The Daoist Zheng took another bite of his water peach, smiling knowingly, “Little monk, you’re just starting out; you still have a long way to go!” However, managing to start on the path without any guidance is truly rare—perhaps the first person in this entire dynasty to achieve it. Rare indeed!” As he spoke, he took another bite, nodding to himself repeatedly. Li Muzhan merely smiled, offering no words of modesty.

Indeed, mastering the Ziyang Splinter without instruction was nothing short of a miracle. He understood the profound difficulty and the sheer luck involved; the foundation of Chan meditation and the scripture of Viewing Heaven and the Divine Reflection were both indispensable. Most people possessed neither; he possessed both—a supreme stroke of fortune.

Daoist Zheng tossed the peach pit into the flowerbed, patted Li Muzhan’s shoulder, “Little monk, practice hard. Bring back the former glory of Ziyang so this old Daoist can see it!” Li Muzhan smiled, glancing at the Daoist’s hand. The juice from the peach had already been thoroughly wiped onto Li Muzhan’s shoulder, leaving it spotless.

The Daoist showed no shame, laughing heartily, “But, little monk, I must offer you one piece of advice!” Li Muzhan’s expression turned solemn, and he quickly said, “Senior, please speak. I am all ears!”

Daoist Zheng sighed, “For you, it must be one or the other: practice the arts of the Daoists, or practice the arts of the Buddhists. Do not try to master both to gain every advantage!” Li Muzhan frowned, puzzled, “Wouldn’t combining the strengths of both make one superior?” This was precisely his original plan—to become the foremost master under heaven, surpassing every contemporary expert by absorbing the strengths of a hundred schools into one. Daoist Zheng shook his head repeatedly, “No! No! You are gravely mistaken! Utterly wrong!”

Li Muzhan knitted his brows and pondered, “Currently, I practice both the Buddhist disciplines and the Ziyang Tablet, and I feel no conflict; rather, they enhance each other, and my progress is extremely swift.” “Then you must be even more cautious!” The Daoist’s face darkened. Li Muzhan requested, “Please, Senior, enlighten me.”

Daoist Zheng studied him for a moment, thinking deeply, “The idea you hold—trying to merge the two paths—many have contemplated it before. The world is full of geniuses, countless numbers of them!”

Li Muzhan nodded in agreement. In his past life, he had been an ordinary man who studied philosophy and immersed himself in the teachings of past sages. He held their profound and expansive wisdom in the highest regard, feeling perpetually inferior.

Since arriving in this world and leaving his manor, every expert he encountered was his equal: Mei Ruolan, Gong Qingyun, Xinjue—all figures of exceptional brilliance. If he hadn't cultivated his Chan (gōng) since childhood to develop his wisdom and gain a step ahead, he wouldn't even be able to stand alongside them.

Daoist Zheng tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. In the time they had been talking, the sun had completely dipped behind the Western Mountains, and the deepening twilight began to surge, light as a thin veil swirling around them.

He sighed deeply, “Alas… so many dazzlingly brilliant figures have faltered on this very path, trying to weave Buddhism and Daoism into one fabric… Heh, it is a road of no return. The farther you walk, the closer you get to death!” Li Muzhan frowned, deeply perplexed.

Though he knew little of Daoist martial arts, by inferring from the Ziyang Tablet, it could only involve the consolidation of Jing, Qi, and Shen (Essence, Energy, Spirit), the formation of the Core, and the transformation of the body. Buddhist practice, however, focused intensely on the spirit.

If the spirit is strong, the Core is strong. If his own Violet Core could not expand further, it must be due to insufficient spiritual strength. They should complement each other; how could they conflict?

Seeing his expression, Daoist Zheng shook his head, “This kind of thing cannot be reasoned out, no one can figure it out. But those who embrace both the Buddhist and Daoist paths end the same way—they succumb to Zou Huo Ru Mo (Qi deviation/madness) and perish!”

He chuckled, “Do you perhaps think you are different, smarter, and immune to following in their footsteps? Those who went mad all held that very same thought—they were all exceptionally clever individuals, but alas, they could not escape that fate!”

Li Muzhan started, a shock running through him, then slowly nodded, “Thank you for the warning, Senior!” “Hmph, I see you, little monk, are reasonably intelligent, so I spoke plainly. If it were someone else, this old Daoist wouldn't bother wasting his breath!” the Daoist said. Li Muzhan asked, “May I inquire just what eminent personage you are, Senior?” “Me? I am a free-spirited cloud, a wandering ghost. What kind of eminent figure could I be!” Daoist Zheng chuckled softly. Li Muzhan smiled, “Senior refuses to grant us your name?”

Daoist Zheng waved his hand, “Enough, enough. You little monk truly lack wisdom; so persistent!” “I am merely a wandering Daoist from Mount Chaoyang!” Li Muzhan paused to consider; he had never heard of Mount Chaoyang. Li Muzhan cupped his hands in salute, solemnly stating, “Thank you for your guidance, Daoist Zheng, you have truly cleared the clouds and revealed the mist!” “Alright, why bother with all that flowery nonsense!” Daoist Zheng waved his hand, smiling gently, “Do you have any good wine?” Li Muzhan shook his head and laughed, “The wine I brew myself is drinkable, but regrettably, I didn't bring any.” “Oh?” The Daoist’s eyes, sharp as winter stars, lit up, and he pressed eagerly, “How is the flavor of your homemade brew?”

Li Muzhan’s heart gave a jolt, feeling as though his very body was being penetrated by that gaze. He chuckled, “It’s passable. Once you drink my own brew, it’s hard to drink anything else… it tastes like plain water, devoid of savor!” “Good! Good!” Daoist Zheng clapped his hands in praise and chuckled, “No wonder I felt an affinity for you, little monk, felt we clicked; that’s why I said so much… It seems we truly are destined!” “If the Daoist wishes to taste it, perhaps you could visit my humble dwelling,” Li Muzhan offered. “That sounds excellent! Once Old Man Lu finishes his birthday feast, we’ll go to your place!” Daoist Zheng nodded eagerly. He grinned slyly, “Little monk, if your wine is truly as good as you say, this old Daoist certainly won't treat you poorly!” Li Muzhan shook his head and smiled gently, “Daoist, it’s just a bit of wine, offered as thanks for your counsel. I dare not seek anything more!” Daoist Zheng smiled faintly, “This old Daoist is not one to press a favor!” He stood up, let out a hearty burp, waved goodbye, and started walking out, “That’s all for now; I’m off!” In a flash, he vanished amidst the flowers. Arriving abruptly, departing lightly—Li Muzhan silently admired the true bearing of a master. Sunlight bathed the small courtyard, bright and serene.

Li Muzhan paced the courtyard, hands behind his back, occasionally looking up at the sky, then down at the earth, his gaze vague and distant, deep in thought. “Tap-tap!” a knocking sound echoed. Li Muzhan stopped, saying calmly, “Enter.” Feng Shisheng pushed the door open, crouching as he peeked in, “Master, the Grandmaster’s banquet has begun; please take your seat.” Li Muzhan walked straight out, “Let’s go.” He wore his monk’s robe, a string of prayer beads on his left hand, which he gently manipulated; he carried nothing else. “Master, your sword…?” Feng Shisheng hesitated. Li Muzhan said, “It is the esteemed Old Man’s birthday; how can I draw a weapon? Leave it there for now.” “…Very well.” Feng Shisheng hesitated briefly, then nodded.

In his heart, however, he disagreed completely. The sword is the man; the sword is your closest companion, your very life, and must never be far—even when bathing or sleeping, it should be within easy reach.

Otherwise, with a moment’s carelessness or a hidden attack, the loss of the sword means the loss of life.

This was the constant teaching passed down by Old Master Lu and his son, a lesson Feng Shisheng deeply internalized: the sword is one’s life; without it, he was like a tiger stripped of its fangs.

He led the way, heading west, and soon they circled around toward the main hall. Before they even entered, the lively clamor of voices could be heard from within.

Feng Shisheng went ahead, guiding Li Muzhan into the grand hall.

The hall was spacious, capable of holding ten tables without feeling crowded. The guests seated at these tables mostly possessed eyes that gleamed with sharp intelligence and visibly prominent temples, signs of high cultivation.

When they saw Feng Shisheng, the closed-door disciple, arrive, some guests turned their heads, watching as he ushered Li Muzhan to the topmost, principal table. They were intensely curious.

As Li Muzhan sat down, even more eyes turned towards him, their curiosity deepening. They exchanged glances, murmuring amongst themselves, trying to ascertain the identity of this monk. This table was reserved for the most honored guests, seating seven individuals in total—none of whom were anything less than highly respected magnates, figures of profound martial attainment.

The Sky-Soaring Monkey King Ji Cunzhi, the Peerless Swordsman Liu Feixu, the Lone Sword of the South Sun Zichu, the Great Hero of Jiangling Gu Liangzhu, the Divine Physician of the South Fu Qinglian, the Master of the Absolute Blade Sect Hua Shijun, and the Sect Leader of the Jade Immortal Sect Lin Qiongying.

Among these figures, only the Jade Immortal Sect was known for its discretion, and Physician Fu Qinglian was not strictly part of the martial world. The other five, with a mere stomp, could shake the entire martial landscape of the Southern Sky. What virtue or merit did this little monk possess to merit a seat at their table?! Whispers spread as they tried to inquire about Li Muzhan’s background, yet no one knew a thing. Li Muzhan had spent the past two days confined to his courtyard, painstakingly studying the Ziyang Tablet, never stepping out, so no one had seen him. “Zhanran? What a coincidence, sit here!” Lin Qiongying called softly, beckoning him over, pointing to the seat immediately to her right, her face blooming into a smile.

She was clad in a pale blue gown that barely concealed her graceful figure. A white silk scarf veiled her face, but her bright eyes, like autumn water, held a captivating luster when she glanced around, enough to steal the focus of any observer.

“Sect Leader Lin, what a small world,” Li Muzhan responded with surprise, smiling as he took the seat beside her.

As he settled in, he offered a slight bow to the others at the table.

Ignoring the rest, Lin Qiongying pulled Li Muzhan close and whispered, “Why are you here?”

Li Muzhan smiled, “Old Master Lu is the maternal grandfather of the Third Miss of my manor. I am here to present a birthday gift.”

Seeing Lin Qiongying again, though still maintaining a degree of caution toward her, he felt a sudden sense of intimacy. Surrounded by strangers, meeting a familiar face naturally brought comfort.

Lin Qiongying pursed her lips and smiled faintly, “I see. Master Lu truly has eyes like beacons!”

Logically, Zhanran, being a disciple of the Mei household, was a junior to Old Master Lu; how could he warrant a seat at this main table? Old Master Lu inviting him here clearly signaled that he recognized Zhanran’s extraordinary nature. “Why didn’t you bring your sword?” Lin Qiongying asked again.

Li Muzhan gently toyed with his prayer beads with his left hand, smiling lightly, “It is the esteemed Old Master’s birthday celebration, a day of great joy. How could I bring the sight of cold steel and bloodshed? …It’s left at the meditation chamber.” “That’s true enough,” Lin Qiongying nodded, chuckling softly, “On such a joyous day, which fool would dare cause trouble?” She scrutinized Zhanran briefly, then smiled faintly, “Zhanran, your skill has advanced significantly.” Li Muzhan replied, “It is thanks to the item you bestowed upon me, Sect Leader Lin.” Lin Qiongying looked surprised, “You truly mastered it?” Li Muzhan smiled, shook his head, “I’ve only managed to scratch the surface, but the benefits have been immense.”

Lin Qiongying was even more astonished. She observed him closely, nodding, “I puzzled over it for over ten years without grasping the fundamentals, yet you mastered it in an instant. It seems that object was destined for you!”

Although they spoke in low tones, the six other masters seated around them possessed sharp hearing and missed not a single word, growing intensely curious.

This Sect Leader of the Jade Immortal Sect, hidden behind a white veil, usually as cold as ice, who engaged with no one, was speaking so intimately with this little monk. They were deeply intrigued.