Over the next few days, Li Weiyi and Zhao Meng cultivated while also diligently studying the spoken and written language of this world, aiming to master them as quickly as possible.
As they drew closer to Jiuli City, the Sui River widened until it resembled a calm lake. Passenger houseboats, ornately painted pleasure barges, and towering warships crowded the water like a vast flotilla spanning the horizon.
After night fell, every vessel hung out lanterns carved from bone or painted with figures of court ladies. Lamplight danced across the water beneath a sky sprinkled with stars. Singing and dancing drifted over the waves in an unbroken tableau of peace and prosperity.
The Sui River ran north to south through the entire Lingxiao Realm of the Living, its main channel passing through seven prefectures. Thanks to its countless tributaries and lakes, aquatic bounty was plentiful and transit convenient, extending the river's reach and influence across more than a dozen prefectures.
Out of this fertile expanse arose the colossal Sui Sect. The sect purged fiendish demons, departed spirits, river bandits, and other perils from the waters to keep shipping brisk and unhindered, while simultaneously securing control over all riverine transit and trade, amassing tremendous wealth in the process.
Over the course of several centuries, the Sui Sect had risen from a mere trade and transport agent under the Jiuli Clan into a dominant titan of the Lingxiao Realm of the Living, its power and prestige even quietly overshadowing the Jiuli Clan itself.
At that moment, Li Weiyi and Zhao Meng stood by the railing of the bow deck. Looking out across the water, they saw the character "Sui" emblazoned on the wind pennants of many vessels. The passenger houseboat they traveled on was no exception.
Li Weiyi asked, "What are you thinking about, Senior Brother?"
"'Eastward flows the great river, its waves scouring away the gallant figures of a thousand ages; yet for truly great men, look to the present day!'" Zhao Meng recited, brimful of grand ambition.
Li Weiyi smiled. "Are those two lines even from the same poem?"
"Close enough!" Zhao Meng replied. "Weiyi, as men, we have to stand out. We need to make something big of ourselves in this world. What if we build up the Chan Sect until it's bigger than even the Sui Sect? When Eldest Senior Sister hears our name, she might even come looking for us on her own."
Li Weiyi said, "That makes sense, but we have to secure a solid foothold in this world first."
Rumble!
Crash!
The broad river surface churned violently, sending waves surging outward.
A fiendish demon that looked partly like a giant python and partly like a green flood dragon darted swiftly through the water, now thrusting its head into view, now thrashing its tail. Densely packed iron chains wrapped around its body, their links shimmering with floating scripture characters. The other ends of the chains were hitched to a brightly lit, richly adorned vessel.
Before long, the beast overtook them and drew parallel to their houseboat, separated by no more than two or three fathoms.
At close range, one could see that the fiendish demon in the water was over twenty meters long and thick as a water barrel, with broad green fins along its back and an imposing, ferocious aura. Aboard the ship opposite them stood throngs of attendants and servants, and even the maidservants were dressed in vivid, finely embroidered attire.
"Is that a flood dragon?" There was no fear in Zhao Meng's eyes; instead, he looked thoroughly intrigued.
Dragon blood was something he desperately needed.
"It is a green chi. The flood dragon blood in its veins is very thin."
Li Ling walked down the corridor. Her injuries had mostly healed. Having changed into fresh clothes and pinned her hair with a jade hairpin, she looked like a celestial maiden descended to the mortal realm, drawing the distant, admiring gazes of the other travelers aboard.
On the deck of the luxurious ship three fathoms away, a young man and woman stepped forward and waved at her.
"Sister Li Ling! It's me, Yang Yun!"
Whoosh!
Dharma qi surged from the young man. With a single leap, he strode through empty air, traversing the three-fathom gap before landing steadily on the deck where Li Weiyi and the others stood.
Yang Yun was only about a year older than Li Ling and wore silk brocade robes that looked shockingly expensive. Yet he was no mere playboy; the dharma qi he had just released was far more formidable than that of Yan Qingqing or Fang Tong.
His face lit up with unreserved joy, and he exclaimed, "Sister Qingxi and I heard in Yao Pass that you were injured, so we drove the green chi day and night to catch up with you. Thank heaven we made it! Seeing how good your complexion is, your wounds must no longer be serious."
Paying no heed to the reunion and pleasantries, Li Weiyi found his gaze drawn to the woman with a Pure Immortal Physique aboard the opposite ship.
She was older and taller than both Yang Yun and Li Ling, entirely devoid of juvenile innocence. Her robes were intricately embroidered and inscribed with scriptures, featuring a water-blue jacket and skirt over a light-green inner robe.
What truly drew Li Weiyi's attention was neither her beauty nor her bearing, but her unfathomably profound cultivation.
With a flick of her finger, wisps of white dharma-qi mist formed a cloud bridge stretching between the two ships. Then, amid the river wind, she drifted across with slow, graceful, breathtaking steps. Who knew how many people on the surrounding ships were left spellbound by the sight; surely they would all have sweet dreams tonight.
Yang Qingxi stepped up to Li Ling, and only then did her expression—cold as a ten-thousand-year iceberg—melt into warmth. "You're injured, so why are you outside catching the cold wind? How do your family's servants look after their mistress?"
Her gaze turned somewhat sharp as she looked toward Zhao Meng and Li Weiyi.
Zhao Meng possessed a gigantic frame, but in a world teeming with mutant races, creatures of all shapes and sizes could be found, so neither sibling showed any surprise at his size.
Just like the twenty-meter-long green chi, it was merely fit to pull their boat.
Not wishing to offer any explanation, Li Weiyi turned to leave with Zhao Meng. But Yang Yun was far too enthusiastic. Hearing they were Li Ling's servants, he immediately pulled out two Yongquan coins and handed one to each of them.
Each coin was worth ten thousand copper coins!
Faced with such casual generosity, the two naturally found it hard to refuse. After accepting them, they offered profuse thanks.
"No need for thanks, it's just two Yongquan coins," Yang Yun said with a grin. "A while back, when I broke through the eighth spring, Fengfu, the rewards from the sect, my clan, and the governor's office added up to fifty thousand silver coins. It might not be a huge amount, but since it was handed to me for free, I'd be a fool not to take it."
"That makes total sense."
Li Weiyi and Zhao Meng nodded in agreement, hastily pocketed the Yongquan coins, and briskly left the deck.
Along the corridor, they ran into Zhao Zhizhuo.
"Why are you two so happy?" Zhao Zhizhuo asked curiously.
"Hurry up and pay your respects to your Fourth Young Miss. I guarantee you'll be just as happy!"
Leaving him with that remark, the two broke into hearty laughter and walked off.
Once the laughter faded, however, they soon fell into silence, the earlier swagger entirely gone from their chests.
Instead, they felt that they were the biggest joke of all.
A youth of merely sixteen or seventeen had already unsealed eight springs, his cultivation far surpassing their own. This world had too many geniuses and too many powerhouses; it was no wonder others took them for house servants.
Perhaps other people's house servants were stronger than them.
What was called superior aptitude might merely be the bare minimum threshold to cultivate dharma-martial arts.
Zhao Meng said, "I hope that one day, we can hand out Yongquan coins as casual tips to servants. Only then will we truly have status and dignity."
Back on the bow deck, a smile played on Li Ling's lips. "Your Sui Sect is certainly well-informed. I only made a brief appearance in Yao Pass, yet you managed to track down my exact whereabouts."
Yang Yun replied, "Sister Ling, your injury is no small matter. Of course our subordinates reported it to us."
Yang Qingxi knew Li Ling's words carried a deeper meaning and had no wish to pursue the topic. "I heard your coffin retrieval convoy was ambushed by the Fodu Bandits. Was your brother hurt?"
"Sister Qingxi, if you want to become my sister-in-law, you'll need to put in more effort lately. My brother seems to have taken a fancy to someone else," Li Ling said, blinking playfully.
After a brief gathering, Yang Qingxi and Yang Yun took their leave and returned to the green chi ship.
Yang Yun had been reluctant to part and wanted to travel alongside Li Ling, but Yang Qingxi dragged him away.
The next morning.
Li Weiyi had just gotten out of bed when Zhao Zhizhuo came by to inform him that they would arrive in Jiuli City by midday at the latest.
Standing by the railing and gazing outward, Li Weiyi saw a mountain range running along the western bank of the Sui River, its crowded peaks shrouded in mist and clouds like a thousand-li wall propping up heaven and earth.
When the river channel drew near the mountains, the range appeared dark and oppressive, as though it might topple over at any moment.
Only when the river swung farther away could one discern the layers of peaks within, rugged and fathomless.
Zhao Zhizhuo said, "The Mount Mang Range forms the western border of Lizhou. It is said that every single peak in that range is the tomb of an ancient emperor. That is where the name of the Mount Mang Imperial Tombs comes from.
"Cross the Mount Mang Range, and you reach the boundless Nether Realm of the Dead. It is a forbidden zone for life... or at least a forbidden zone for humanity."
Li Weiyi knew a little about the Nether Realm of the Dead. Legend had it that the realm had no end, stretching so vast that even experts of the Changsheng Realm could not penetrate its depths.
"Doesn't that mean Jiuli City and the Nether Realm of the Dead are separated by nothing more than the Mount Mang Range?" Li Weiyi found it hard to comprehend why Jiuli City had been built in such a perilous place.
"It wasn't like this in the past! A thousand years ago, the Jiuli Clan ruled over nine prefectures, and the entire Lingxiao Realm of the Living spanned three hundred prefectures. Chanhai Guanwu, the foremost figure of Lingxiao, possessed the power to intimidate the You Realm. It was that world-shattering catastrophe that caused ninety percent of the living lands of Lingxiao to be swallowed by the Nether Realm of the Dead, leaving only twenty-eight prefectures today." Zhao Zhizhuo let out a heavy sigh, reluctant to say more.
Returning to the cabin, Li Weiyi questioned the remnant corpse in the stone coffin and Senior Tablet.
Both fell into a prolonged silence after listening.
Neither knew the reason; when they had departed in the past, the Lingxiao Realm of the Living was still intact and thriving. Clearly, the present state of affairs was something they had never anticipated either.
Before the passenger ship even reached the docks, martial cultivators riding strange beasts or birds of prey darted back and forth along the shore and across the sky, scouting the area.
Cang Li had long been waiting at the docks.
Most of the young talents accompanying him were scions of influential clans, prodigies of dao academies, or prideful daughters of great sects. Each arrived in ornate carriages drawn by rare beasts, and all deferred to Cang Li as their leader.
As the foremost genius of the Cangling Tribe in a thousand years, his reputation was thoroughly earned. To break nine springs with a Pure Immortal Physique and step into the Wuhai Realm—such talent and cultivation speed, even in those ten-million-scale lineages and sects, would certainly make him the "first successor" or "second successor" representing the sect or lineage to walk the world.
Such an illustrious figure of the younger generation naturally commanded countless followers in Jiuli City.
The so-called ten-million-scale lineages and sects referred to factions that had to satisfy three conditions: an unbroken heritage of at least a thousand years, at least ten thousand dharma-martial cultivators of superior aptitude, and a populace of at least ten million subject to their direct influence.
Chapter 45