Chapter 1: Master Is Gone at the Start

Wu Zhou.

Ningzhou, Dongyang County, north of Langyu Town.

The green mountains are hazy, clouds and mist linger, and from afar, the undulating ridges seem to have cloud dragons and water fish weaving through them, like a few strokes of diluted ink spreading out, the artistic conception leaping off the page.

Though not a sacred mountain or a land of spiritual veins, it is rich in spirit bamboo, and because the mountain has nine peaks, it is named Jiuzhu Mountain, which is quite well-known in Ningzhou.

Climbing up the mossy stone steps through the forest, you can find an unremarkable Daoist temple on an equally unremarkable peak.

Weathered by wind and rain, the outer walls of the temple are cracked, the plaque is nowhere to be seen, the front yard is overgrown with weeds, and in the center, a lush green plant mound rises...

Look closely and you’ll find this is not a potted plant at all, but a tripod-shaped incense burner, long neglected and overtaken by greenery.

To take back what was said before, this Daoist temple is not entirely unremarkable—at the very least, the traces of time are visible everywhere.

“Disciple, your master’s time is almost up, I won’t be in this world much longer. Let me leave you a few simple last words, listen carefully...”

In the backyard under an old tree, an old man and a young man sit on the ground. The old Daoist, with white hair and a childlike face, looks energetic as he strokes his goatee: “No need to be sad. Birth, aging, sickness, and death are part of life. Don’t put on a weepy display.”

Across from him, the young man raises his hand to wipe the corner of his slightly dry eyes and nods heavily: “Alright.”

“Don’t worry. Though my days are numbered, I’ve already sent word to your senior sister James White. She will guide you carefully in your cultivation. Thirty years ago, she was the top disciple of the Lingxiao Sword Sect. I imagine now...”

“Speaking of the Lingxiao Sword Sect, I do miss it. What a pity. If I hadn’t accidentally gravely injured the sect leader back then, I would definitely want to go back for a last look before I die.”

“Forget it, times have changed, no point talking about these things...”

“……”

An hour later, the young man blinked in confusion, looking at the dying man who was still talking non-stop, and secretly stretched his stiff legs.

What the heck, he said he’d leave a few simple last words, but the more he talks, the more energetic he gets?

Could it really be a ghost?

“By the way, disciple.”

Perhaps realizing he was rambling, the old Daoist coughed lightly into his fist, his expression turning serious: “I know you didn’t want to become my disciple and you have some resentment about it, but I truly didn’t deceive you. With your talent, it would be a shame not to cultivate.”

The young man’s mouth twitched. Forgive him for being straightforward and clever since childhood, but it was obvious the old Daoist had one foot in the grave, knew his time was short, and just randomly picked a lucky bystander.

And he just happened to be nearby.

“Right, disciple, I...”

The old Daoist coughed several times, raising his sleeve to cover half his face: “Time is short. I was in a hurry before and forgot to ask your name... uh, what’s your name?”

Brian Clark: “……”

Not in a hurry—just reminiscing about the past took you two hours straight.

“Virtuous disciple?!”

“Brian Clark.”

“Good name. I am Henry Grant, the head of the Yuhua Sect on Sanqing Peak of Jiuzhu Mountain. After I die, you will inherit the position of sect leader.”

The old Daoist glossed over the awkwardness, raised his hand to gesture around, trying to restore the earlier seriousness: “I’m sure you’ve noticed, this place is blessed with outstanding people and land—this is the Yuhua Sect of Sanqing Peak. From today on, you are in charge.”

Brian Clark: “……”

So, the “outstanding people” refers to him, and the “blessed land” means the lush vegetation?

If that’s the case, it’s hard to argue.

Obviously, Henry Grant’s struggle was futile. When the two exchanged names, any sense of seriousness was gone, and this so-called blessed Yuhua Sect only made things more awkward.

The two stared at each other for a while before Henry Grant explained that he was restless by nature and spent years traveling outside, so it was perfectly reasonable and logical for the place to be overgrown.

“Alright, disciple, enough nonsense. My time really is running out.”

Seeing that Brian Clark looked ready to bolt, Henry Grant pulled a qiankun pouch from his robe, grabbed his hand, and shoved it over, speaking rapidly: “The sect leader’s seal and the land deed are inside. There’s also a copy of [Embryonic Breathing and Qi Supplementation Technique], which I obtained in the far west of Kunlun. Though the method is unconventional, its concept is profound—a rare and extraordinary book. My cultivation is too high to practice it now, but you, as a beginner, are just...”

Halfway through, Henry Grant’s eyes lost their luster, his grip on Brian Clark’s hand loosened, and he fell silent without a sound.

It happened so suddenly that Brian Clark couldn’t believe it. Just moments ago, Henry Grant was full of energy, rambling for two hours, and now he was gone. Brian Clark raised his hand and placed two fingers under his nose.

With that test—

Pa!