Chapter Fifty-Four: Paying Respects to Mount Chisong

“Are there truly immortals? They come and go among celestial mountains, plucking treasures from the clouds, drifting lightly as if they have left the mortal world far behind!” the old man murmured, recalling a line from ancient texts that this scene before his eyes brought to life.

Beside him, Zhang Yuanyi also felt a surge of disbelief. Even a grandmaster of martial arts, who could soar through the air by channeling the forces of heaven and earth, could hardly match those figures at the horizon—walking upon the wind atop sheer cliffs thousands of fathoms high.

“Yuanyi! Yuanyi!” The old man called twice before Zhang Yuanyi snapped out of his thoughts.

“Yes? Lord Guo? I am here!”

“Let’s go! We shall pay a visit together and see whether this Chisong Mountain truly is the legendary abode of the immortals!” There was a hint of anticipation in the old man’s eyes as he patted Zhang Yuanyi’s shoulder and smiled.

Without waiting for any objections, he mounted his horse and rode at a leisurely pace toward the ancient path of Chisong Mountain. Known as the Marquis of Freedom, his nature was indeed carefree and unrestrained; now, stirred by the thrill of discovery, he cared little for caution.

Zhang Yuanyi wished to stop him, yet seeing the old man already riding off, he resigned himself and followed.

They were not far from the main peak, and soon reached the mountain’s foot. The old man gazed at the moss-covered ancient path, the verdant pines and cypresses; the scene was strikingly different from the bleakness of the surrounding ranges. He felt even more certain that some profound mystery lay concealed within Chisong Mountain.

Standing at the base, a gentle breeze seemed to encircle the mountain, but their two fine horses balked, refusing to step onto the mountain path.

Zhang Yuanyi frowned and advised, “Lord Guo, perhaps we should turn back. There’s something strange about this mountain.”

The old man waved him off. “No matter. If Da Qing and Er Qing refuse to climb, we shall go on foot. That will show our sincerity!” With that, he dismounted, unfastened a bamboo staff from his saddle, and prepared to ascend.

Zhang Yuanyi quickly dismounted as well, following close behind.

But they had not walked far before they sensed something amiss.

“Yuanyi, do you feel it? The wind here seems to be rising,” the old man remarked, puzzled.

“Yes, and it’s pushing us back, as if it doesn’t want us to climb,” Zhang Yuanyi replied, his expression grave.

“Wait here awhile, Lord Guo. Let me try first.” Zhang Yuanyi, seasoned by thirty years of wandering the martial world, had never encountered such a thing. Curiosity stirred in his heart.

He drew the ancient sword from his back—an old blade said to ward off evil. If anything unnatural lurked here, the sword might afford some protection.

Taking a few steps forward, he soon felt an invisible force pushing him back, as if the wind itself had a will, barring all entry.

His gaze sharpened. He held the sword before him, channeling his inner strength until the aura of a half-step grandmaster radiated from his form. Determined to test the wind’s resolve, he pressed on despite its resistance.

This act seemed to anger the spirit within the wind. Suddenly, the air roared and clouds above churned, scattering to reveal jagged, towering peaks. The gentle breeze became a galing force, biting and sharp as if it could strip flesh from bone. Grass, leaves, and stones rose from the ground, transforming into deadly blades whirling toward him.

“Yuanyi! Do not act rashly!” the old man shouted, alarmed. Though he stood outside the gale’s reach, he could sense the killing intent—a force of nature itself bent on destruction. Fearing that Zhang Yuanyi’s recklessness might offend some hidden master, he called out in warning.

Zhang Yuanyi, mindful of the consequences, shielded himself with his sword’s energy and withdrew to protect the old man. Though the wind was fierce, his cultivation sufficed to withstand it. But they had come in peace, not to make enemies—pressing further would only bring disaster.

As he retreated, the murderous gale dissipated, and tranquility returned to Chisong Mountain.

“What do you make of this, Yuanyi?” the old man asked gravely, stroking his beard.

“Lord Guo, I am certain there is a master dwelling within Chisong Mountain,” Zhang Yuanyi replied after a moment’s thought.

The old man sighed. “It is a pity we cannot meet them. But we came unannounced, without even sending a calling card or preparing a proper gift. It is only right that we are not received.”

Reflecting on their impulsive visit to Jinhua Prefecture and their light travel to the Daoist Palace of Chisong, he realized their lack of decorum.

“Let’s go. Since we are fated not to meet today, we shall return when we are better prepared,” he said, shaking his head, intending to depart with Zhang Yuanyi.

Just then, a loud voice echoed from the mountain:

“Who are you outside the mountain?”

They turned to see two white-haired, white-bearded Daoist priests descending from the summit, riding the wind, their voices edged with caution.

Though they had glimpsed figures flying earlier, it was only a fleeting sight; now, witnessing these Daoists riding the wind, both men were deeply awed.

The old man quickly composed himself, gently moving Zhang Yuanyi aside and greeting the Daoists with a respectful bow. “I am Guo Yi. Today, I have come with my junior in hopes of a humble visit. If we have been discourteous, I beg your forgiveness.”

Hearing this, the Daoists—Yujing and Yuyin—relaxed. They had been warned by the wind spirit that someone was forcing their way up the mountain and had hurried down, fearing an enemy. Yet now, they found only a dignified elder and his companion.

Seeing their humility and restraint, Yujing returned the greeting. “So that is the case. Forgive us for startling you just now.”

The old man smiled, stroking his beard. “Just now, seeing you two ride the wind was like glimpsing immortals. Such bearing is truly admirable! I have heard that Master Songhe is famed for his ‘Step of the Soaring Gale.’ My own knowledge is shallow, yet I wonder if that was the technique you displayed?”

Yujing shook his head. “That was not my granduncle’s martial art, merely a minor skill. Please forgive our lack of display. May I ask why you two have come to Chisong Daoist Palace?”

The old man, seeing Yujing unwilling to elaborate, let the matter pass and replied with a smile, “In two days, the Songyuan Gathering will be held. Having just arrived in Jinhua, we wished to pay our respects at the sect of Master Songhe. We did not expect to be barred by a strange wind at the mountain’s foot…”

So they truly were guests! Yujing felt a bit embarrassed. Yet the wind spirit’s obstruction meant that Junior Brother Yuchen must be occupied and unable to receive visitors.

He could only apologize, “Forgive us. Affairs in the mountain occupy us these days, and we truly cannot receive you properly. If we have been remiss, I hope you will pardon us.”

Zhang Yuanyi frowned. To think they had come all this way only to be refused entry—was Chisong Daoist Palace not a little too discourteous? Yet perhaps it was for the best; the mountain’s dangers were unknown, and it was no place for Lord Guo to risk himself. Going back seemed wise.

Just as he was about to persuade the old man to leave, a clear and joyful cry rang out from the crimson peaks above.

In its wake, clouds parted and the surrounding mountain mist dispersed. Pines and bamboos, grasses and orchids all swayed as if in celebration.

For a moment, all four present felt as though the very main peak of Chisong—and the neighboring mountains—had suddenly come alive.