Volume One: The Emperor's Decree Chapter Fifty-Two: The Elder Bestows a Fortuitous Encounter

Throughout the journey, the group argued incessantly over the murder of their fellow disciple, each holding their own opinion, but no one managed to reach a conclusion. They would have nothing concrete to report to the elders upon their return. The elders’ instructions before departure, as well as the secret treasures for victory they had brought with them, had not even been put to use—because Liu Xiaoyi had single-handedly subdued the enemy. As long as he did not mention them, those treasures could remain in their personal possession.

Thus, everyone tried to strike up a conversation with Liu Xiaoyi to become acquainted, but all were blocked by Guo Shuda, who took the opportunity to extort them. Liu Xiaoyi sidled up to him, gesturing with his hand. “Senior Brother Guo, aren’t you going to share a bit of this wealth with me? I may be young, but I do know some elders in the Heavenly King Sect…”

“Of course, of course! How about you take sixty percent and I take forty?” Guo Shuda hurriedly produced two pouches and handed them to Liu Xiaoyi. “Once you arrive at the sect, please put in a good word for me.”

“Then I’ll say Senior Brother Guo turned the tide, defeating several formidable foes and rescuing all the disciples, while the rest of us merely lent some support,” Liu Xiaoyi replied, raising his voice so the others could hear, deliberately colluding with Guo Shuda to mislead the elders.

As they walked, they encountered an old man riding a donkey on the mountain path ahead. His long hair and white beard gave him a somewhat immortal air; despite the biting cold, he wore only a short-sleeved shirt and ambled leisurely through the snow. Drawing closer, they saw that the white donkey was made entirely of folded paper, its fur astonishingly lifelike. All those present who possessed magical power could sense the overwhelming force emanating from it.

The old man sat backwards on the donkey and turned to observe the approaching group. When his gaze fell upon Liu Xiaoyi, he patted the donkey, signaling it to stop. Li Jue’s family had encountered many strange happenings before and immediately recognized the figure: “One of the Eight Immortals—Zhang Guolao! Everyone, be careful! Those without magical power, fall back!”

The disciples were stunned. Had this happened days earlier, they would never have believed in ghosts or gods; practitioners of martial arts are usually steadfast and self-assured. Yet what they had recently witnessed had shaken those beliefs, and they obediently retreated to a safe distance.

The old man stroked his beard, smiling as he looked Liu Xiaoyi up and down, nodding approvingly. “Truly remarkable! At such a young age, you have comprehended the Emptiness Realm—far beyond me. Shall I bestow another opportunity upon you?”

“May I ask, elder, what kind of opportunity is this? What must I do to assist you?” Liu Xiaoyi replied with a humble bow.

“It’s nothing. Such a chance is rare and cannot be sought out. All of you, step forward,” the old man instructed, revealing himself not as his true self, but as a projection formed from magical power. Liu Xiaoyi, in using the Nine Syllable Mantra against his enemies, had inadvertently triggered a restriction hidden within Millstone Mountain.

The ancient Eight Immortals had left countless legends behind, fueling the dreams of cultivators to achieve instant fortune: whoever could inherit the teachings left by the Eight Immortals could transcend the mundane in a single leap and attain immortality. Most Taoists considered these tales mere jokes. But now, seeing Zhang Guolao in person, the Taoists were left speechless.

Heeding the old man’s words, the group stepped forward in unison. Instantly, their surroundings shifted—gone was the snowy mountain path, replaced by a vast, empty plaza paved with bluestone, encircled by five unmarked stone steles.

“Where are we? Did Zhang Guolao give you any clues?” Li Jue, excited and almost incoherent, finally managed to ask Liu Xiaoyi. The place felt like an underground chamber, for the ceiling was pitch-black and invisible, and the air was slightly damp.

There were many cultivators nearby, yet no one could have guessed that such a fateful opportunity was hidden in Millstone Mountain, a path everyone frequently traveled. Liu Xiaoyi explained that the old man had only mentioned an opportunity, not any clues. “There’s no exit in this plaza, so the secret must lie with these five steles. Li, how much do you know about them?”

“Zhang Guolao was the most skilled alchemist among the Eight Immortals. Could this be his secret alchemy chamber?” Li Jue recalled from his family’s tattered books that Zhang Guolao, upon achieving immortality, had once concocted a cauldron of elixirs which, if consumed by an ordinary person, could grant enlightenment and a spiritual root.

His alchemy chamber must surely hold the secret of the immortal elixirs. Li Jue’s heart trembled with anticipation, but reason prevailed—how could the Eight Immortals’ legacy be so easily obtained?

Someone approached the unmarked steles and touched one lightly, but nothing happened—it was as unremarkable as any ordinary stone slab.

“It’s said that Zhang Guolao erected several steles in his time, inscribing his teachings on them to be activated at set times,” Li Jue said, suddenly realizing, “Everyone, channel your magical power into them! Only then will Zhang Guolao’s teachings manifest!”

Present were Guo Shuda, Meng Qiaoqiao, Liu Xiaoyi, and Li Jue himself—four in total with magical power. Together, they began to channel their energy into the five steles.

A quarter of an hour passed before faint ancient characters began to emerge on the steles, their meaning obscure. Liu Xiaoyi handed out elemental stones so the group could recover their strength.

When the stones were finally depleted and turned to ash, four of the steles transformed, rotating and combining to form a square monument before them, opening a passage at its center—presumably the exit.

This was not difficult to deduce; any Taoist with common sense could do so. Yet the fifth stele remained inert, no matter how much power they poured into it—it was like a bottomless pit, absorbing all energy without response.

“Is it because our magical power is too weak, and thus we’re unworthy of the Eight Immortals’ legacy?” Li Jue wondered aloud, unable to explain it otherwise, feeling dejected.

Liu Xiaoyi pondered: the Eight Immortals were once mere mortals. Though eccentric, their words should be founded in reason. The old man had only spoken of opportunity after seeing him—there must be something unique about himself.

The Nine Syllable Mantra! He possessed something none of the others did—besides the nine spiritual roots in his dantian, the most extraordinary was this mantra.

He formed a mudra with his hands; at present, he could only employ the “Lin” syllable, lacking enough power for the other eight.

The “Lin” syllable could harness the energy of heaven and earth for defense. Enveloping the unmarked stele with this force, a cracking sound echoed—the stele was hollow and, under the pressure of magic, began to crumble.

Exhausted and drenched in sweat, Liu Xiaoyi forced himself to maintain the mantra. Fortunately, the stele soon collapsed completely, revealing a book of cultivation techniques hidden inside.

“The Profound Qi Manuscript”—the four bold characters on the cover etched themselves into his mind. As Liu Xiaoyi read them aloud, the ancient book vanished into his brow.

In an instant, the intricate text flooded his consciousness, sealing his awareness and compelling him to comprehend its mysteries.

The foundation of all Zhang Guolao’s abilities stemmed from this very technique. It nourished body and spirit, harmonized energy, and allowed him to linger in the mortal realm for over three thousand years before ascending to immortality, ever vigorous and untouched by age.