[Prologue: The Dream of Ziluo Gorge]

[Volume One]

Chapter One: Meditating in Seclusion on Mysteries · Sudden News of a Disciple's Tragic Fate

　　Ziluo Gorge stands among a cluster of peaks, perilously steep and towering. Halfway up, it is as straight as if sliced by a blade, smooth and without slope, stretching three hundred zhang from top to bottom. Looking up, it resembles a pillar holding up the sky. Even halfway up, you can see clusters of white clouds and mist swirling about. Only on rare clear days does one glimpse, above the mountainside, the faint outline of pine forests.

　　If you look through the faint purple mist shrouding Ziluo Gorge and ascend four hundred zhang, you will see that atop Ziluo Gorge, there is no mountain peak. Instead, as if cleaved by a sword, a platform appears.

　　This platform stretches several li across. Hundreds and thousands of exotic osmanthus trees are laden with golden blossoms, their rich fragrance enveloping the entire mountain. At a glance, the sea of flowers dazzles with its beauty and variety, embellishing the scene with splendor. Even more astonishing, at the center of the platform, a warm spring flows through the sea of flowers, sometimes hidden, sometimes visible, weaving in and out.

　　At the very center stands a palace built of white jade pillars, surrounded by rows of corridors and small gardens separated from the walkways. Upon entering, one sees the ground paved entirely with warm jade stones. On either side of the corridor, the small gardens are adorned with rare and exotic flowers, swaying gracefully. Every so often, there is a pavilion, within which jade tables and stone benches stand, and silver wine cups and flasks are set out.

　　At this moment, a young man is sitting in meditation in one of the small pavilions. He lets his long hair fall freely to the ground, even spreading it directly over the warm white jade.

　　He appears to be only seventeen or eighteen years old, wearing nothing but a blue robe. Yet, faintly, a pure white aura of treasure light shimmers over his skin, lending his otherwise unremarkable features an added air of radiance and vigor!

　　Moonlight, like water, bathes the mountain in a dreamlike glow, turning it into a sea of purple clouds. Amidst the immortal mists, one occasionally glimpses palatial towers, cascading waterfalls, and flowing springs, all veiled within.

　　The youth carries no magical treasures, yet the aura around him shines even brighter, spilling outward. This light is pure and flawless, reflecting the moonlight above, so that together they seem like two bright moons.

　　At this time, the youth has been sitting in meditation for seven days. He feels fullness within, something both present and absent, as if a clear stream from the heavens, like a rain of flowers, pours down upon him, cooling his body as if drinking sweet dew. His mind is clear and ethereal, and he knows he has reached the Taiqing Purple Palace, drawing down the sacred dew. If he can maintain this state, achieving the rank of Taiqing Celestial Immortal is not far off.

　　Just then, in the southern sky, a streak of purple light parts the clouds and rides the air, swift as lightning, already reaching the bounds of the mountain. Instantly, a faint purple radiance rises from the peak, followed by surging purple mist swirling and dancing. The towering Tianzhu Peak is shrouded in purple haze, with the faint sound of wind and thunder.

　　That purple light circles outside, unable to approach.

　　The youth opens his eyes, and for a moment, golden light flashes in his gaze. But soon, his eyes become deep and clear. With a thought, the refining of his nascent soul ceases, and the sacred dew of Taiqing vanishes.

　　He glances at the purple light outside, waves his hand, and the purple mist immediately parts, opening a gap. The purple light swiftly descends, landing in his hand.

　　The purple light fades, revealing a golden leaf inscribed with symbols and seals. With a gesture, the leaf transforms once more into a ball of purple light, falling to the ground and taking the form of a middle-aged Daoist.

　　The figure kneels and speaks: "Disciple Edward Foster pays respects to Master. I was cultivating peacefully in the mortal world, but fate brought calamity. A demon invited me to join him, but as a disciple of Zixia Sect and of Master Eric Bennett, how could I betray my sect? When persuasion failed, he attacked, trying to refine my nascent soul and turn me into one of his seventy-two Asura demon gods. My power was too weak to resist, so I could only fight to the death. Master, your heavenly grace, I can no longer repay. I can only bid you farewell one last time and wish you eternal peace!"

　　With these words, the purple light dissipates, slowly returning to a leaf, which, with a gust of wind, turns to ash and vanishes into the air.

　　Eric Bennett watched the leaf disappear. In this sect's Zixia cave abode, the focus is on the Dao of immortality, with its essence in cultivating the Purple Palace nascent soul. Though this is the foundation of the immortal path and, if mastered, grants profound power, before reaching mastery, the sect lacks magical treasures and techniques, and in combat, is indeed at a disadvantage.