Feixuan Hall was situated behind and to the side of the main hall of the Arctic Celestial Emperor, tucked away in quite a secluded spot.
It was Zhou Wuji's first time here. According to the young acolyte who had guided him partway, Feixuan Hall was dedicated specifically to storing Daoist scriptures, canonical texts, and various archives.
While these scriptures and texts were important, they had little to do with actual cultivation methods.
A sect's secret arts were profound and subtle; many of their pivotal secrets and vital junctures were passed down privately from master to disciple.
Furthermore, both Daoist and Buddhist secret arts placed immense emphasis on ritual and ordination. Even if an outsider managed to get hold of a secret manual, it would be utterly useless without them.
The two of them walked all the way to Feixuan Hall without running into a single soul.
Zhou Wuji understood at once: Feixuan Hall was merely an archive and a library, the dullest and least lucrative posting in the entire branch abbey.
For Martial Uncle Yiping to have ended up as chief of Feixuan Hall showed that he held very little weight within the branch abbey.
Having brought Zhou Wuji to the entrance, the young acolyte turned around and hurried off.
Zhou Wuji stepped through the gateway, facing the main hall of Feixuan Hall. It stood on cyan foundation stones with nine steps, three bays wide and six rafters deep, capped by a single-eave flush gable roof.
The paint had completely peeled from the hall's doorframes and pillars, exposing the original color of the bare wood in many places.
Yet its architectural proportions followed strict standards, marking it as a formal hall. It was merely worn and dilapidated from years of neglect.
A small acolyte was sweeping the steps. Seeing Zhou Wuji, he hurried down, bowed with hands clasped, and greeted him. "Brother, may I help you?"
"My name is Zhou Wuji. I have come to pay my respects to Martial Uncle Yiping." Zhou Wuji politely returned the bow.
Hearing that he had come to see the chief, the young acolyte promptly led Zhou Wuji toward a side chamber.
Stepping inside, Zhou Wuji saw a Daoist reclining on a long daybed. The man had a ruddy complexion, a black beard and hair, and a slightly plump build. He lay there in a relaxed, comfortable posture—this was none other than Yiping.
Zhou Wuji set down his wooden chest, bowed deeply, and clasped his hands. "Nephew-disciple Wuji pays respects to Martial Uncle."
Yiping sat up languidly and waved a hand. "No need to stand on ceremony. Sit."
He asked casually, "Why didn't my senior brother come with you?"
"Master suffered a mishap... and has already passed away." As Zhou Wuji broke the news of his master's death, the grief on his face was impossible to conceal.
"What...?" Yiping leapt straight off the daybed, staring at Zhou Wuji in disbelief. "Senior Brother's Daoist arts and martial skills were both consummate! How could he have suffered a mishap?"
Yiping had always held immense admiration for Yiyuan's abilities, knowing that his senior brother kept his light hidden, possessing formidable wisdom, Daoist arts, and martial prowess.
For such a man to suddenly die! It was truly hard for him to accept.
Zhou Wuji naturally could not deceive Yiping, so he recounted everything that had happened to his master in detail.
"Sigh... Senior Brother was simply too fiercely competitive... Why did he have to push so hard? Why..."
Yiping sighed repeatedly. The Arctic Sect was orthodox Xuanmen, and most of its arts were upright and balanced. For Yiyuan to suffer qi deviation to the point of triggering a backlash of Yin Thunder, he had undoubtedly been cultivating an exceptionally profound and perilous secret art.
Remembering all the care and guidance Yiyuan had shown him over the years, Yiping could not stop tears from streaming down his face.
Seeing Yiping lose his composure and weep so openly, Zhou Wuji felt his sorrow deepen even further. Yet he was not accustomed to exposing his true feelings before others, so he kept his grief tightly restrained.
Still a seventh-rank cultivator after all, Yiping soon regained control of his emotions. Wiping the tears and snot from his face with his sleeve, he said to Zhou Wuji in a raspy voice, "Wuji, you needn't worry about the killing. Even if the family lodges a complaint, it must be handled by the Celestial Master Mansion. They will never let you suffer an injustice."
He then asked, "Now that your master is gone, how about you stay with me and cultivate here at the branch abbey for the time being?"
"Martial Uncle, I have already advanced to the eighth rank. I wish to inherit Master's Canglong Temple."
Zhou Wuji explained, "The branch abbey has strict hierarchies and little freedom. Canglong Temple was built through Master's painstaking efforts, and I am familiar with the place..."
He knew his chances of taking over Canglong Temple were slim, but it was his master's life's work, and he still wanted to try.
Moreover, there were many monsters, demons, and evil spirits in the Siming Mountains that his master had intentionally left untouched; this was the perfect opportunity for him to make use of those resources.
Daoist Yiping nodded. He could understand Zhou Wuji's feelings, but there were several difficulties involved.
With a troubled expression, he said, "Presiding over a branch altar requires one to be at the seventh rank."
Siming County had lacked a branch altar in the past because the Siming Mountains harbored swarms of demons, and the Jiuyuan River was also teeming with water monsters.
It was Senior Brother Yiyuan who had wielded his sword to purge the evil, wiping out the demons along the outer perimeter of the Siming Mountains and opening the waterway connecting the Huamei River to the Jiuyuan River.
Siming County had grown quite prosperous in recent years, and Senior Brother Yiyuan deserved the primary credit.
Precisely because of this, many people in the branch abbey had their eyes on Canglong Temple.
While Yiyuan was alive, naturally no one dared make a move. But now that Yiyuan was gone and Zhou Wuji lacked sufficient cultivation, it was utterly impossible for him to succeed the post of temple master.
Let alone Zhou Wuji, even if Yiping himself fought for it, he might not secure it.
Daoist Yiping felt a private pang of shame. By nature, he disliked fighting and vying with others. He found being the chief of Feixuan Hall rather pleasant—having nothing to do all day made for an easy, untroubled life.
Now that an actual matter had arisen, an idle man like him, far removed from the core of power, truly carried no weight.
He said, "There is no rush regarding Canglong Temple. For now, let us focus on opening an altar to transmit the precepts and confer the talismanic seal so you can formally advance to the eighth rank.
"For cultivators of our generation, personal cultivation is the true foundation."
Qi Ingestion was a stage of cultivation.
In Daoism, advancing to the eighth rank also required receiving the precepts and seal to obtain the recognition of the deities before one was recognized as a true eighth-rank Daoist.
The ninth rank received the Initial True Precepts, the eighth rank received the Intermediate True Precepts, and the seventh rank received the Ultimate True Precepts. These were the Three True Precepts, an extraordinarily vital ritual within Daoism.
Zhou Wuji bowed deeply with clasped hands. "Then I ask Martial Uncle to act as my sponsor master to open the altar and transmit the precepts and seal."
Daoist Yiping nodded. "That goes without saying. However, opening an altar for ordination is a major affair; I must submit an application to the abbot.
"Additionally, we must prepare spiritual offerings, incense, candles, the golden covenant register, and the spirit script talismans. You will have to wait two days while I make the preparations."
Zhou Wuji presented the wooden chest with both hands. "Martial Uncle, opening an altar for ordination incurs great expense. Inside is one hundred taels of gold. I wonder if it will be enough?"
"Hey, how could I let you pay for this?"
Daoist Yiping waved his hand. Though he lacked influence in the branch abbey, he was still a registered Daoist of the seventh rank; he could easily afford such an amount.
"Master mentioned long ago that this money was set aside for my ordination ceremony," Zhou Wuji said solemnly. "Martial Uncle is already taking on immense responsibility by opening the altar for me. How could I let you bear the cost as well?"
Opening an altar for ordination was equivalent to inducting someone into the faith. It was a ceremony witnessed by the deities, establishing an exceptionally solemn covenant.
If the precepts were imparted to the wrong person, even the officiant would face divine retribution.
In Daoism, transmission was strictly from master to disciple. Beyond that, almost no one would ever open an altar to ordain an outsider.
Seeing Zhou Wuji's resolute stance, Daoist Yiping did not push further.
His own money had all been lent out, so he truly did not have this much gold on hand. The spiritual offerings, golden register, and spirit script talismans required for the altar were indeed very expensive; having sufficient gold would smooth out many difficulties.
"Very well." Daoist Yiping stopped insisting. He would simply hold onto the money for now and return whatever remained whenever Zhou Wuji needed funds later.
He added, "This matter is rather intricate and cannot be rushed. Settle down here for a few days in peace."
Yiping summoned an acolyte to arrange a wing room for Zhou Wuji to rest.
He then changed into a clean Daoist robe, tidied his appearance, and set out to find Hall Master Yizhen.
Opening an altar to perform rituals required the use of a sacred hall. Erecting a ritual altar without permission was a grave taboo.
The Daoist sect was managed by Three Overseers and Five Directors, each with their own responsibilities.
The Hall Master was in charge of governing the sacred halls; all ceremonies such as sacrifices, altar openings, doctrine transmissions, and preachings required the Hall Master's permission before any sacred hall could be used.
An ordination ceremony was an even weightier affair, necessitating a sacred hall so the Arctic Celestial Emperor could bear witness.
Resting in his wing room, Zhou Wuji watched through the window as Daoist Yiping hurried off.
His room was not large, furnished with only a bed and a table, but it was clean and provided privacy.
He unbuckled his belt and placed it on the bed. The thing weighed a full ten jin and felt quite uncomfortable to carry around.
Mainly, he had nowhere else to store it—he could hardly keep it inside the wooden chest, only to take out half the gold right in front of Martial Uncle Yiping. That would have looked ridiculous.
At noon, an acolyte came by to call Zhou Wuji for lunch.
Rice, greens, tofu, and two small dishes of pickled vegetables steeped in oil. It was simple fare, but clean, light, and appetizing.
Having eaten his fill, Zhou Wuji had nothing to do, so he went to Feixuan Hall and selected two canonical texts.
One was titled *Compendium of Arctic Divine Arts*, which cataloged the Arctic Sect's various divine arts and briefly outlined their transformations.
Such important texts could only ever be found in Feixuan Hall.
Zhou Wuji read through it, finally gaining a broad understanding of the sect's diverse divine arts.
Among them, a technique called the Five Yin Pouch piqued his keen interest.
This art wove five yin spirits into a pouch that could be used to trap enemies or to store non-living objects.
However, the technique was exceptionally intricate, with demanding requirements for cultivation. One had to train it to an extraordinary level before it could even temporarily store items.
Zhou Wuji felt that with the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, cultivating it would not be difficult. He only had to wait for Martial Uncle Yiping to open the altar and ordain him, formally advancing him to the eighth rank, before he would be qualified to practice it.
Daoist Yiping did not return until nightfall. He explained that Hall Master Yizhen had gone out, telling Zhou Wuji not to fret.
Moreover, gathering the various spiritual offerings and sacrificial goods took time.
Although Zhou Wuji felt that delays might breed trouble—the Zhang family had surely received word by now, and there was no telling how they would react—the matter was entirely out of his hands. He could only comfort himself with the thought that a trivial Zhang family could hardly influence the branch abbey.
Taking advantage of this opportunity to read more texts in Feixuan Hall was a fine pursuit in itself.
On the fourth day, Daoist Yiping summoned Zhou Wuji. With an odd look on his face, he said, "The abbot wants to see you..."
Chapter 15