36: Chapter 36 Qingcheng Cloud Depth

Ten days later, on the Shu roads.

Lu Mingyuan journeyed alone through the towering peaks and steep ridges. When bidding farewell to Wudang Mountain, Zhao Shouzhen had suggested sending Disciples to escort him, but Lu Mingyuan politely declined—since this was a journey of study, he should walk ten thousand miles, behold a thousand sights, and experience a hundred hardships. If the path was smooth and easy all the way, where would the tempering come from?

The peril of the Shu roads was famed throughout the land. Plank paths hung from sheer cliffs, overlooking bottomless chasms, with clouds and mist churning beneath his feet. From time to time, the mournful, drawn-out cries of gibbons echoed from the valleys, adding to the sense of vast desolation.

Lu Mingyuan's steps were steady and sure. After two months of cultivation at Wudang Mountain, the Xuanwu Mountain-Suppressing Art had reached Minor Achievement. When his foot landed on the rotting planks, the force transmitted through without dispersing, as if he were walking on level ground. Silently reciting the Classic of Purity and Tranquility, his mind was clear and tranquil, sensing the flow of the land's Qi veins—the Spiritual Qi of the Ba-Shu region was distinctly different from that of the Central Plains, more ethereal and strangely captivating.

When he reached a perilous section famously known as 'Ghosts' Despair,' he suddenly halted.

Ahead, at a bend in the plank path, stood three men.

All three wore tight-fitting grey garments, their faces masked, revealing only their eyes. The leader was tall and thin, a curved blade strapped to his back. The one on the left was short and stout, holding a pair of water-parting spikes. The one on the right was of average build, with chain darts coiled around his waist. They stood at the narrowest point of the plank path, effectively blocking the way.

"This road belongs to us," the tall, thin man spoke, his voice hoarse. "Leave your pack, and we'll spare your life."

Lu Mingyuan's expression remained unchanged. "The three of you seek wealth?"

"Wealth, and your life too," the short, fat man cackled strangely. "Seeing how steady your steps are, you're a trained fighter. Perfect. We've been a bit short on funds lately. We'll borrow your head for some drinking money."

Before his words faded, the three attacked simultaneously!

The tall man's curved blade swept like a crescent moon towards Lu Mingyuan's neck; the short man's water-parting spikes thrust straight for his heart; the chain darts shot out like a venomous snake's tongue, aiming to entangle his legs. Their coordination was seamless, clearly practiced in this murderous, plundering trade, and all three possessed Early Stage Foundation Establishment cultivation.

Lu Mingyuan did not retreat.

The plank path was no wider than three feet. Retreat meant the abyss. His right hand moved towards the green bamboo staff at his side, but after a moment's thought, he released it—what he learned at Wudang Mountain emphasized protection; these three before him were killers seeking his life.

Which sword should he use?

In the flash of a thought, he had already stepped forward. The Chaos Qi within him flowed naturally, the intents of Purity, Vast Righteousness, and Pure Yang merging. He pointed with two fingers formed into a sword.

This finger thrust was simple and unadorned.

But where his fingertip pointed, a strand of Chaos-colored Sword Qi shot forth. Fine as a hair, yet sharp and unstoppable. The Sword Qi swept past the edge of the curved blade with a clear *ding*—a notch was carved into the hundred-times refined steel!

The tall man recoiled in horror, the tiger's mouth of his hand splitting open.

Lu Mingyuan shifted his finger's momentum. The Sword Qi moved like a swimming dragon, sweeping towards the water-parting spikes. The short, fat man tried to withdraw, but it was too late. The spikes met the Sword Qi and snapped with a crack. The remaining force, unspent, sent him stumbling back to crash against the rock face.

The chain darts had already wrapped around Lu Mingyuan's left leg. The man of average build grinned ferociously and pulled hard—but it was like trying to move a mountain. There was not the slightest budge.

Lu Mingyuan glanced down at the chain darts entangling his leg and gently stamped his left foot.

*Crack.*

The plank beneath shattered, but his foot did not fall through. Instead, a profound, solid force transmitted through the wood and the iron chain, surging upward. The man of average build screamed as the bones in his wrist holding the chain snapped one by one. The chain darts slipped from his grasp and plummeted into the abyss.

Three moves. Three men defeated.

A fierce glint flashed in the tall man's eyes. Suddenly, he pulled a black Talisman from his robes, bit the tip of his tongue, and sprayed it with essence blood. "I beseech the Honored Envoy!"

The Talisman ignited with green flame, and a sinister, evil aura spread. The clouds and mist beneath the plank path churned, and a ghastly white skeletal hand reached out, clawing towards Lu Mingyuan!

"A Demonic Path Talisman?" Lu Mingyuan frowned.

These three were not mere bandits; they were connected to the Demonic Path. He would hold back no longer. His right hand formed a loose grip—Chaos Qi coalesced in his palm, materializing into a three-foot-long Qi sword.

The moment the sword formed, Purity settled the spirit, Vast Righteousness suppressed evil, and Pure Yang incinerated demons.

He brought the sword down in a slash.

The skeletal hand met the Sword Qi and dissolved inch by inch, like snow meeting boiling water. The green-flamed Talisman sputtered and died. The tall man, suffering a backlash, vomited black blood and collapsed weakly to the ground.

Lu Mingyuan walked up to him. "Where did this Talisman come from?"

"S-spare me..." the tall man trembled. "It... it was bought on the black market... they said it could save your life in a crisis..."

"Where is this black market?"

"In Sword Pavilion County... the Ghost Market... opens on the fifteenth of every month..."

Lu Mingyuan committed it to memory, then looked at the three. "How many people have you killed?"

The three cowered, silent.

He sighed, taking three 'Mountain-Suppressing Talismans' from his robes—these he had drawn during his time cultivating at Wudang Mountain. Though only Low Grade, they were more than sufficient to suppress Early Stage Foundation Establishment Cultivators. The Talismans flew out, adhering to the foreheads of the three, transforming into mountain-shaped seals.

"These Talismans will suppress your cultivation for three years," Lu Mingyuan stated. "If you perform good deeds and accumulate virtue within those three years, the seals will fade on their own. If you commit evil again, the Talisman's power will backlash, and your cultivation will be completely lost. Take care."

With that, he gave them no further glance and continued on his way.

Rounding 'Ghosts' Despair,' the view ahead suddenly opened up. The peaks of the Shu mountains stood like a forest of swords. Among them, one was particularly striking in its elegance—its form resembled a walled city, wreathed in swirling clouds and mist, a verdant, dripping green. This was Mount Qingcheng.

---

Three days later, at the foot of Mount Qingcheng.

Unlike the clear spirituality of Longhu Mountain or the majestic grandeur of Wudang Mountain, the first impression Mount Qingcheng gave was one of 'seclusion.' Ancient trees reached for the sky, vines and creepers hung down, mountain streams babbled, and the calls of birds were soft and distant. At the mountain gate, there was no grand palace, only a simple stone archway. Inscribed upon it were five characters: 'Qingcheng, Secluded Under Heaven.' The brushstrokes were like swords, their sharpness held within.

Beneath the stone archway, a Daoist priest in blue robes was sweeping.

The priest appeared to be around thirty, with an ordinary face. He held a bamboo broom, his movements slow and focused, as if sweeping was the most important task under heaven. He swept meticulously, gathering every fallen leaf and speck of dust with each stroke, not raising a single mote of dust.

Lu Mingyuan approached, clasping his hands in salute. "Lu Mingyuan of Zhongnan Mountain, here on a journey of study and inquiry into the Dao. I request an audience with your sect's Sect Master."

The priest stopped sweeping and looked up at him. His eyes were clear as a spring, reflecting the colors of the mountain and the light of the sky.

"Honored guest Lu, you have traveled far and endured hardship," the priest's voice was calm. "The Sect Master Immortal Master is already aware of your purpose. However, Qingcheng's rule is that all who come seeking knowledge must first pass the 'Wenjian Cliff.'"

"Wenjian Cliff?"

"Follow me."

The priest led the way, and the two ascended along stone steps. The mountain path wound, flanked on both sides by ancient trees millennia old. Their trunks bore many sword marks—varying in depth, overlapping new and old. Some appeared freshly carved, while others were already covered in moss.

"These sword marks were left by generations of Qingcheng Disciples," the priest said as they walked. "Whenever they gain an insight, they test their swords here. The marks are not polished away, to observe their progress."

Lu Mingyuan examined the marks closely. Some were fierce and domineering, a single slash piercing through the trunk. Others were light and graceful, leaving only faint white traces on the bark. Yet others were rounded and profound; the bark around the mark wasn't even broken, only slightly indented.

Different Sword Intents. Different Realms.

Halfway up the mountain, a sheer cliff face appeared ahead. The cliff rose a hundred zhang, smooth as a mirror, its stone a bluish-black reflecting the sky's light and the clouds' shadows. This was Wenjian Cliff.

Before the cliff, over ten people stood quietly. All were Qingcheng Disciples, old and young, their cultivation ranging from Foundation Establishment to Golden Core. They gazed at the cliff face as if contemplating something.

"Wenjian Cliff poses three inquiries," the priest stopped. "The first inquires of the Sword Heart, the second of the Sword Intent, the third of the Sword Dao. You need only face the cliff and question yourself sincerely. The cliff will reflect the sword within your heart."

Lu Mingyuan walked to a spot three zhang before the cliff and sat down cross-legged.

He closed his eyes, focusing his spirit, and asked himself: What is my Sword Heart?

At first, the cliff showed no change. Gradually, faint light and shadow appeared on the stone surface—it was the 'Guardian Sword Realm' he had comprehended at Wudang Mountain, rounded and profound, like a mountain suppressing rivers and peaks.

But the light and shadow were unstable, brightening and dimming intermittently.

He continued to ask: What is my Sword Intent?

The light and shadow shifted. The Chaos Sword Qi appeared, the three intents of Purity, Vast Righteousness, and Pure Yang flowing and attempting to merge, yet there was still obstruction, failing to become a seamless whole.

Finally, he asked: What is my Sword Dao?

This time, the light and shadow fluctuated violently. Multiple overlapping visions appeared simultaneously on the cliff—the Fusion of Talisman and sword from Longhu Mountain, the mountain-suppressing guardianship of Wudang Mountain, the Chaos Sword Qi he had comprehended himself, and something deeper still brewing, vague and indistinct, like viewing flowers through mist.

The Disciples before the cliff murmured in low discussion.

"Three phenomena appearing together... is this person's will impure?"

"No, look at that Chaos Sword Qi. It already shows signs of Fusion, just not yet complete."

"The intent of protection is strong, but the direction of his Sword Dao is unclear."

Lu Mingyuan opened his eyes, looking at the cliff. The light and shadow gradually faded, finally leaving behind a shallow sword mark on the stone—not deep, but very clear, with a hint of Chaos color swirling within the mark.

The guiding priest walked to his side, looked at the sword mark, and said slowly, "Sword Heart sincere, Sword Intent mixed, Sword Dao unclear. This is your current state."

"Please offer guidance, Daoist Master."

"Sword Heart sincere means your underlying intention for wielding the sword is pure—to protect. Such a heart is rare. Sword Intent mixed means your learning is broad but not refined; the three systems have not truly merged into one. Sword Dao unclear..." The priest paused. "...is that you have not yet found your own 'sword.'"

He pointed to the ancient sword marks on the cliff. "Qingcheng Sword Cultivators do not seek to imitate predecessors, but to clarify the mind and see one's true nature. Your Sword Dao is not found by seeking externally, but by looking inward. When you can leave a unique sword mark upon Wenjian Cliff, that will be the moment your Sword Heart achieves Clarity."

Lu Mingyuan pondered for a long time, then bowed deeply. "This Junior has received your teaching."

"Go. There are guest lodgings on the mountainside. Starting tomorrow, you may enter the 'Sword Pavilion' to view the sword manuals of past generations and listen to the Elders' lectures on the sword. The period is three months. How much you comprehend depends on your own fortune."

Having said this, the priest returned to his sweeping.

Lu Mingyuan looked up, gazing deep into Mount Qingcheng. Where the clouds and mist swirled, the faint resonance of swords seemed to echo.

He knew this would be a cultivation journey of seeking inward.