Chapter 87: Eighteen Thousand Years Until Apotheosis

Chapter 87: Eighteen Thousand Years Until Deification

One cannot drift through life aimlessly; dreams must be held onto—after all, what if they come true? A soldier who does not wish to become a general will never become a great chef. Likewise, a cultivator who does not aspire to sainthood will hardly become a true immortal. Yet, most soldiers with ambitions of generalship are dispatched by their superiors before they ever reach the top. In the same vein, immortals who dream of sainthood are often eliminated by the very saints they wish to become.

Aspiring to sainthood is the right direction for one’s struggle, but it is wise to set a smaller, more attainable goal first. For instance, one might first seek to attain the Dao and become a Da Luo. The Da Luo Golden Immortal is called Da Luo; the Taiyi Golden Immortal is a variant Da Luo; even saints are nothing more than advanced Da Luo, known as Hunyuan Da Luo Golden Immortals.

There is, in truth, no realm known as “quasi-saint.” Da Luo itself is the Dao; hence, Da Luo is boundless and infinite. The so-called “Three Corpses Severance” is merely a means to enhance one’s combat power. Some sever their good and evil selves; some sever past, present, and future; others cut off Yin-Yang and Taiji.

How does Luo Feng know all this? It was not the Dao Ancestor who told him, but rather the Zixiao Palace. In this world, the Dao Ancestor is the Dao itself, and thus only Da Luo can ascend to Zixiao to pay homage to the Dao Ancestor. This is Dao meeting Dao. If one is not Da Luo yet enters Zixiao Palace, what would happen? It would be the Dao looking directly at me, rather than me beholding the Dao. To face the Great Dao itself is no small matter.

An endless torrent of knowledge would pour into one’s divine consciousness—not me seeking the Dao, but the Dao pursuing me. The result: contamination by the Dao, becoming a mere part of its vastness. Luo Feng’s situation was better than most; his innate realm protected him from death. Moreover, he was personally received by the Dao Ancestor, whose protection shielded him from Dao contamination. Still, after his visit, he returned with a handful of useful information—and a mountain of useless data.

Such useless tidings serve no purpose whatsoever: for example, that Zhang San let out a fart five thousand years ago; or that a blade of grass on the western side of the South Sea, eight million miles away, withered slightly today; or that at the foot of Mount Buzhou, a plum deer grew three hundred and one new hairs. Countless trivialities, for present-day Luo Feng, are nothing more than a flood of incessant spam messages. Of the more than 120,000 strands of his divine sense, 110,000 are devoted solely to processing this garbage information.

The grand ambitions remain distant; even the small goals seem like towering mountains. At present, Emperor Wen Ding of Shang rules the land; after him will come Emperor Yi, and only then Emperor Xin. The monarchs of men will govern the rivers and mountains for at least another nine thousand years; the kings of Shang nearly as long. Thus, by calculation, there are still more than eighteen thousand years until the age of deification.

Luo Feng has cultivated for less than a hundred years; the expanse of time ahead is unfathomable. In these endless years, Luo Feng resolved to set himself a modest goal.

For example, he could join a sect and become an immortal with two and a half years of “practice time.” He might then balance his cultivation and magical power. Along the way, he could pick up some practical skills—like learning to ride the clouds and mist, soaring from the North Sea at dawn to Cangwu by dusk. Know this: to soar in the flesh, to command clouds beneath one’s feet, is the very hallmark of an immortal—a true display of divine prowess.

At present, Luo Feng relies on rending space to travel long distances, and on wind-riding for short flights; the clouds at his feet look like cheap special effects. If he could master techniques like Earthly Golden Light, the Grand Five Elements Escape, foreknowledge of the future, resurrection, Shadowless Stance, Embryonic Transformation, Deep Abyss Compression, or Piercing Vision—such great divine abilities would skyrocket his combat strength.

After leaving the City of Origin, Luo Feng set off flying southwest. His earlier visit to the city served only to gather information, with thousands of strands of divine sense scattered throughout, eavesdropping on the conversations of ten thousand people. Thus he learned that the City of Origin, perched on the eastern shore of the East Sea, is among the easternmost cities of the Yin-Shang dynasty—hence its name, for it is the starting point of all the eastern cities.

Most inhabitants of the City of Origin are practitioners of witchcraft; soldiers cultivate their bodies with turbid energy, earning the disdain of the immortal sects. Therefore, on the east side of the East Sea, most immortal sects are rooted deep within remote mountains and rivers.

Time drifted by. Luo Feng had been surveying the Xuanyuan Mountains for over a month. Drawing on the strengths of a hundred schools, visiting the great mountains and rivers, he pondered which sect to enter. Today, he made his decision.

On the ninth day of the ninth month, when pure Yang energy converges, the Xuanyuan Seven Sects hold their joint disciple selection ceremony.

Walking through the forest, Luo Feng’s wrist gave off a soft vibration. The little silver snake could not help but ask, “Master, which sect have you decided on?” Luo Feng replied calmly, “The Tai’er Sect.” “Tai’er Sect?” The silver snake shook its head, unfamiliar with the name.

Luo Feng chuckled. “That’s enough. From now on, you’re just an ordinary little snake.” “Alright.” The little snake nodded, then withdrew, transforming into an unremarkable glass bracelet.

The name “Tai’er Sect” comes from the Daoist saying: “Dao begets One, One begets Two, Two begets Three.” Luo Feng did not choose this sect for its unusual name, but rather for its utter humility. Among the Xuanyuan Seven Sects, the Tai’er Sect ranks fourth—neither at the forefront nor behind, embodying true moderation.

Its founder, the Immortal Tai’er, is said to have been a wandering cultivator who achieved immortality through tribulation, then took up residence on a spiritual mountain and established his own sect. The founder’s unassuming ways have been inherited by his disciples through the generations. Among the Seven Sects of Xuanyuan, the Tai’er Sect’s reputation is modest; its actions are likewise unremarkable.

In the immortal world of the eastern cities along the East Sea, when the Xuanyuan Seven Immortal Sects are mentioned, the first that comes to mind is the Huqing Monastery, whose founder is already a Celestial Immortal of the highest order. It is said that a Celestial Immortal at full mastery is on the verge of stepping onto the path of Golden Immortality. Though the Huqing Monastery has never had more than a few dozen disciples at any time, every generation boasts outstanding talent.

The second that comes to mind is the soon-to-fall Tianyi Pavilion, whose founder is also reputed to be a Celestial Immortal, but has been missing for thirty thousand years. Now, the sect is barely sustained by a leader who has only just become an Earth Immortal, and there are very few other Yuan Shen cultivators left. There is a palpable sense of decline and the threat of a broken lineage. If, twelve thousand years from now, no new Earth Immortal arises, Tianyi Pavilion will likely be struck from the rolls—not by annihilation at the hands of others, for some stains are never spoken of openly, but are remembered in the heart for millennia.

Immortals live long, claiming to be as eternal as the heavens themselves, and none wish to bear the stigma of exterminating a sect. All that is needed is to wait quietly for the last Earth Immortal to fall; then, how can a sect without immortals compete with those that have them? With each passing generation, the disciples dwindle, until only a handful remain, and the sect eventually dissolves, becoming a gathering of solitary cultivators. When the last loyal disciple passes, the legacy is lost.

Each of these two sects—the Huqing Monastery and Tianyi Pavilion—has a reputation of its own, but mention the Tai’er Sect and only then do many cultivators recall, “Oh, that one exists too.” In truth, it is the simplicity and peculiarity of the name that leaves an impression.

Beyond its low profile, Luo Feng had discovered another fact: the Tai’er Sect is ranked first among the seven in escape techniques.

The Xuanyuan Seven Sects’ disciple selection ceremony is held amidst a small range of mountains. Verdant peaks tower on all sides, lush and green as far as the eye can see. Amidst the vast sea of clouds is a massive platform, hewn from a mountain by a sword-wielding Earth Immortal, created specifically for the selection of disciples.

The criteria for selection are fourfold: aptitude, fortune, perseverance, and fate. Possessing any one of these grants entry, subject to further observation. With two, one is admitted and given key cultivation. With three, an immortal will generally accept the candidate as a personal disciple. With all four, one is without doubt of immortal quality, and all seven sects will vie to recruit them.

Gazing at the fluttering immortal banners atop the platform, Luo Feng scanned the scene with his divine sense. Twenty Essence Spirits, seven Earth Immortals—displaying just two forms of talent should suffice.

[By my calculation, I still owe five more chapters.]

[Why does the debt keep growing? (╯‵□′)╯︵┴─┴]

(End of chapter)