Daoist Competition

Zhang Chunde traveled through the night and, by the time dawn was about to break, had already reached the foot of Gun Mang Mountain on horseback. He dismounted and tossed the reins to a servant, then raised his head and gazed at the majestic mountain range. It seemed as though he could peer through the layers of peaks and directly see into the fortress atop the mountain.

He had suddenly received an urgent summons from his father, instructing him to return to the mansion at once. However, the letter contained only a few words and did not explain the reason.

After arriving in the vicinity of Gun Mang Mountain, he overheard faintly that some estranged family member from his father’s youth had come looking for them. This person was said to be a Daoist and reportedly possessed a degree of Daoist cultivation.

He smirked. Having spent years training at Spirit Bridge Daoist Temple, his reverence for Daoists was far less than that of ordinary folk.

His master was skilled in martial arts and proficient in spells. What appeared to be mysterious ghost god techniques to commoners were hardly remarkable in his eyes. With a weapon in hand, he feared no supernatural evils and always had a way to counter them in his chest.

Strong and robust, he ascended the mountain path. Within a quarter of an hour, he had reached the fortress atop the mountain. The servants, upon seeing him, were joyful. Some attendants rushed inside, shouting, "The young Mountain Master has returned! The young Mountain Master has returned!"

Shortly thereafter, someone came out and said, "The Mountain Master invites the young Mountain Master to come inside."

Zhang Chunde nodded slightly and strode forward without looking around. When he arrived in the main hall, he saw a young Daoist and his father conversing. But with just a glance, he was struck with astonishment, thinking silently, "How can this man look so young?"

Zhang Zhan, who was mildly versed in the Qi Refining Method, appeared youthful to some extent, but his body still showed signs of aging. By all logic, this uncle should be several years older, yet this person looked no more than twenty.

Even though Spirit Bridge Daoist Palace had techniques for retaining youth and prolonging life, they could never achieve this level of effect.

Zhang Chunde speculated in his mind, "Could he be a swindler coming to dupe us?"

But then he dismissed the notion. Not only did this man bear an uncanny resemblance to Zhang Zhan, but simply glancing at the two of them, it was clear that they were of the same lineage. Moreover, in his impression, his father was an extremely shrewd man—how could he be so easily deceived?

When Zhang Zhan heard footsteps, he immediately looked up and saw his eldest son. His eyes revealed a trace of joy. However, commanding troops and managing the mansion for twenty years as a formidable frontier leader had made him deeply reserved and composed, and his words did not betray much emotion. He said solemnly, "Chunde, quickly pay your respects to your uncle."

Although Zhang Chunde had spent his youth cultivating on the mountain and shared little time with his father, he greatly admired him. Hastily stepping forward, he knelt and paid respects to Zhang Yan, lifting his robe and bowing, saying, "Nephew Zhang Chunde greets Uncle."

While he appeared to kneel, his knees never actually touched the ground, as his body was supported by the strength of his toes, demonstrating his remarkable martial prowess.

Zhang Yan noticed this slight gesture clearly but did not pay it any heed. He nodded faintly and said, "There’s no need for excessive formality. Rise."

Zhang Zhan said, "Elder brother, how do you find this child?"

Zhang Yan had only needed a single glance to discern that Zhang Chunde was a person of great fortune and blessings. He responded, "With time and refinement, this boy could take on the legacy of the second brother’s household."

Zhang Zhan was naturally delighted to hear such praise.

He was not ignorant; this elder brother, with a mere wave of his hand, had healed his body, leaving him healthier than before. Though he himself did not understand cultivation, he could still sense the steady, deep Dao Qi emanating from Zhang Yan—a presence vast like mountains and profound like still waters—far surpassing the Daoists he had encountered in the Daoist palaces.

Recalling this, Zhang Zhan hesitated for a moment before asking, "How does elder brother’s Daoist cultivation compare to those Daoists at Spirit Bridge Daoist Palace?"

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Zhang Yan smiled without saying a word.

Zhang Zhan’s eyes lit up, and he pressed further, "Then how does elder brother compare to the Daoist officials at the General’s Mansion?"

Zhang Yan finally spoke, but his tone was indifferent. "Those people are mere mundane bureaucrats, running about for their livelihood. They cannot be considered cultivators."

Rising to his feet, Zhang Zhan raised his hands respectfully and asked, "The National Guardian Master who has safeguarded the nation for two Jiazi—how does elder brother compare to him?"

Zhang Yan laughed and said, "Even with Immortal Techniques, one only saves those predestined, but without attaining immortality, it is ultimately fleeting illusion."

Zhang Zhan’s expression shifted subtly, and he spoke cautiously, "Elder brother’s Daoist skill is profound. Even Hu Daoist is far from being your match. Since there are no longer any family members residing at home, why not remain here long-term? I can establish a Daoist Temple for elder brother to be worshipped."

Zhang Yan smiled faintly and said, "I have come here only because I calculated that you are destined to face calamity, so I came specifically to save your life. For those like us in cultivation, we see Hongchen as entanglement. Having shared farewells today, it is only right to leave. From now on, the divide between mortal and immortal shall remain, and there will be no chance of reunion."