The path down from the Nine Heavens Sect consisted of a total of nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine stone steps.
For the inner sect masters who could fly on swords, this was merely a matter of a few breaths.
But for outer sect disciples like Lin Yue—who was also dragging a several-hundred-pound “iron pillar” that grew heavier by the moment due to the engraved Profound Magnetite—this was nothing short of a public execution of willpower.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
With every step Lin Yue took, the hilt of the black iron heavy sword knocked against the bluestone slab, producing a dull, heavy impact.
The sound made the leading outer sect steward, Mo Feng, who was riding ahead, twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Mo Feng was riding a spirit horse that was pure white from head to toe.
Its hooves were even wrapped in special silk, lest they get dusty from the mountain path.
He had originally wanted to strike an ethereal, immortal pose on horseback, but the “wooden fish knocking” sound from behind was grating on his nerves.
“Lin Yue! Can’t you put that thing in your storage pouch?”
Mo Feng finally couldn’t bear it and turned his head, shouting while covering his nose with his white silk-gloved hand.
Lin Yue was bent over, sweating profusely, cradling the heavy sword in his arms like a baby.
Hearing this, he lifted his head, revealing a face so honest and simple it made one want to slap him.
“Reporting to the Steward, this disciple is poor. That storage pouch is only palm-sized; after stuffing in my bedding and rations, there’s no room left. This heavy sword… it takes up space, and the key is it’s heavy. I’m afraid putting it in would burst the pouch.”
“Crude!”
Mo Feng retracted his gaze with disdain and nudged the horse’s belly with his heels.
“Move faster! If we don’t reach Clearwater Town before dark, you lot will be running the nightly patrols!”
Lin Yue curled his lip at Mo Feng’s retreating back, sneering inwardly.
Who’s he trying to fool?
This Mo Feng might be at the peak of Qi Refining, but his mental state is as flimsy as paper.
He got scared just once by a little girl, and he still reeks of paranoia.
“Hey, Yue-ge, your physical stamina is seriously impressive.”
Wang Pangzi, huffing and puffing under the weight of numerous large and small bags, sidled up and lowered his voice.
“Seriously, I finally feel at ease now that Junior Sister Xiaoxiao isn’t with us. That girl is pretty when she smiles, but I always feel a chill on the back of my neck.”
Lin Yue wiped his sweat and chuckled.
“That’s just you being weak. Xiaoxiao is so well-behaved, she even gave you spirit fruit.”
“Don’t mention it. I enshrined that fruit when I got back. I was afraid eating it would give me the runs.”
Wang Pangzi shrank his neck with lingering fear.
Lin Yue didn’t reply.
He could feel that the Karma Ledger within his sea of consciousness was slowly refreshing a progress bar with each step he took.
[Task: First Lesson of Descending the Mountain Cultivation—’Heavy Sword, No Sound’]
[Task Requirement: Before arriving at Clearwater Town, through breath regulation, reduce the sound of the heavy sword impacting the earth to be nearly inaudible, and do not reduce your travel speed.]
[Task Reward: Unlock the second level of force for ‘Heavy Sword, No Edge’. Failure Penalty: Due to excessive noise, you will disturb the mountain-dwelling Iron-Eating Beast and be forced to engage in hand-to-hand combat with it for three hours.]
Lin Yue glanced at the reward, finally feeling a bit more balanced.
In his past life, he cultivated swift swordsmanship—one sword strike, wind and thunder roared in unison.
In this life, the Heavenly Dao seemed determined to make him walk a completely opposite path.
He began to adjust his breathing.
Every wisp of spiritual energy entering his body no longer wildly rushed through his meridians.
Instead, it slowly sank into his dantian like a tide, then poured through his arms into the iron pillar.
Hmmm….
The Profound Magnetite within the iron pillar seemed to sense something.
Its originally violent attractive force became a bit gentler.
Lin Yue took another step.
This time, the sound of the heavy sword landing changed from a thud to an extremely faint puff.
Wang Pangzi beside him nearly popped his eyes out.
“Yue-ge? Your sword… grew fur? Why’s it so quiet?”
“Walk your own path, less chatter.”
Lin Yue closed his eyes, entering a strange rhythm.
Three hours later.
At the foot of the Nine Heavens Mountain, beside the official road.
They were still over ten li from Clearwater Town.
By the roadside was a simple tea stall—a few crooked wooden poles holding up a blue cloth patched all over, providing some shade for passing merchants.
“Take a break.”
Mo Feng reined in his horse.
Seeing the group of outer sect disciples all exhausted like dead dogs, he also felt it reflected poorly on him.
He casually tossed out a piece of broken spirit stone.
“Old man, a bowl of cold tea for everyone, and some dry flatbread.”
The tea stall owner was an old man missing a tooth.
Seeing a master from a great sect, he was so frightened his waist nearly bent into the ground.
“Right away, Master Immortal! Please have a seat, it’ll be ready soon!”
Lin Yue stuffed the heavy sword under the table and collapsed onto a long bench.
This job was truly inhuman.
Although the “Heavy Sword, No Sound” task was complete, the drain on his stamina had also reached its limit.
[Task Complete: The second level of heavy sword force, ‘Pierce Mountain,’ has been unlocked. Evaluation: You have finally learned not to disturb the peace. This is the most basic courtesy for a Demon Emperor.]
Lin Yue rolled his eyes, took the bowl of cold tea the old man handed over, and gulped down a large mouthful.
This cold tea contained little spiritual energy, even carrying a bitterness from aged tea leaves and a raw iron taste from well water.
But drinking it down gave Lin Yue an unprecedented sense of solidity.
This was the mortal world.
No oppressive sword intent like in the Nine Heavens Sect, no step-by-step, pressing “surprises” like from An Xiaoxiao.
There was only the sound of oxen plowing in distant fields and the faint fragrance of wildflowers by the roadside.
“Hey, old man, how much for a bowl of noodles?”
Lin Yue caught the scent of noodles wafting from the stove—the aroma of lard mixed with scallions.
“Answering Master Immortal, five copper coins a bowl. Plain noodles, no meat.”
The old man said timidly.
Lin Yue felt his pocket.
The outer sect disciple’s allowance did include a few copper coins.
He grandly took out five large coins and slapped them on the table.
“One bowl, extra scallions, no cilantro.”
Not long after, a steaming hot bowl of noodles was placed before him.
A clear, bright broth, snow-white noodles, topped with a ring of emerald green scallions.
A few drops of lard swirled on the surface of the soup, shimmering with an enticing gloss.
Lin Yue slurped up a large mouthful.
The noodles were chewy, the broth savory and salty.
“Yue-ge, your tastes are really particular. You don’t eat spirit rice, but eat this mortal stuff?”
Wang Pangzi, gnawing on dry flatbread beside him, looked utterly confused.
“You don’t understand. This is called life.”
Lin Yue didn’t even lift his head, focusing on devouring his food.
He finally understood now why those great cultivators from his past life, in the end, all preferred to seclude themselves in the mortal dust.
Staying on the high mountains for too long makes a person brittle.
Only by stepping on this yellow earth, where your foot sinks half an inch deep, smelling this scent of lard, do you feel you are still a living, breathing person.
“Eat quickly, finish up and let’s go!”
Mo Feng was over there elegantly sipping clear tea, urging impatiently.
Lin Yue ignored him, leisurely finishing the last mouthful of noodle soup, even letting out a loud, satisfying burp.
Clearwater Town.
Although its name said “town,” because it backed onto the Nine Heavens Sect, it was actually more prosperous than an average county seat.
Shops lined both sides of the street—selling talisman paper, elixirs, mortal cloth, everything one could need.
There were even taverns specifically catering to low-level cultivators.