deeply and said, "Indeed. It was in the third year of Yongtai when the Leader led us brothers up the mountain. Now it has been exactly twenty years."

Zhang Zhan nodded slightly.

When he was seven years old, he was abducted by bandits and sold to the West Border. Later, because he pitied a dying old Daoist, he gave the man a sip of water, only for the old Daoist to gift him a copy of the Martial Arts Scripture in return, which allowed him to train in exceptional martial skills for life.

At fourteen years old, he joined the army. In just six years, he earned enough merit in battle to rise to the position of Leader. After his superior, Shangguan, was killed in war, fearing punishment upon his return, he led over three hundred subordinates on a nighttime raid against mountain bandits. After wiping them out, he settled atop Gun Mang Mountain, fortifying and building camps, proclaiming himself king of the mountain.

Fortune favored him, as they later discovered a fertile basin in the heart of the mountain capable of sustaining tens of thousands of people. Overjoyed, they began gathering refugees from far and wide.

For decades, the Hu Min and various border lordships waged endless wars. Refugees seeking protection kept growing in number, swelling his forces. Not only did he build camps on the mountain, but he also constructed over a dozen fortified outposts below, cultivating fields, collecting taxes, forging Armor and Weapons, producing strong bows and crossbows, and purchasing horses.

Today, under his rule, there are over one hundred thousand civilians and eight thousand soldiers. With ample armor, weapons, and horses, his territory spans hundreds of miles and commands a formidable presence. Even small lordships and tiny nations must rely on his favor to survive. He is well established as a major power in the region. Yet now, even such achievements cannot stave off the encroachment of illness.

Zhang Zhan sighed deeply and said, "I have grown old."

Liang Wu hurriedly retorted, "Leader, you are only forty years old! How can you speak of being old?"

Zhang Zhan said solemnly, "Liang Wu, remember this: if I die, you must take charge of all matters on the mountain."

Liang Wu was shocked and exclaimed, "Leader, how can you say such things? This is just a minor ailment. Rest and recover for a while, and you’ll be fine. How can you speak so lightly of life and death?"

Zhang Zhan chuckled wryly and replied, "I know my own body. This illness has reached its terminal stage. I won’t live much longer."

Liang Wu wanted to argue further, his lips just beginning to move, but Zhang Zhan raised a hand to stop him. As he was about to speak, a series of cries suddenly pierced the air. Zhang Zhan frowned, knowing it was his useless sons. Instantly annoyed, he shouted angrily, "Crying! What are you crying for? I’m not dead yet! Cry again, and I’ll break your legs!"

For twenty years, he had made life-and-death decisions. His anger immediately silenced his sons, who froze like frightened sparrows.

The other rugged middle-aged man near the bedside saw this scene, his heart stirring as a complicated expression flickered in his eyes.

After scolding them, Zhang Zhan seemed to feel drained. Closing his eyes to rest for a while, he then turned to Liang Wu and said, "Brother Liang, you see it clearly. My sons are all useless. If you don’t take over this mountain, who else is capable? The blood and sweat of the old brothers over the years must not go to waste."

Liang Wu firmly shook his head and said, "That is impossible! The eldest nephew is still at Spirit Bridge Daoist Palace learning martial arts. The foundation you built, Leader, ought to be handed over to him."

The "eldest nephew" he referred to was Zhang Zhan’s eldest son, Zhang Chunde. Because Zhang Zhan had been greatly assisted by a Taoist in his youth, he held them in high regard and sent this son to the Spirit Bridge Daoist Temple for martial training at a young age. He had only returned for the first time two years ago. Though only nineteen years old, none in Gun Mang Mountain could best him barehanded. When fighting with a spear, he could rival a hundred men, possessing exceptional courage and martial skill admired by all the youthful generation on Gun Mang Mountain.

Zhang Zhan suddenly turned his head and addressed the rugged man who had remained silent, "Brother Qian Tong, what do you think?"

Caught off guard, Qian Tong’s expression turned uneasy. He coughed lightly and said, "Chunde is courageous and resolute. This foundation should indeed be handed over to him."

Zhang Zhan spoke in a somber tone, "Young people are reckless. How can they command obedience from others?"

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Liang Wu raised his voice and declared, "Leader, what sort of talk is that? If you ask the eldest nephew to take over, who would dare harbor improper thoughts? I, Liang Wu, would be the first to stop them! You should focus on recovering. Once you are well, the old brothers will still follow your lead."