Chapter 12: The Scroll of Distant Mountains

“There’s no need for such formality; this humble Daoist has come solely to accept disciples.” Zì Bùxiàn waved a dismissive hand, then stepped further into the hall, coming to a halt before Qíngyǔ and the Little Girl.

Seeing this, Yang Qingqing eagerly moved to approach Zì Bùxiàn, but her father gently restrained her. Noticing his subtle shake of the head, she reluctantly stepped aside, a hint of disappointment clouding her features.

“You there, the young lass at the back, come forward as well.”

“This one is profoundly grateful for the immortal’s benevolent regard!”

Having already withdrawn to the side with Master Yang, Yang Qingqing found herself unable to conceal her elation upon hearing Zì Bùxiàn’s words.

She covered the distance in a few quick strides, positioning herself beside Qíngyǔ and the Little Girl.

Zì Bùxiàn offered a slight nod in acknowledgment, then reached into the small, intricately carved gold pouch at his waist, conjuring forth three distinct items.

A scroll of pristine white Xuan paper, a shimmering jade token, and a simple wooden plaque materialized, hovering in the air before them.

With another sweeping motion of his hand, he conjured the ethereal forms of three spirit incense sticks, which he then bowed towards heaven and earth, his expression solemn and profound.

“I, Zì Bùxiàn, this humble Daoist, have come today to guide these aspirants onto the Dao. I respectfully request the sect’s witness.”

As his voice resonated through the hall, Qíngyǔ subtly perceived a fleeting, unseen will stir in the air, then vanish as quickly as it appeared.

Only after completing three reverent bows and allowing the spirit incense to dissipate did Zì Bùxiàn resume his customary serene and unhurried composure.

“There’s no need for apprehension. This humble Daoist merely conveys this to the sect; whether you choose to enter our gates ultimately depends on your own aspirations.”

The old Daoist stroked his white beard, his gaze settling on the Little Girl and Yang Qingqing with an appreciative glint in his eyes.

“Let us first address the initial matter.”

Zì Bùxiàn summoned the white Xuan paper, infusing it with a surge of spiritual energy. The Little Girl and Yang Qingqing felt a momentary disorientation, a blur before their eyes.

When they opened them again, they found themselves no longer within the familiar hall of the Yang Manor.

Instead, low-lying plants and stunted trees bordered a crystal-clear stream, while jagged rocks formed a chilling, secluded path up a towering mountain.

A delicate cloud bridge arced gracefully between two banks, beneath which an unceasing mountain stream surged, its turbulent waters crashing against fragmented rocks, sending white spray scattering in all directions.

A deep, pervasive gloom shrouded the entire mountain path.

The Little Girl merely stood on the mountain path, her gaze flitting about with innocent curiosity, whereas Yang Qingqing’s face was etched with profound bewilderment.

“This, then, is the scroll titled ‘Distant Mountains’ that I acquired from the young lady.”

Following the sound, the Little Girl and Yang Qingqing saw Qíngyǔ and Zì Bùxiàn seated on either side of a rocky outcrop overlooking a sheer cliff, with a naturally formed, elongated stone table separating them.

“To possess eyes yet fail to recognize a true treasure, I must have provided the esteemed sir with quite the amusement.”

Qíngyǔ responded with an air of practiced ease, reaching for the tea the old Daoist had poured. She blew gently across the surface to cool it, then took a delicate sip.

Zì Bùxiàn cast a profound gaze upon the young woman before him, dressed in nothing more than patched cloth garments.

“Might this humble Daoist inquire as to the origins of this scroll, ‘Distant Mountains,’ young lady?”

“It was left behind by my previous household. Noticing the spiritual charm embedded within its characters, I sold it to help cover my family’s expenses.”

The young woman continued to sip her tea, casually extolling her own virtues without a flicker of change in her expression.

“Does the young lady comprehend the immense effort this humble Daoist expended to refine it to such a degree?”

“I do not.”

“It nearly depleted all the remaining resources within my cave abode.”

Zì Bùxiàn, in truth, felt a pang of exasperation as he spoke.

The previous day, after entrusting the demonic entity and the malevolent cultivators to the Foreign Affairs Hall, he had dedicated himself entirely to studying this ‘Distant Mountains’ scroll within his cave.

He had initially dismissed it as a mere ordinary painting, yet upon taking hold of it, the vista of distant mountains had vividly materialized before his eyes.

It was only after meticulous study that he unearthed the truth: within this scroll of white Xuan paper lay imprisoned a true spiritual essence of those ‘distant mountains’.

“These two characters, in essence, have spontaneously generated a minor world.”

Zì Bùxiàn spoke with a note of awe, gesturing towards the edge of this world contained within the characters.

It was the base of the mountain, an infinitely vast expanse of white, precisely mirroring the blank space left on the original Xuan paper.

Qíngyǔ remained silent, offering no reply. She was, of course, intimately aware of the power imbued in that single stroke she had made during her enlightenment.

Yet, she had never imagined that, when integrated with this world’s unique cultivation system, it could manifest into something so extraordinary.

“It matters not if the young lady fails to comprehend; consider it merely the ramblings of this humble Daoist,” he remarked, gesturing towards the two figures beginning their ascent at the mountain’s base.

Then, with a wistful expression, he turned his gaze to Qíngyǔ.

“Were it not for the unfortunate truth that the young lady bears no spiritual essence, this humble Daoist would genuinely wish to take you as a disciple today.”

“The esteemed sir jests.”

“Your temperament, indeed, is simply astounding.”

‘Having lived for nearly a hundred and seventy years across three lifetimes, my temperament is naturally rather extraordinary.’

Qíngyǔ silently mused to herself. Noticing that Zì Bùxiàn had fallen silent, she shifted her attention to her own Little Girl.

[You said Little Mom is waiting for us at the summit?]

[Yes, your Little Mom is right there.]

Having grown accustomed to their dynamic over the past few days, Immortal Sword no longer addressed the young girl as ‘Little Master’.

In truth, she had only recently awakened. If compelled to pinpoint the exact moment, it would have been when the Little Girl was preparing to lay her Little Mom to rest.

It was truly peculiar how a frail woman, afflicted by a severe cold and seemingly on the brink of death, had somehow managed to endure.

Armed with this definitive information, the Little Girl ascended the mountain’s stone steps with the carefree ease of someone on a spring outing, steadily making her way towards the summit.

“Hey, wait!”

Still lost in her daze, Yang Qingqing watched as the girl beside her darted far ahead. Only then did she call out, scrambling to catch up.

“Hmm? Sister Yang, won’t you rest a little longer? What if you encounter a vicious beast climbing the mountain in such a manner?”

“Little Mom will protect me.”

“But your Little Mom isn’t here…”

No sooner had she uttered the words than Yang Qingqing felt an immense chill creep up her spine. She hastily swallowed, cutting off her sentence.

It wasn’t until she saw the Little Girl smiling softly at her that she finally pinpointed the source of that unsettling cold.

“Sister Yang, do you feel cold?”

“No, not at all! Let’s hurry!”

At the girl’s inquiry, Yang Qingqing quickly denied any chill. She glanced around, then, out of habit, snapped off a sturdy branch to use as a walking stick.

[What a peculiar individual.]

[You frightened her.]

[How could I have!]

Immortal Sword watched, speechless, as its master’s inadvertently radiating malice terrified a mere mortal. She then manifested as an ethereal outline, beginning her inspection of this ‘minor world’.

[This is rather intriguing.]

[What is intriguing?]

[This place, in its entirety, is fascinating.]

Beyond the spiritual pressure field intentionally crafted to impede their ascent, this miniature world bore virtually no trace of deliberate artistry or meticulous carving.

It was as if a true immortal had severed ‘Distant Mountains’ from the mundane world and refined it into a self-contained minor realm.

This was unequivocally beyond the capabilities of that Golden Core stage ‘child’.

Yet, that scroll, to be frank, had only ever passed through the hands of three individuals.

Qíngyǔ, Yin Sangu (the owner of the paper shop), and Zì Bùxiàn.

It couldn’t have been Zì Bùxiàn, and certainly not Yin Sangu.

Moreover, considering that peculiar restriction…

Immortal Sword nearly choked on her own burgeoning thoughts, finding herself fortunate that her master’s Little Mom had, presumably, not yet discovered her.

Or perhaps she had already been discovered, and simply didn’t care?

[You don’t genuinely harbor feelings for your Little Mom, do you?]

[Little Mom is beautiful! Why wouldn’t I like her?]

‘The child will mature and be fine… but will she truly be fine once she grows up?’

Immortal Sword felt an overwhelming pressure at this moment, yet could devise no viable solution. Though it felt like a degree of self-deception, she could only hope that her master’s Little Mom was indeed a mere mortal.

Beside the Little Girl, Yang Qingqing found her courage waning with every upward step. After all, she had journeyed far in her life, enduring the elements and even scaling treacherous ancient plank roads.

Yet, climbing this particular mountain today, she felt a constant, considerable pressure attempting to impede her ascent.

In fewer than a hundred steps, she was already gasping for breath, while the Little Girl beside her appeared utterly unfazed, ascending the mountain with the casual ease of a stroll through spring fields, often pausing patiently to wait for Yang Qingqing to catch up.

Initially, she had merely assumed the immortal was showing favoritism. Now, however, it was abundantly clear that a significant disparity existed between herself and this young girl.

“Sister Yang, hurry and catch up!”

The Little Girl, ahead, waved a hand, idly snapping off a twig and sweeping it aimlessly around her.

“I’m coming right away!”

What other recourse was there? She simply had to focus on her own task.

Gazingo at the endearing girl, Yang Qingqing found her own competitive spirit dissolve. She smiled with a sense of relief and continued her solitary ascent up the mountain.