Chapter 5: The Legendary Treasure

Daoist Ying was furious, and Daoist Ji, who had barely managed to stop his bleeding, wore a similarly angry expression.

Xiánglín Monastery had stood for over a thousand years, boasting a long lineage and grand scale. Back when Baishui Monastery was still hailed as the foremost temple under the heavens, Xiánglín was already known as the fourth greatest, its influence threatening to rival the top three. Later, as chaos swept the world and two of the three great monasteries lost their lineages, Xiánglín seemed poised to ascend into their ranks. Yet, two new lineages rose to seize the moment, becoming the new trio, while Xiánglín always fell just short, eternally ranked fourth.

For Xiánglín disciples, this was both a source of pride and shame.

They took pride in the monastery’s unyielding endurance, but felt the sting of being forever fourth, excluded from the inner sanctum of the three great monasteries...

Master Xuanchenzi’s words struck squarely at the hearts of Ying and Ji.

“Xuanchenzi, stop hiding and come out for a fight to the death!” roared Daoist Ying.

“Hmph!” Xuanchenzi replied in that same cold, grim tone, “I am just ahead. If you can come, then come!”

Ying and Ji exchanged glances. Daoist Ying gritted his teeth, pulled a radiant golden talisman from his robes, upon which was drawn an exquisitely lifelike miniature sword.

Upon seeing this, Feiyun and the old man in black both blanched.

“A weapon talisman?” Feiyun murmured, shocked and uncertain.

It was said that among the hundred arts of cultivation, the main ones were alchemy, artifact forging, talisman craft, and formation. Alchemy and artifact forging required a myriad of materials; formations, even more expensive resources. Thus, talisman craft was the most widely practiced within the Daoist sects. Yet, though entry into talisman craft was easy, mastery was hard. Of the five branches—charm, spell, explosive, weapon, and soul talismans—over seventy percent of talisman crafters could only make basic charms. The adept could craft spell talismans. Explosive talismans, it was said, were made by the top talisman masters of the three great monasteries, but never circulated publicly, and even ordinary disciples never saw them. As for weapon talismans, those were the stuff of legend, and soul talismans, even more so.

Now, Daoist Ying had produced a talisman that appeared to be a weapon talisman—an astonishing thing indeed. Such an item, even in the three great monasteries, would be a treasure of the highest order. Could it be that Ying and Ji had attained such status within Xiánglín Monastery?

“A weapon talisman?” Xuanchenzi repeated, suspicion thick in his voice, clearly doubting its authenticity.

Before he could finish speaking, the talisman in Ying’s hand blazed with blinding light. From that radiance emerged a tangible flying sword, swift and merciless, slashing toward a certain direction.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” Before the flying sword, the solid walls of the Tai Chi Hall crumbled like tofu, stones flying, the earth trembling.

When the dust finally settled, the onlookers felt as if a great expanse had opened before their eyes. The surrounding stone walls had been swept away, revealing a sprawling underground hall.

This hall covered at least ten mu, its ceiling rising thirty feet, lit brightly as day by countless luminous night pearls the size of bowls. On one side stood rows of tall wooden shelves, laden with all manner of treasures; on the other, a series of heavy wooden chests whose contents were unknown.

Though they could not yet see what was inside the chests, Feiyun, the old man in black, and the brothers Ying and Ji all brightened with excitement, their gazes locked onto the shelves. The objects there came in every conceivable shape, each one radiating a dazzling aura.

At that moment, Lingyu cried out, “Master!”

Startled by his shout, the four immediately noticed a man seated cross-legged at the end of the hall atop a stone dais. He appeared to be around forty, with dignified features and a short, three-inch beard beneath his chin. His blue-gray Daoist robe was faded from washing, giving him a somewhat disheveled look, yet he carried himself with a certain grace.

At this moment, his face was pale, with blood at the corner of his mouth—clearly, that sword strike had wounded him badly.

Hearing the voice, the man frowned, “Lingyu…” Then, seeing Xianshi still unconscious and tossed aside, he sighed. “This secret was never meant for you. Now that you have come here, the bond between us as master and disciples is ended.”

Lingyu was shocked. “Master, you… you’re abandoning us?”

Xuanchenzi shook his head, refusing to answer. His gaze, cold and heavy, fixed upon Daoist Ying. In his hand, the talisman had lost its glow, the little sword now vanished without a trace.

“And how shall I address you all?” Xuanchenzi inquired. Despite his grave injuries, he remained calm and composed.

Daoist Ying answered with hatred in his eyes, “I am Ying Xiude, and this is my junior brother, Ji Xiuming.”

Xuanchenzi scrutinized them. “You’re disciples of the ‘Xiu’ generation, not high in seniority at Xiánglín, nor notably powerful—how did you come by a weapon talisman?”

“Hmph! Why should we share such secrets with you?” Ji Xiuming replied coldly. The talisman had staunched his wound, his injuries now under control. Yet, the loss of his arm demanded vengeance!

Xuanchenzi did not argue further, but turned his gaze upon the old man in black and Feiyun.

The old man’s look was unfriendly, but he saluted in Daoist fashion. “I am Gongsun Yan. A pleasure, fellow Daoist.”

Feiyun, brushing the dust from her face, smiled sweetly. “My name is Feiyun.”

Xuanchenzi gave a soft exclamation. “So it is the head of the Gongsun clan, and Fairy Feiyun herself. Your reputations precede you.”

“Oh? You’ve heard of us?” Feiyun’s eyes sparkled with interest. “You’re clearly no mere wandering hermit. A talisman master of your skill ought to be renowned.”

“Alas, I am but an obscure recluse,” Xuanchenzi replied. He paused, then asked, “May I pose a question?”

Feiyun nodded with a smile. “Go ahead.”

Xuanchenzi’s gaze swept over the four, and the chill returned to his voice. “How did you find this place?”

“That is precisely what I wished to ask you,” Gongsun Yan replied. “You hid as a hermit, living on coarse fare, enduring hardship… If not for some great purpose, what exalted cultivator would willingly suffer so?”

“And what about you four?” Xuanchenzi pressed. “You are all figures of weight in the cultivation world, coming here together after careful investigation. For centuries, Baishui Monastery has been scoured by treasure seekers; all that remains is rubble. Why are you so sure there are still treasures hidden here?”

Feiyun laughed, her beauty dazzling as she cast a flirtatious glance at Xuanchenzi, her eyes sliding greedily over the shelves and chests. “Is this not proof enough?”

Ying Xiude and Ji Xiuming’s eyes gleamed with the same avarice. Indeed, this was their very purpose for coming.

The world believed that Baishui Monastery, abandoned for centuries, had long since been stripped of its treasures. In truth, its greatest treasures had never come to light. For Baishui was not only the former supreme monastery under heaven, but also the secret stronghold of Duke Chu of the State of Chu.

Duke Chu, Cheng Yue, was the most enigmatic figure in Great Qin’s history. He founded Baishui Monastery and elevated it to the pinnacle of faith, commanding such influence that even the Qin Emperor dared not challenge him. Yet, the historical records concerning him are vague and incomplete; no one knows how he rose to power, how he was enfeoffed, or why his title and family were annihilated. Only that he was favored by the founding emperor, disliked by his successor, and finally destroyed by imperial edict.

But in the world of cultivation, it was well known: Duke Chu Cheng Yue was a cultivator, one of profound skill and cunning. It was precisely his formidable methods that allowed him to create Baishui Monastery and stand against imperial authority, earning the emperor’s enmity and ultimately falling to a trap laid with immortal formations.

It was long rumored that Duke Chu had amassed a trove of astonishing treasures during his stewardship of Baishui, yet no one knew their whereabouts. Later, after Baishui’s lineage was broken and all treasures ostensibly looted, the cultivation world assumed the fabled trove was among them. For centuries, treasure seekers scoured Baishui Monastery, always leaving empty-handed—for the place was, indeed, nothing but ruins.

Had they not stumbled upon Duke Chu’s own handwritten notes, the four would never have believed that Baishui’s true treasures had yet to be unearthed. Yet, having found this place, they discovered someone had arrived before them, armed with even more detailed information and had already uncovered the treasures.

Leaving aside the contents of the chests, just the items on the shelves surpassed their wildest dreams—they must have them. With these, they could ascend to unimaginable heights!

Greed burned in their eyes as they looked at Xuanchenzi, their gazes growing ever more vicious.

Xuanchenzi, too, was brimming with murderous intent.

Each understood that the others stood in the way of their fortune; only by destroying their rivals could they enjoy the spoils in peace.

Battle erupted swiftly. Xuanchenzi’s first two talisman arrays had been destroyed; the last, broken by Ying Xiude’s weapon talisman, had left him gravely wounded. Of the other four, Ying Xiude’s weapon talisman was spent, Ji Xiuming had lost an arm, Gongsun Yan and Feiyun were not seriously wounded but bore many minor injuries, and their vital energy had been greatly depleted by the earlier arrays. On balance, both sides had a chance—Xuanchenzi held the advantage of terrain, the other four of numbers.

Lingyu stared blankly at the scene before him. Talisman light flashed, wooden swords danced in the air. On any other day, he would have been thrilled to witness such legendary techniques with his own eyes. But now, he felt no excitement at all.

Because one of the combatants was his master, whom he had always believed to be a mere hermit—and that master had just declared their bond at an end!

He could not understand—truly could not fathom—how his master regarded him and Xianshi. Before tonight, no matter how stern his master had been, Lingyu could still say that he was their benefactor, the most respected person in their lives. But now? His master was a true cultivator, not some wandering hermit, and now, simply because they had stumbled into this place, he no longer wanted them! It wasn’t even their choice to come here; they were forced, and nearly lost their lives. Why did his master cast him aside? What was he to do now? Xianshi could return home, but what about him? Was he to wander the world again?

At this thought, tears spilled down uncontrollably. He did not want to roam the world alone, nor did he wish to return to the place he had long ago vowed never to revisit…