Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Forty-Four: The Forgotten Top Scholar

The remnants of the setting sun spilled generously through the clouds, bathing the Taixuan Mountains in a warm, gentle glow. The lush You’an trees were steeped in this soft light, as if draped in robes woven from the evening’s radiance. Their broad leaves blocked the sun’s rays, but through the gaps, one could glimpse a stone staircase paved with blue flagstones, stretching upward from the mountain’s base, winding away toward infinity.

Along this staircase echoed the rhythmic clatter of wooden buckets. A young man, clad in a loose azure Daoist robe, was carrying two buckets nearly half his own height, making his way up the steps. He hummed a northern folk tune, its name unknown.

This was Feng Yang. It had been nearly twenty days since he arrived at the Taixuan Mountains.

On his third day, he had participated in the Zhu Yuan Martial Tournament, the contest for new outer disciples. In his first three matches, he needed only a single spear strike to claim victory. The subsequent battles proved more arduous; he faced formidable opponents from every province. Without employing his true strength, victory was nearly impossible. Yet his blood energy, unlike vital energy, could not recover quickly; after several bouts, exhaustion overcame him.

Lacking Feng Qi’s pride, he soberly assessed his condition and decided to forfeit rather than risk further harm.

He hadn’t expected, however, to encounter Xin Chenxu, one of the illustrious “Eleven of Romance.”

Even more surprising was Xin Chenxu’s first remark: “I have long heard of the Overlord Spear’s renown. Lu Prefecture and Yanbei are far apart, so I’ve never had the chance to learn from the Heir of Yanbei. I only hope the Second Young Master of Yanbei lives up to his reputation, and does not tarnish the name of his province.”

They were both young and proud; how could youthful spirit not burn in their hearts?

Feng Yang was spirited too, though his body’s frailty restrained his passion.

Silently, he glanced at the spectators—some standing by the arena, others hidden among the woods—and made up his mind to give it a try.

The duel erupted. He unleashed seven forms of the Overlord Spear, including “Invincible Selflessness” and “Desperate Stand,” hurling Xin Chenxu from the field. Then, calmly, he told him, “In battle, you talk too much.”

He emerged as the top contender in the preliminaries, yet not a single master acknowledged him.

No one took him as a disciple.

Everyone could see the signs of his condition.

The Severed Ten Meridians. For someone of Feng Yang’s age, his days were numbered—at best, a few months remained. When it came time to select disciples, all five peaks instinctively overlooked him.

Feng Yang was content with that.

He had not come to the Taixuan Mountains to enter any abyssal sect.

His purpose was clear... to leave an indelible mark.

As he pondered these things, his attention faltered, and he stumbled. The already brimming buckets swayed, sending a good amount of water sloshing out onto the stones. Gazing at the damp patches, he calculated his remaining days. If, after ten more days, no one came for him, he thought, perhaps he would have to journey south to the Palace of Shifting Flowers.

Just then, a pair of blue canvas shoes appeared in his view.

His gaze traveled upward to a young man with delicate, refined features.

“I saw your matches,” the newcomer said. “You are strong—were it not for your physical constraints, I imagine many from the five great abysses would have sought to take you as a disciple.”

Feng Yang made no comment, but he had no intention of exchanging pleasantries. He asked directly, “Who are you?”

The young man seemed surprised at Feng Yang’s bluntness. He raised his eyebrows slightly and replied, “Whom does the Second Young Master think I should be?”

Feng Yang answered, “I’ve been at Taixuan Mountain less than a month—how should I know who you are? Your words place me in a difficult spot, brother. However... you wear Cloud-Stepping Boots, bear the Aura of Demon-Subjugation, and lack the Sword Case of Clarity on your back. I suppose you must be from the Daoming Monastery.”

The young man smiled. “It isn’t a secret, but by seniority, you shouldn’t call me brother.”

Feng Yang raised an eyebrow. “The elders are far too busy to visit a cripple from the fields.”

The young man said, “Ordinarily, the elders are preoccupied with cultivation, teaching, alchemy, or even preparing for the centuries to come. Indeed, they have no time. But I am not here on behalf of Taixuan Mountain.”

Feng Yang asked, “This is the gate of Taixuan—if not for the mountain, then for what?”

The young man replied, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Master of the Beidou Branch of the Heaven’s Path Society. You may call me Po Jun.”

Feng Yang thought for a moment, certain he had no recollection of such an organization.

The young man said, “Inside, it’s nothing but wandering souls and nameless ghosts. We are not renowned.”

Feng Yang pondered a moment longer, then said, “If Li Jin Xing is not considered renowned, then who in this world dares claim such a title?”

The young man responded, “I did not intend to hide the gentleman’s identity.”

Feng Yang remarked, “It seems you hold him in great esteem.”

The young man said, “If you are ever fortunate enough to meet him, you will too.”

Feng Yang fell silent again.

The young man patiently waited, undisturbed.

Only these two could hear their conversation atop Taixuan Mountain.

Since there was no interference from the start, none would come now.

At length, Feng Yang composed his thoughts and said, “Those who slaughter the innocent deserve death, no matter what service they have rendered to humanity.”

The young man replied, “Sir’s thoughts and actions are not confined to the present moment.”

Feng Yang countered, “If one cannot stand firm in the present, how can one speak of the future?”

The young man said, “You are still young; there is much change you have yet to witness.”

Feng Yang replied, “The world’s shifting tides are no excuse for a corrupted heart.”

The young man shook his head slowly. “It is not corruption, but a heart that holds the world in its care.”

Feng Yang said, “To indiscriminately slaughter half the population—do you call that caring for the world?”

The young man sighed. “I’ve heard you have studied the Daoist Canon in depth. Do you truly not understand the intention behind the gentleman’s actions?”

Li Jin Xing, as the chief hero who repelled the southern invasion of the demons, ranked foremost on the Green Cloud Pavilion’s list. If it were mere suspicion, the Emperor would never have banished him so directly. The true reason lay in a theory he presented at court:

“Chaos is rising, all things wither, Heaven’s heart is confused, the source has drifted—these are signs of the world’s depletion, which, if left unchecked, will bring catastrophe and ruin to all. To restore balance, Heaven must be nourished with an equal measure of vital energy, lest all be lost. Yet the demon clans are powerful; only the cultivators of all realms may serve as a counterweight. Therefore, I propose that half the human populace be sacrificed to fill the world’s deficit, securing humanity’s survival for ten thousand years.”

According to records, when Li Jin Xing uttered these words, the court was stunned into silence. His reputation was such that none dared immediately rebuke him. Yet not all were cowed. Once they recovered, the cabinet led by the Grand Chancellor and the generals under the Marshal of the Nation denounced him unrelentingly. In the end, the Divine Emperor, in fury, banished Li Jin Xing a thousand miles from the capital.

Were it not for his great merits in repelling the demons, he would likely have been executed on the spot.

Feng Yang remembered well the disgust that rose in his heart when he first read this history, though he also understood that Li Jin Xing’s proposition was not without basis.

As the young man said, there were many changes Feng Yang had yet to witness—but that did not mean he was unaware.

He had pondered Li Jin Xing’s reasoning in depth and found it impossible to refute.

The world’s vital energy was finite; countless examples had proven this. Humanity’s exploitation of it had grown excessive. When the demons first invaded from the south, all of humanity boasted no more than five cultivators at the Dao-Integrating level. Even at the founding of the Divine Dynasty, their number was less than ten.

But now, even among those openly acknowledged, the number of such cultivators, while still small compared to the vast human population, had grown exponentially since ancient times...

Yet the world’s vital energy was anything but infinite.

Cultivators, in defying the natural order, seized the world’s essence. The higher the realm, the more boundless the energy within them, and the longer their lifespans. Inevitably, the world would one day be depleted.

Compared to the threat of the demons, that depletion perhaps posed the greatest danger to humanity.

Watching the shifting expressions on Feng Yang’s face, the young man said softly, “So the Second Young Master truly is a kindred spirit.”

Feng Yang did not refute him, though he still believed that no one had the right to decide another’s fate.

The young man said, “In that case, would you be willing to come with me?”

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