Chapter Six: At Last, Riding the White Crane Away

Lu Sheng strode forward, his tall frame covering twice the distance of an ordinary man with each step. In the blink of an eye, he stood before the two elders, cupped his fists, and spoke in a deep, resonant voice, “Honored elders, are you immortals of Qingxuan?”

The elder in the vermilion robe regarded Lu Sheng with a smile and replied, “Becoming an immortal is no easy feat. The three of you, follow me.”

He drew three paper cranes from his sleeve. As they caught the wind, they grew to half a man’s height and alighted on the ground, spreading their wings. Their feet gripped the earth firmly, and were it not for their crafted faces, one could easily mistake them for living white cranes.

Shen Lian and Lu Sheng were both bold by nature; neither flinched at the sight. They mounted the backs of their paper cranes and exchanged a smile. Though strangers brought together by fate, it seemed they would be fellow disciples from now on.

One was strong and muscular, yet a scholar;
The other was delicate and refined, yet a wanderer of the martial world.

Only the frail youth hesitated, staring at the paper crane with trepidation and not daring to climb atop it. How he had passed the Path of Self-Reflection, or survived the perilous days before the opening of the mountain gate, was unknown. Could it be simply because his presence was so inconspicuous?

Shen Lian had observed him for a long time and was now certain: the youth had never trained in martial arts, nor possessed any foundation in Daoist arts. His fear of the paper crane was genuine, not feigned.

The elder in vermilion robes smiled and asked, “Are you frightened, little one?”

“I’m not ‘little one,’ I’m called Xiao Hei,” the frail youth replied softly, his retort barely audible, his head bowed, unwilling to look at the elder.

The elder laughed. “Little one, if you’re afraid to sit on this, how did you manage to reach Qingxuan?”

“I want to learn immortal arts. I must become a disciple of Qingxuan.” As he spoke, a determined light shone in his eyes, utterly at odds with his timid appearance.

“You only wish to learn immortal arts, not to seek longevity?” The elder in the gray robe suddenly asked, his gaze sharp as lightning, his tone cold as he addressed the youth.

The youth trembled under his gaze, nearly losing his balance, but answered earnestly, “I only want to learn immortal arts—the most powerful immortal arts.”

“Why?” the gray-robed elder asked indifferently.

“I want revenge.”

“And when you have learned the immortal arts and taken your revenge, what then?” The elder pressed further.

“I don’t know.” The youth shook his head.

With a sweep of his sleeve, the gray-robed elder said, “Kneel and kowtow to me three times.” He gave no explanation for this sudden command, leaving everyone astonished.

---

“Brother Ge, what are you doing? Before meeting the sect master, we must pass the ‘Heaven and Earth Mirror’ to verify their backgrounds. We cannot accept disciples without permission,” the vermilion-robed elder frowned.

The ‘Heaven and Earth Mirror’ was a treasured artifact of Qingxuan Sect. If one’s cultivation was sufficient, it could peer into the nine heavens and ten earths, nothing escaping its scrutiny—truly formidable.

The gray-robed elder gave the vermilion-robed elder a deep look and replied coolly, “What of those who impart the Profound Ultimate Technique to those not yet admitted?”

As he spoke, the gray-robed elder glanced meaningfully at Shen Lian.

Shen Lian met his gaze calmly, having realized that the technique embedded in the chess game earlier was intentionally transmitted. After all, immortals would never casually display a chessboard containing martial arts.

He admired both elders even more: with casual play, they could conceal a profound technique within the moves, without the slightest affectation. It was truly awe-inspiring.

Yet he was puzzled as to why the vermilion-robed elder had done so.

“I did not teach anything without permission,” the vermilion-robed elder chuckled, trying to gloss it over.

“You are called Xiao Hei, then I shall address you as such. After your three kowtows, I will teach you immortal arts,” the gray-robed elder said, his tone softening, ignoring the vermilion-robed elder.

This time, the vermilion-robed elder did not intervene.

The disciple chooses a worthy master, and the master selects his disciple. For the three to arrive here, they were all fated. Though the ‘Heaven and Earth Mirror’ must still be passed, it was mostly a formality.

Though Qingxuan had declined, it was not so diminished that fools would dare play tricks here.

In fact, the old rules of Qingxuan never required passage through the ‘Heaven and Earth Mirror.’ Only after an incident over a century ago did this custom arise.

Recalling that event, even with his years of cultivation, the vermilion-robed elder shuddered and preferred not to revisit it.

The youth obediently knelt and kowtowed three times, then joined the gray-robed elder.

A gust of wind rose, the paper cranes spread their wings and soared. Lu Sheng, with his tall stature, had to hold tightly to his crane.

Even with two immortals protecting him, his face turned pale. After all, looking down from the sky, the ground was thousands of feet below, and the wind whipped around him, making him dare not relax for a moment.

Shen Lian steadied his mind, suppressing his fear. Watching the cloud boat ahead, he couldn’t help but sigh at the difference in treatment between people.

The gray-robed elder, though severe, showed extraordinary care for the frail youth—like a long-lost son. Instead of placing him on a paper crane, he brought out a cloud boat-shaped magical artifact. The three sat inside, soaring through the skies in safety and comfort.

---

Even so, the youth clung tightly to the gray-robed elder’s robe, refusing to let go.

No one knew what exactly the gray-robed elder valued in this boy, to show him such favor.

The outward scene presented by Qingxuan was but an illusion. Once atop the mountain, one saw the vastness of the sky and earth—a new continent, with no sea in sight.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the cloud boat swept its tail, sending a powerful gust that nearly toppled the paper cranes carrying Shen Lian and Lu Sheng.

The cloud boat dove down, landing among the peaks.

Shen Lian and Lu Sheng’s paper cranes wobbled and followed suit.

Upon landing, the fresh air rushed in, prompting Shen Lian to take a deep breath, easing the dizziness from the flight. Lu Sheng, even more so, immediately dismounted, bracing himself against a stone and gasping for breath.

After all, with mortal bodies of flesh and blood, being so close to death and beyond their own control elicited such reactions.

The energy of heaven and earth here was exceedingly dense; if ordinary people lived here, they could extend their lives by twenty years and never fall ill.

The gray-robed elder stowed away the cloud boat; the paper cranes returned to the vermilion-robed elder’s sleeve.

Led by the two elders, they followed a mountain path, turning left and right, until suddenly the view opened up before a grand hall.

Shen Lian looked up: the plaque above the hall clearly read “Qingxuan.” The doors slowly opened, and a young Daoist boy, hair tied in a topknot, cheerfully announced, “Uncles, the sect master asked me to open the door for you.”

“Always the same routine, our sect master never tires of it,” the vermilion-robed elder grumbled.

Indeed, each time someone came to the hall seeking the sect master, he would have the Daoist boy open the doors in advance. The first time, it amazed everyone, impressing them with the depth of his cultivation. But with repetition, all grew accustomed, except for the sect master himself, who never tired of it.

The gray-robed elder coughed, patted the youth’s head, signaling him not to be afraid.

The hall was spacious, with two rows of beams—seven on each side—of deep blue, carved with ancient patterns.

No other decorations were present, save for a stone couch at the center. Upon it sat a Daoist, white-haired and bearded, his face ruddy but with deep wrinkles at the brow, showing the signs of age.

Yet his bearing was like an immortal from a painting, transcendent and aloof.

The two elders bowed and reported, “Sect Master, as you foresaw, these three have arrived first.”

The Daoist, clad in a purple and gold robe adorned with the eight trigrams, opened his eyes and regarded the three newcomers.