No one really knew what Daoist Li was laughing about, but that didn't stop everyone from joining in. So up there on Guantao Slope, the laughter rose in waves—some loud, some soft—but all together, it made for quite a sight.
Li Xun ignored them. He laughed to his heart's content, then with a flick of his sleeve, the laughter stopped as abruptly as it began. But after the laughter faded, something in the way he looked at the world had changed completely.
Sure, the world was still the same—the mountains, the rivers, the hustle and bustle of life—but when you shift your perspective, the familiar suddenly feels brand new, as if a whole different world had quietly unfolded in front of you.
He lifted his eyes. The landscape, the rivers, the people moving like ants across the land—all of it no longer looked the same. The sense of distance blurred. Everything felt both incredibly close and impossibly far away.
What still held meaning for him in this world?
A sudden clarity rose in his heart.
There was a soft sound from his chest—like something heavy being released. A murky breath quietly faded away, replaced by something light and fresh. It mingled with the cool aura of the Jade Bixie he wore, the two merging so naturally, you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
That breath brushed ever so gently against the structure of his Golden Core True Breath Lock-Structure, and instantly, they fused like water soaking into silk. With the flow of his inner breath, it spread throughout his whole body.
And in that brief instant, the Lingxi Art, which had been steadily progressing at a slow and stable pace, suddenly took a leap forward.
But Li Xun could sense—it wasn't just a simple breakthrough.
He felt like he'd suddenly become lighter by a few pounds. The river wind swept past, and it felt like he might just float away with it.
An urge welled up in him—strong and uncontrollable. He set his fingers on the saddle and began to tap in a strange rhythm. Every beat reflected the rise and fall of his true breath within his body.
That strange rhythm, carried by soft pops of sound, swirled around him. It stirred feelings deep in his heart—half familiar, half unknown.
"Daoist Li?"
Next to him, Li Cong called out tentatively. Ever since that burst of laughter, Li Xun had gone eerily quiet again, and the slope had grown awkward under his unpredictable mood swings. It was probably time someone snapped him out of it.
Li Xun snapped back to awareness. He knew he'd lost himself a little just now. But he no longer cared much about such trivial matters. He gave a light laugh. "Why are you lot hanging around a dusty old Daoist like me?" he said. "Go enjoy the beauties of the world instead. What, planning to check out the feng shui with me?"
Funny or not, that got another wave of laughter. A few of the more impatient ones didn't wait—they'd already spotted a few lovely ladies down the slope and galloped off to test their luck with springtime romance.
The ones who stayed behind were the cautious types—more seasoned, more calculating. Among them were Li Cong and Lu Tai.
Lu Tai, being the highest-ranking and oldest among them, had a quiet authority. He exchanged a knowing glance with a few close companions, then rode forward with a chuckle. "The riverbank's full of beauties, and you don't even blink? Daoist Li, really?"
Li Xun glanced at him and smiled faintly. "We cultivators… tend to take such things lightly."
What he actually meant was—after seeing the likes of Qingyin, Ming Ji, not to mention that seductive demon phoenix and the eerie Yin Wanderer in the Tongxuan Realm—ordinary mortal beauty just didn't move him anymore.
But Lu Tai and the others misunderstood. They took it as him being beyond worldly desires entirely. Most didn't think too hard about it—but Li Cong, who knew him well, wasn't buying it at all.
He's only seventeen, Li Cong scoffed inwardly. And he's already 'transcended' lust? Yeah, right.
He and Li Xun were riding side by side, and under normal circumstances, he shouldn't have undercut him in front of the others. But a subtle, complicated feeling bubbled up inside him—one he couldn't suppress. The next thing he knew, the words just slipped out:
"Weren't you teaching His Majesty the arts of yin and yang in the palace recently…"
It was borderline disrespectful, sure—but the tone was light, half in jest, so it didn't cross the line. A half-joke that could be brushed off, if need be.
Li Xun looked over again and smiled, nodding. "The young lord speaks truly. Yin and yang—just the way of man and woman. Nothing taboo about that. But for those of us beyond the mundane… isn't that same way also the Dao of yin and yang?"
With that cryptic reply, he cut straight through the flirtatious mood the others had been building. Lu Tai and company glanced at each other—then, bursting into laughter again, spurred their horses and rode off.
Li Cong had dismounted earlier, so he lagged behind. Just as he was getting back on his horse, he heard Li Xun's voice from behind:
"You're still young. Don't get too caught up in love and lust."
It was said plainly, almost like an older brother offering advice. But it hit right where it hurt. Even someone as composed as Li Cong flushed a little. He turned back—only to see Li Xun standing there, facing the boundless rivers and mountains. His Daoist robes fluttered in the fierce wind, and for a moment, he looked like he might just ride the wind and vanish into the horizon.
Li Cong didn't quite know what he was feeling. He gave a vague grunt in reply, then snapped his whip and galloped away.
The day's outing was a success for most—a cheerful affair. But for the more calculating types among them, Li Xun's strange behavior had added another layer of fog to their already murky plans.
As for Li Xun, he didn't care how confused others were. He returned to the National Preceptor's residence on his own.
By normal routine, he should now be entertaining guests or heading to the palace to check on Longqing. Basically, he'd have no time to rest. But today, he wasn't in the mood.
He called for the steward. "I'm exhausted today," he told him. "No visitors. If even the emperor calls, stall if you can." That was hardly something a loyal courtier should say, but he didn't care. He turned and strode straight into his room, sat down cross-legged, and began meditating, feeling the flow of his true breath within.
How long had it been since he'd done this properly?
Two months, at least. Ever since Lin Ge died on Tiandu Peak, he hadn't seriously cultivated. Whenever he had spare time, he'd sit in meditation more out of habit than purpose. As for that daily sword practice Lin Ge had required—he'd completely abandoned it.
Sure, some of that was because of external circumstances. But deep down, he knew: it was laziness, discouragement, the slump of the spirit.
A few hours ago, he might not have even admitted that to himself. But that moment of clarity back on Guantao Slope—it was like a sudden gust tearing through fog, like a beacon in the dead of night. Suddenly, the path ahead was clear again.
After truly understanding the difference between a trapped frog at the bottom of a well and a great fish that swims the vast seas—he couldn't help but feel deeply ashamed of how he had let himself slip, how willingly he'd settled for mediocrity.
But how could a mighty kun, one destined to soar into the skies as a great roc, willingly sink into the mud and become a little frog, staring up at the sky from the bottom of a well?
The gap between the two—it wasn't something wealth, status, or any worldly glory could ever bridge.
Sure, life in the mortal world might be easier, more comfortable. And yes, in the Tongxuan Realm, he might be stuck in fear and humiliation for a long time to come. But for the sake of that unreachable, towering height—an existence that stood for greatness itself—he chose the harder path, without hesitation.
That's right, he still hadn't truly conquered the fear the demon phoenix had planted in him, still hadn't broken free of the tight grip the two Wanderers had over his life. And those things... they might not change any time soon.
But so what?
He didn't want to be ordinary. He refused to live like an insect beneath someone else's boot. He wanted to stand at the very peak of heaven and earth—like Qingming, like Zhong Yin... even like Yin Wanderer and Blood Wanderer. It didn't matter who. What mattered was that height.
And for that, he had to fight. He had to get stronger. Much stronger. Whatever it took to make that happen—any method, any path—he would try it. He had the means. More importantly, he had the will.
One day, he too would walk the skies, free and unfettered, and look down upon the world from above—where all beings danced at his fingertips.
That's who he was. Li Xun. A young cultivator who had only just stepped onto the path—but already burning with raw ambition and unfiltered desire.
And luckily, he was someone who could fight for those wild dreams, step by step.
So, from this moment on—he began.