Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Forty-Five: Come With Me

“Come with me”—these four words were renowned throughout the Daoyuan Continent.

The reason was simple: these four words had been recorded in the Daoist Canon on several occasions, twice in connection with the four most legendary figures of the land.

In the seventy-seventh year of the Kangle Era, the Tang Dynasty was at its zenith, its power no less than that of the present Divine Dynasty; even the great sects were subject to the court’s authority. During this time, after Du Gu Feiyun failed to condense his Foundation at the Crimson Qilin Pavilion, he encountered the Sword Saint of the Snowcloud Sect on his journey home.

The Sword Saint spoke a single sentence to the seven-year-old Du Gu Feiyun, who had just come of age.

"The winds of court and wild are fierce, the world beyond is serene and distant—would you come with me?"

Du Gu Feiyun agreed. That journey lasted three years. At its end, Du Gu Feiyun reformed his Foundation, seized first place among Tang Dao cultivators with the strength of the Primordial Unity Realm, and from that day forth, was undefeated.

In the hundredth year of the Kangle Era, the Demon Clan swept south for the first time. Their armies were invincible, their Demon Lord peerless. The northern border forces of the Tang Dynasty lasted only a month before suffering defeat after defeat, their retreat ending at the gates of Chang’an.

Chang’an was besieged by the Demon Clan for three years. In those years, parents ate their children to survive; of ten citizens, less than one remained. The strong were nearly wiped out, and supplies were exhausted.

Wei Sanmu returned from the Southern Sea and encountered Li Jin Xing, who was telling fortunes in Guangnan City.

Wei Sanmu said a single sentence to Li Jin Xing, who had not yet set foot on the path of cultivation.

“The Demon Clan brings chaos, the Human Race faces peril—would you come with me?”

Li Jin Xing agreed. Using books as his path, he attained unity with the Dao on the spot. Together, the two forced the Demon Lord to retreat and lifted the siege of Chang’an. Li Jin Xing gathered the scattered armies along the way, reclaimed lost ground overnight, and pursued the enemy three hundred miles into the icy plains. But lacking supplies and favorable conditions, he had no choice but to withdraw in sorrow.

Now, as the refined man brought up this phrase, Feng Yang could not discern his intent.

He pondered; whichever meaning it carried, it would result in a deviation from his plans.

But since this plan was devised before he arrived at Mount Taixuan, variables were inevitable, and some error was acceptable.

Just as he hesitated, a clear, hearty laugh rang out. At the end of the mountain path appeared a middle-aged man in white robes—at first distant, but in two steps, he stood before them.

“Now that he has joined the Zhu Yuan Martial Gathering, he is a disciple of Mount Taixuan—how could he just come and go at will?” the newcomer chuckled. “Mingde, you have served by my side for over a century, counted among the Seven Elders of Daoming Monastery—do you not understand even this rule?”

So the refined man’s Daoist name was Mingde.

All disciples who entered Mount Taixuan received a Daoist title—names beginning with Ming, Zhi, Shou, Yu, and so on. The “Ming” title was the most esteemed, reserved for the founders of the various peaks or the sect’s Dao Children.

Feng Yang finally pieced together their relationships. He gazed at the newcomer in shock. “The Abbot of Daoming Monastery?”

Mount Taixuan, rivaling the Snowcloud Sect as a great cultivation school, also boasted two supreme cultivators. However, the Abbot of Daoming Monastery was known for his aloofness; he never involved himself in sect affairs and was more a symbol than a leader.

But his presence here proved he was not as detached as people believed—at least not now.

The Abbot smiled at Feng Yang. “So young and green, yet you bear ambition as boundless as the clouds; with such rare talent, you could reach the heavens themselves.”

Feng Yang was just sixteen, indeed young and brimming with youthful ambition. Despite being born with the Ten Severed Meridians, he had come here to seek a path to defy fate—a testament to his indomitable will. Yet the Ten Severed Meridians were universally known as crippled veins; embarking on the path of cultivation was near impossible, let alone achieving greatness. What talent was there to speak of?

There were only two ways to restore the Dao path for one with the Ten Severed Meridians.

First, through transplantation and refinement, coaxing life into deadwood, and breaking through by force.

Second, by using the power of a Unity cultivator to forcibly open the blocked meridians. But this method bordered on rewriting fate itself; only those with unyielding resolve could endure it. Failure brought, at best, mental derangement, at worst, death and utter annihilation.

Mingde said, “Does the Abbot intend to use the power of the heavens?”

The Abbot replied, “To defy fate is no small matter—I would be entangled in karma at the slightest misstep. I cannot afford to fall now, and so I will not attempt it.”

“Then it would be better for the boy to come with me,” Mingde said.

The Abbot gazed at Mingde for a long moment, then rolled his eyes slowly.

Feng Yang was astonished. A figure at the pinnacle of the Dao could show such an expression?

Mingde understood the Abbot’s meaning, looked regretfully at Feng Yang, and walked down the mountain, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

“Where is he going?” Feng Yang muttered in confusion.

The Abbot shook his head and said, “Follow me.”

Before Feng Yang could react, the world spun, and in an instant, he found himself in a tranquil courtyard.

It was a simple four-sided house, not large. In the yard stood an ancient cypress thick enough that four people together could not encircle it. Beneath it was a pavilion with a stone table, a chessboard laid upon it, and two stone stools.

Is this the dwelling of the mightiest in the world? Feng Yang wondered in silence.

The arrangement seemed oddly familiar, and realization dawned upon him.

“Having lived so many years and seen so much complexity, I have come to prefer simplicity,” the Abbot said calmly.

“Perhaps that is the true meaning of the Dao—supreme simplicity?” Feng Yang asked.

The Abbot laughed softly and shook his head. “The Dao is far more complex than you imagine. ‘Supreme simplicity’—it does not refer to this.”

“Then what does it mean?” Feng Yang pressed.

The Abbot waved his hand.

A surge of pure vital energy coursed into Feng Yang’s body.

He felt a warm current rushing through his meridians—instantly, all his blocked channels were cleared. His overflowing blood and energy began to flow gently, and his body started instinctively absorbing the vital force of heaven and earth. In a breath, it circulated throughout him. The excess blood and energy pooled in his lower abdomen, radiating a gentle warmth. Just as he prepared to savor this sensation, the warmth vanished, replaced by a stabbing pain beyond words—enough to nearly tear him into unconsciousness. He forced himself to endure it, face pale, drenched in cold sweat.

“If I were to clear your Ten Severed Meridians with this method, that would be supreme simplicity. But I will not do so,” said the Abbot. “And if I truly chose that path, the pain you just felt would be but a drop in the ocean.”

Feng Yang was silent for a moment, then asked, “You mentioned that defying fate brings karmic entanglement…”

The Abbot said, “To rewrite fate is to be enmeshed in cause and effect.”

Feng Yang asked, “Then what do you intend, sir?”

The Abbot replied, “The Dao is as deep as an abyss. I wish to take you as my disciple… The road ahead is long and distant—will you come with me?”

Feng Yang suddenly looked up, meeting the Abbot’s gaze. The Abbot smiled gently, his eyes as clear as a tranquil lake.

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