Volume One: First Steps into the Martial World and Immortal Path Chapter Three: The Daoist Descends the Mountain into the Mortal Realm; The Prince of Liang Poses Five Questions to the Young Lord

Upon hearing the princess consort speak, Chu Mingxuan responded respectfully. It was common knowledge in Liangzhou that the heir showed the utmost deference to the princess consort, and this trait had subtly altered public opinion about him.

Liangzhou King, watching his son, nodded secretly in approval. Smiling, he said, “Alright, enough talk for now. Time to eat! My son’s been playing all morning—he must be starving. Come on, little ancestor, let’s have a meal.”

Chu Mingxuan shot him a glance and muttered, “If you’re hungry, just say so.” With that, he led the way to the main hall for lunch.

The summit of Mount Qingyun was not simply a solitary peak piercing the sky. The mountaintop stretched wide, dotted with scattered tiled cottages, and among them—

At the summit, the young Taoist Fuming finally finished hauling spring water. Gazing into the wooden bucket, where only half remained, he sighed. “Alas! All things have spirit, even spring water. They have their own desires, and would rather not be confined to a bucket and suffer all this jostling.” He plopped down onto a stone with resignation.

Just then, a little girl in Taoist robes came running, waving her hands as she called out, “Senior brother, why are you back so late? Master is looking for you!”

Fuming turned, unable to hide a smile. It was his junior, Ping’an, with whom he was closest on the whole mountain. The eldest brother was too dull and never any fun, but his little junior was a lively sparrow, chattering every day, and their master never scolded her for it.

“What does Master want this time? I’m not to pound his back again, am I? With those ancient bones and limbs, I’m afraid I might pound him into oblivion,” Fuming called out.

Ping’an, now standing before him, blushed anxiously at his words, stomping her feet and raising a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. “Second brother, you mustn’t speak that way about Master! If these words reach his ears, he’ll be unhappy.”

Seeing her so flustered, Fuming stood up, shook his head, and rubbed her head, saying helplessly, “Little sister, you’re thoroughly brainwashed. Come, help me carry the water back, I’ll go see that old immortal—no, Master.” With that, he drew back his hand and strolled toward the Daoist temple with an air of sage-like detachment.

Entering the temple, he walked deeper into its halls and stepped into a chamber with its doors wide open. The room was simply furnished. At its head sat a white-haired Taoist in robes, cross-legged. Fuming entered, bowed, and said, “Disciple Fuming greets Master.”

Indeed, this white-haired Taoist was none other than the legendary Immortal Taiping of Mount Qingming.

When Fuming finished speaking, Master Taiping opened his eyes and asked, “You’ve brought back all the spring water today?”

Fuming grinned. “Rest easy, Master, it’s all here. But today I finally understood what you meant when you said all things have spirit.”

Taiping looked at him with a gentle smile. “You have a natural affinity for wisdom and a fine aptitude; it’s little surprise you understand. Tell me, what is your insight?”

Pleased by the praise, Fuming beamed even brighter. “To most people, spring water is just for drinking or irrigating the fields—a lifeless thing. Yet today, I carried a full bucket up the mountain, but by the time I reached the temple gates, scarcely a tenth remained. So I realized water is alive: on the way, it struggled to escape the bucket, wishing not to be trapped. Clearly, water, too, has spirit.”

Taiping’s lips twitched. He asked quietly, “Then why do you think the world is so ignorant, never realizing water has spirit?”

Fuming replied earnestly, “I can’t blame the world, Master. It’s just that I am too clever.”

Taiping fixed him with a look. “I think it’s simply that no one else is as lazy as you.”

Fuming scratched his head, embarrassed, at a loss for words.

Taiping chuckled, then said, “Fuming, you’ve been on this mountain for ten years now. Tell me, what have you learned in that time?”

Fuming straightened, answering solemnly, “Master, thanks to your guidance, I have learned a single word.”

“Oh? And what word is that?” Taiping asked.

“One word: Truth.”

Taiping nodded. “Not in vain did I bring you from the wilds ten years ago. Remember, all things have spirit, and all matters have truth. In this world, whatever you do, pursue truth and believe in it—you will not go astray. Truth is also reality. Perhaps all you see is illusion; then you must break through illusion to seek what is real, only then can you truly benefit the people.”

Fuming bowed his head. “I will remember your teaching, Master. Before I descend the mountain, may I ask, when will I be allowed to return?”

Taiping regarded him in silence for a moment, then said softly, “This is a world in chaos, destined to bring forth many heroes. When you return does not depend on you, but on the fate of the world and the rivers and lakes.”

Fuming bowed deeply. “I understand, Master. Please take care. I will descend the mountain at once.”

Taiping nodded. “Good that you’re going. If you keep pounding my back so recklessly, you’ll shorten my years. I might live longer without you around.”

Fuming’s head ached at this, and his formality vanished. With a sweeping gesture of his sleeves, he declared, “Old man, you complain about everything. Once I’m gone, you’ll have no one to pound your back!”

Taiping was momentarily stunned, then said, “That’s the spirit! In ten years, this is the only time you’ve spoken so earnestly with me. Why did I ever bring you up the mountain?”

Fuming ignored his grumbling. “I’ll need money once I’m down the mountain—I have many expenses. I’ll go to the treasury and take a little for travel funds, all right? Otherwise, with no money and no martial arts, I won’t last three days down there.”

Taiping considered, then said, “That’s only right. Also, take this ‘Sword Immortal Manual’ and practice daily for self-defense.”

Fuming replied, “Now that’s more like it—finally giving me a martial art. What about my weapon?”

Taiping closed his eyes and said, “Isn’t there a wooden sword hanging above your bed? I think that one will do.”

Hearing this, Fuming nearly lost his temper and wanted to pummel the old Taoist, but restrained himself.

“I’m off, then. Try to live long enough that I don’t come back to find only a grave.” With that, Fuming strode out. Yet as he crossed the threshold, his shoulders gave a visible shudder.

In the Liangzhou Prince’s manor, Chu Mingxuan sat idly on a pearwood chair in the main hall. After lunch, his mother had told him to wait here, so he waited, bored. The maids were no longer there to tease—he’d scared them all away.

As he made tea cups duel each other on the floor, the Prince and Princess Consort entered. The Prince hurried over, crouched down, and said, “Son, would you like your old man to play with you?”

Chu Mingxuan glanced at him and spat out a single word, “Scram.”

The Prince grinned, “As you wish!”

The Princess Consort sighed, “How disgraceful—father fears son, son insults father, and you’re shameless to boot.”

Chu Mingxuan stood and replied, “Mother, I’ll insult him less in the future, all right?”

The Prince and Princess Consort seated themselves at the head of the hall. The Prince looked at his son and said, “Xuan’er, today your old man will test you. If you answer correctly, I’ll forget what I said two years ago—how about it?” The Princess Consort hid a smile.

Chu Mingxuan stood up, answering loudly, “Ask whatever you like. I haven’t been idle these past two years. I know exactly how many brothels and martial academies there are in the city, and all four top courtesans—ask me anything.”

At this, the maid Qiuyue couldn’t help but laugh, though she quickly stifled it.

The Prince, amused, said, “My son is truly talented—even knows how many brothels there are. I don’t know myself. I should count them someday.”

No sooner had he spoken than he felt a murderous glare; turning, he saw the Princess Consort’s eyes and could only add with a forced laugh, “Your old man’s too dim, probably can’t even count to four. Best not make a fool of myself.”

Chu Mingxuan was unbothered.

The Prince turned back and asked, “Let me ask you: does martial arts exist in this world?”

Chu Mingxuan glanced at him and replied, “Of course. All those martial academies in the city are for training in the martial arts.”

The Princess Consort said, “Tricks of ordinary men—fine for health, but not true martial arts.”

The Prince asked again, “Who is the greatest in the world?”

Chu Mingxuan looked at his mother and answered, “Liu Miao, master of the city’s Number One Fist Hall. He can dent a tree trunk with a single punch.”

The Princess Consort smiled, “The so-called Number One Fist Hall is mere self-praise. The true number one wouldn’t be in Liangzhou.”

Third question: “There are legends of immortals—Taoist sages in the world. What do you think?”

Standing in the hall, Chu Mingxuan hesitated, finally saying, “Just rumors—nothing to take seriously.”

The Princess Consort replied, “There are immortals among Taoists, and in the world. True or false, one must seek for oneself.”

The Prince’s fourth question: “How many provinces are there in the world? How many nations? What is the relationship between the people and the court?”

Now serious, Chu Mingxuan paced before answering, “Fengyang has thirteen provinces; the Great Xiongnu only eight. As for nations, there are five: Fengyang, Great Xiongnu, Baiyue, Wuzi, and Northman. All the people are governed by the court.”

The Princess Consort said, “Among Fengyang’s thirteen provinces, Liang and You are the poorest. The world is divided into five nations, each with its own mind. Yet though the nations differ, the people’s relationship to the court is the same—like fish to water, water to fish.”

The Prince asked the fifth question, “Who is the youngest among the youth of the world?”

Chu Mingxuan wanted to say himself, but in the end just shook his head.

The Princess Consort spoke, “The current crown prince is peerless in both civil and military arts; in the capital, none of his age can rival him. The Four Taoist Sons all have the bearing of immortals. The Sword Pavilion’s Sword Heir is unmatched in grace. The Calculator’s Divine Child is a talent unseen in a hundred years. The Literary Pavilion’s Young Lord has a minister’s heart. The Instrument Pavilion’s Lady is as beautiful as a goddess. Such extraordinary youths are everywhere. Oh—and there’s one more worth mentioning: the Liangzhou Heir, known for debauchery, the undisputed champion of uselessness.”

After hearing this, Chu Mingxuan slumped in his chair, muttering, “Well, at least I made the list.”

The Prince said, “By my count, you didn’t answer a single question correctly. Does the wager from two years ago still stand?”