Snowflakes, shaped like jade tablets, drifted down on New Year's Eve. They danced a silent ballet with the bamboo shards bursting from firecrackers, soon coating the tiled roofs of the buildings on Mount Hua’s North Peak in white, whitening the forest paths, whitening the ancient pines and cypresses, whitening the entire North Peak. Heaven and earth became a single expanse of white; the ground, the peaks, the vast sky merged, indistinguishable, so close as to become one.
The silver-white world held a profound stillness.
Yet inside the Cloud Mist Palace’s Cloud Cuisine Hall, the atmosphere was anything but quiet.
The few elders, renowned Sword Immortals though they were, tried to maintain a semblance of elderly dignity, but the disciples below were in full uproar. It was New Year's Eve; the alcohol ban had been lifted. As the foremost true disciple, Yun Yi sipped a few cups. Ling Yuzhu, who ordinarily never touched wine, now sported a flushed, rosy face from her few drinks.
At this point, everyone was encouraging each other to drink, though clearly, no one dared challenge Lu Yuan, the Immortal of Wine.
Lu Yuan felt utterly alone. He had found solitude in culinary arts, and now he found it here in the way of wine; not a single soul dared to challenge him.
In this drinking contest, however, the most formidable presence was undoubtedly Ye Yuan.
Lu Yuan and Ye Fang’s alcohol tolerance surely couldn't surpass Ye Yuan’s, but Ye Fang had to feign relative sobriety under the watchful eye of his master, the Gentleman Sword Fang Ru. Lu Yuan found few opportunities to press him, whereas the stout, thick-skinned Ye Yuan relentlessly went around toasting everyone, making the other true disciples inwardly groan in despair.
Ye Yuan was utterly triumphant. Though his power ranked lowest among the Ten Great True Disciples, his mastery of the wine path placed him among the very best.
Finally, after the other true disciples conceded defeat one after another, Ye Yuan called off the assault, immensely satisfied.
The true disciples settled into casual conversation.
Topics ranged from: “I heard Senior Brother Yun Yi slew several ninth-level Qi Refining Asuras during his trial in the subterranean demon world.”
“Second Brother isn’t doing badly either.”
“Speaking of which, I heard Third Sister had a fierce clash with Sister Bai Yubing from the Qi Sect—a battle between two beauties.” Ling Yuzhu, slightly dizzy and flushed from the drink, mumbled fuzzily, “What nonsense are you spouting?”
“Oh, almost forgot! It’s rumored that Ninth Brother spent over ten days traveling alongside a certain junior sister from the Sword Sect.” Suddenly, all attention swiveled toward Ye Fang. Lu Yuan also turned his gaze to him: “Ninth Brother, is there truth to this?”
“We merely traveled together,” Ye Fang replied. “Sixth Brother, you seem to have some lingering connection with the Sword Sect’s most beautiful junior sister, Liu Ye’er.”
“Forget it, still trying to change the subject. I only sat down for a drink with that Sister Liu,” Lu Yuan scoffed, immediately exposing Ye Fang’s attempt to deflect. And so, the barrage of attention instantly shifted back to Ye Fang.
. . .
Venerable Yuan Yuan watched the scene with deep satisfaction. This was exactly what he desired: perfect harmony within the sect.
Only through internal harmony could the sect flourish and grow strong.
Venerable Yuan Yuan knew that the Mount Hua Immortal Sect, while currently ranked first among the Five Great Immortal Sects in overall strength, stood on a precarious pinnacle. Being number one was an immense challenge in itself, as evidenced by the upheaval during the last Elder Council meeting. Furthermore, the Mount Hua Immortal Sect harbored internal divisions: the Sword Sect, the Qi Sect, and the Sword-Qi Sect.
The sect was strong, undoubtedly, but harmony was lacking; the three factions vied against one another.
He was no genius capable of sweeping away these issues; all he could manage was to guide the North Peak well.
Watching the lively clamor of the Tenth Generation true disciples, Venerable Yuan Yuan’s thoughts drifted. Perhaps it was because of the intense rivalry among the Ninth Generation that he desired such peace and unity for the Tenth.
He looked upon the Tenth Generation true disciples. Most needed no prompting from him, but Lu Yuan was an exception. He needed to urge Junior Brother Li; Lu Yuan should be encouraged to undergo more trials. Indeed, Martial Nephew Lu Yuan’s confinement order wouldn’t expire for another six months, but the Mount Hua North Peak itself offered suitable places for training.
“Junior Brother Li,” Venerable Yuan Yuan finally spoke.
Li Yuanbai looked over.
“Send Martial Nephew Lu Yuan to the location where you once served for a period of time, for training. He has been coasting for the past half-year of his confinement; it’s time for him to get moving,” Venerable Yuan Yuan declared.
“Very well,” Li Yuanbai nodded in agreement.
The day passed with astonishing speed. It seemed they had barely started celebrating when the time approached the midnight hour of New Year’s Eve, signaling the near conclusion of the gathering. The Ten True Disciples, however, were clearly still eager to revel; with the exception of Ling Yuzhu, the others paired off with those they were closest to and wandered away.
Once the Ten True Disciples departed, the hall felt significantly emptier.
Li Yuanbai, clad in white robes with white hair, stepped out of the Cloud Mist Palace. The snow had stopped, but the sky remained shrouded in heavy clouds. Another year had vanished, truly like sand slipping through fingers. He had just over a year and a half left of his lifespan. Time, how swiftly it flew. This would be his final New Year’s Eve.
Seeing Li Yuanbai’s robes dance in the night air, Fang Ru felt an urge to speak a few words of comfort, but he didn't know where to begin. The Six Sword Immortals of the North Peak varied in age; Li Yuanbai was among the eldest, second only to Venerable Yuan Yuan. Fang Ru’s own age was closer to Li Yuanbai’s, and they shared a past they could discuss.
Yet, even with the desire to counsel him, Fang Ru found no starting point.
. . .
The last to leave the Cloud Mist Palace was Venerable Yuan Yuan. Another year gone. Mount Hua currently maintained its peak momentum, leading the Five Great Immortal Sects. But the higher one climbed, the more cautious one must be of the inevitable descent. However, looking at the true disciples today, he felt confident that the North Peak would not decline under their stewardship.
That night, each of the Six Sword Immocals of Mount Hua carried a heavy weight of thought.
They were no longer young; naturally, they could not afford the carefree existence of the true disciples.
People always grow up.
As people mature, they accumulate burdens on their backs.
Once grown, one can never truly return to the days or the mindset of youth; the backpacks they carry cannot simply be set down.
Cherish the years of youth while you still have them.
——————
They had celebrated wildly until nearly dawn, finally falling asleep close to sunrise. Waking up near noon, Lu Yuan quickly cleaned himself and regained his senses. It was time to pay respects to his Master. Entering the main chamber, he found his Master standing with his hands clasped behind his back, murmuring as he gazed at a painting on the wall.
The painting depicted a peerless beauty whose exquisite features and transcendent grace were evident even in the depiction, a rarity in the world. Lu Yuan knew it was a portrait of his Mistress. His Master usually kept the portrait hidden away, lest the image gather dust, only taking it out for careful viewing during important festivals.
He had seen that portrait many times. The Mistress in the painting was stunningly beautiful, but according to his Master, the living person was several times more beautiful—not only possessing unparalleled looks but also an unmatched temperament. Alas, Lu Yuan had joined the sect too late and had never seen the real Mistress.
Li Yuanbai remained fixed on the portrait of the lady, his gaze lingering for a long time, never turning around.
Lu Yuan stood perfectly still, afraid to disturb his Master’s contemplation.
A long silence followed.
The room was utterly still.
“Spring banquet, a cup of green wine, a song once more. A deep bow, three wishes: First, that my Lord lives a thousand years; Second, that my body remains strong; Third, that like swallows upon the beams, we may see each other year after year.” Li Yuanbai’s voice echoed in the room. This poem was one she had deeply loved in life, often reciting it. After she passed, he found himself loving it more and more.
As he recited the lines, he was momentarily transported back to that past, watching her chant the verse—a scene of fierce wind, dancing orioles, and golden flowers covering the earth. It had been an exquisitely beautiful moment.
But alas, the past could never be reclaimed.
After a long pause, it dissolved into a profound sigh.
After an unknown duration, Li Yuanbai finally snapped back to awareness. “Ah, you are here.”
“Yes,” Lu Yuan acknowledged with a nod.
Li Yuanbai was unconcerned; this was not the first time his disciple had witnessed him lose composure. He slowly rolled up the portrait, replacing it gently, careful not to cause the slightest damage. “I called you here today because you must go out for training.”
“But Master, I still have half a year remaining on the confinement period you imposed,” Lu Yuan stated respectfully.
“The North Peak also has a place for training—it is the very post I once held,” Li Yuan replied.
Hearing his Master say this, Lu Yuan immediately understood.
Each of the Six Sword Immortals of Mount Hua held a specific role. Fang Ru was responsible for all internal defense forces on the North Peak. Sima Changbai managed external defense, though this duty had been stripped and delegated to Fang Ru following the incident with the Three Great Swords of Xizhou. Ye Yangrong oversaw intelligence; the female cultivator Dugu Ye was in charge of external offensives, while Venerable Yuan Yuan held supreme command over all matters.
And Master Li Yuanbai’s specific post was—Jurisprudence and the Heavenly Prison.
Jurisprudence and the Heavenly Prison had fallen under his Master’s purview, though lately, management was being gradually transferred to Chu Fei, as Li Yuanbai no longer had the energy to oversee it all.
“The Heavenly Prison holds many figures who have offended our North Peak. There, you can spar with those inmates; consider it your training,” Li Yuanbai explained.
“Understood,” Lu Yuan affirmed.
“Those prisoners have all brushed against death countless times. Moreover, after years of my strict rule, their hatred for me might run deeper than their feelings toward the other five Sword Immortals. Since you are my disciple, if you use those inmates to practice your swordsmanship there, they will not make it easy for you. You must be mentally prepared.”
“Yes.” Lu Yuan nodded. Another period of training was about to commence, but this time it would be internal to the North Peak, rather than descending into the world below.
This promised to be a rather unique trial.
(The third update is here. This chapter includes some life reflections and character sculpting. I hope you enjoy this style; if you dislike such descriptions, I will temper them in future chapters. Of course, my primary intent is to paint a fully fleshed-out immortal cultivation world, so your preference matters.) [.16U