Chapter 75: Applaud For The Heavenly Master
In this world, the land is divided into nine continents and twelve cities. There is no concept of nations. Mortals are governed by the twelve city lords, while cultivators are led by the three sects and nine factions.
For cultivators, their roots are assessed at the age of nine, and they officially open their meridians at twelve. If they cannot build their elemental foundation before the age of twenty-five, their cultivation path comes to a halt unless they encounter extraordinary opportunities.
After successfully building their elemental foundation, cultivators enter the stage of visualization. Simultaneously, they receive their unique lifebound artifact.
At the heart of the Nine Continents lies the central continent, where a towering cloud-piercing pagoda stands. Throughout history, it has been a tradition that any cultivator who successfully builds their elemental foundation can enter the pagoda. They undergo trials within and obtain their lifebound artifact.
The origins of this pagoda remain shrouded in mystery. It has existed since time immemorial, standing resolute in its place. After thousands of years of exploration, humanity has gradually understood its workings.
Every May, as spring blossoms and birds sing, the Thousand Layers Pagoda opens its doors for three days. During this time, cultivators can enter and claim their personal lifebound artifact. Otherwise, they must wait another year.
Starting from late April, successful elemental cultivators arrive from all directions.
Not only the orthodox sects but also the three demonic factions send their daring disciples.
Lifebound artifacts are unique to each individual. When a cultivator dies, their artifact returns to the Thousand Layers Pagoda. Even if someone were to seize it, it would be futile. Thus, there is no real competition in this regard. The true focus lies in hindering opponents, delaying their progress, and causing them to miss the opening days.
After building their elemental foundation, half of a cultivator’s future progress relies on their lifebound artifact. Delaying even a year can have a cascading effect on their cultivation journey. Consequently, each year during this time, conflicts —both overt and covert— flare up.
In the past, these disputes led to significant turmoil. However, with the current balance among the nine orthodox sects, they now appoint elders to jointly oversee the pagoda, preventing external conflicts.
Groups of orthodox disciples enter the pagoda. Among them, the disciples of the Wanfo Sect, who are all monastic practitioners, always show deference to others and enter last.
Leading the way is a young man draped in a snow-white monk’s robe. His eyes sparkle like stars, and his clothes flutter gracefully. His appearance resembles a celestial being, akin to a cloud drifting in the heavens or a polished white jade.
His entire demeanor exudes an otherworldly aura.
“Truly a born Bodhisattva,” praises one of the guards from a different sect.
“No wonder he’s ranked first on the Yellow List. He truly deserves the title of Heavenly Master!”
“His unofficial title as the Holy Monk is well-deserved. Just based on his appearance, he resembles a saint.”
However, not all comments are favorable:
“Emerging from the Thousand Layers Pagoda, a year later, the rankings on the Mystical List will be reshuffled. Who knows? Perhaps this Holy Monk will be unremarkable.”
“Good looks alone won’t suffice. In the Nine Continents, strength speaks louder. Let’s see what artifact he obtains when he comes out.”
“Exactly! How many Yellow List geniuses have there been throughout history? But how many managed to ascend to the Mystical List? Even the Bone-Dry Old Demon reached the top of the Yellow List at sixteen, only to receive a half-useless artifact and eventually fall into darkness or even join the demonic path.”
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Regardless of external debates, these young cultivators stepping into the pagoda feel both anxious and hopeful. Only by obtaining their lifebound artifact can they truly embark on their cultivation journey, becoming genuine cultivators. All past honors and mediocrity become irrelevant; only upon exiting the pagoda will they reveal their true potential.
Inside the Thousand Layers Pagoda, it isn’t a series of tower floors but rather an expansive void. Each entering cultivator is transported to an independent space to face their trial.
In a certain part of the tower, an abrupt valley emerged—towering pine and cypress trees, a babbling brook, birdsong, and fragrant flowers—a scene straight out of a fairyland.
The Heavenly Master, resembling a celestial being, appeared here. Standing above the lake formed by the converging stream, his usual compassionate and gentle expression was absent. His face remained impassive, his gaze serene.
Ripples suddenly appeared on the lake’s surface, growing larger. A bridge materialized right beneath the Heavenly Master’s feet. Simultaneously, houses sprouted from the valley floor, forming a village nestled against the mountains and water.
Women washed clothes by the lakeside, men tilled fields and hunted on the hills, and young scholars studied in the village school. Children played beneath the large willow tree at the village entrance—a harmonious scene.
The Heavenly Master’s gaze shifted slightly.
In the next moment, a golden light burst forth from the mountain, leaving the villagers astonished and reverent. Within moments, the light vanished.
They considered this sudden appearance a divine miracle and prepared to celebrate by slaughtering pigs and sheep.
As they readied themselves, a massive flying vessel suddenly descended from the sky. The villagers hailed it as a celestial craft, abandoning their chores to bow and pay respects.
The vessel hovered mid-air, and a breathtakingly beautiful girl stepped out. After speaking some words, the village’s young and middle-aged men followed her toward the glowing mountain.
Night fell swiftly, yet the village remained ablaze with light. Those who stayed behind eagerly awaited the return of their loved ones with the celestial visitor.
However, a thunderous sound echoed from the mountain. Three figures descended—two men and a woman. Despite their disheveled appearance, their attire exuded nobility. One man had a fierce countenance and coldly ordered the woman behind him to raise the butcher’s knife.
The air filled with cries for mercy.
The mother protecting her child was mercilessly beheaded. The child’s face bore the warmth of the mother’s blood, extinguished in terror.
Desperate men lunged forward to resist but were struck down before even touching their opponent.
In no time, the entire village lay lifeless.
The raging fire consumed the valley, spreading to the forest and lakeside. The entire space burned.
The Heavenly Master stood motionless on the bridge.
“Do you like my welcoming gift?” A youth emerged from the inferno, more radiant than the flames. His long black hair reached his knees, fiery red garments contrasting with skin fairer than snow. A crimson dot adorned his forehead, as if blood would soon drip from it.
This youth was Shen Qi. He stood barefoot in front of the Heavenly Master and looked at him with admiration in his eyes. This incarnaiton the most handsome and closest to himself that he has seen in the past few worlds. The most handsome person before was Lu Zhuo, who was instantly radiant at a glance. Ru Deng astonishingly resembled a heavenly being.
Ru Deng who was an orphan seeking revenge. By a twist of fate, he was recognized as a born Bodhisattva and willingly joined the Wanfo Sect. He ascended rapidly, eventually dominating the cultivation world. However, his sins ran too deep, and during his ascension, the heavens rejected him, scattering his soul.
Shen Qi studied the script, furrowing his brow in deep thought. Even with just a 5-point happiness value, it was impressive — almost on par with Qin Huan’s initial score. However, Qin Huan had the advantage of memory loss as a potential breakthrough point, which Shen Qi lacked this time.
Moreover, Qin Huan, despite everything, still carried some responsibility toward the empire. In contrast, Ru Deng, who had mercilessly annihilated the Wanfo Sect that raised him, seemed devoid of any such obligations. His character appeared focused solely on revenge and personal growth, with little else to attract him.
While outsiders remained unaware of his true identity, the spirits within the Thousand Layers Pagoda saw through the facade. These spirits, the essence of lifebound artifacts, were nearly indistinguishable from humans. Each had its unique personality, appearance, and even name.
Most spirits favored cultivators with admirable qualities, even if they were gluttonous or greedy. Although there were a few mischievous spirits, they were the exception. Interestingly, they leaned more toward demonic cultivators than those like Ru Deng, who wore a righteous facade but harbored inner darkness.
However, there were also unconventional spirits. For instance, the one who initially chose Ru Deng was a compassionate Holy Mother spirit. She was drawn to his appearance but disliked his true nature. During her time with Ru Deng, her Holy Mother instincts often prevailed. When Ru Deng was about to kill someone, she went on strike. Given Ru Deng’s temperament, this was intolerable. Eventually, she orchestrated a situation, using another’s hand to end her own life, inadvertently boosting his reputation.
(Note: 聖母 [Shèngmǔ] = Holy Mother, internet slang, pejorative for bleeding heart)
Now, Shen Qi had arrived, choosing Ru Deng before the Holy Mother spirit had the chance. Unexpectedly, Ru Deng possessed such striking features — a true waste for a monk.
But what did it matter if he was a monk? Shen Qi grinned at Ru Deng. First, he was his lover and only second, a monk.
Ru Deng chanted “Amitabha Buddha,” palms pressed together, his gaze fixed on Shen Qi. He seemed entirely unbothered by his past being laid bare: “I am Monk Ru Deng. Pleased to meet you.”
His demeanor was refined, akin to an immortal.
Shen Qi didn’t reveal his name but instead repeated his earlier question: “Do you like the welcome gift I gave you?”
His tone was casual, yet his gaze remained fixed on Ru Deng’s face.
Ru Deng showed no signs of anger. Instead, he smiled gently: “They say spirits can see through a person’s entire history. It seems to be true. Since you’ve seen everything about me, do you think I like it or not?”
Shen Qi raised an eyebrow, then waved his hand. The scorching flames vanished, restoring calm to the village. Women resumed washing clothes by the lake, men returned to their farming and hunting, and children played under the large willow tree. Everything settled into a peaceful and idyllic scene, like a painted scroll.
“Then how about this one? Do you like it?”
Ru Dang gazed at the distant scenery, his expression serene. “Thank you, I quite like it.”
“Ru Deng, life and death are like a flickering lamp.” Shen Qi drew closer, catching a faint whiff of sandalwood from Ru Deng. A meaningful smile played on Shen Qi’s lips. “I like it too.” (Note: 如燈 [Rú dēng] from 生死如燈滅 [shēngsǐ rú dēng miè], a saying that means once you die, it's all over. No life after death, just eternal darkness.)
With a wave of his hand, the picturesque scene transformed into an actual scroll, which he handed to Ru Deng. “I am Shen Qi, the spirit bound to this ‘Coming and Going’ scroll. From today onward, I serve you. Will you accept?”
Ru Deng joined his palms together, smiling. “Naturally.”
“In that case…” Shen Qi’s lips curved into an intriguing arc. He reached out, hooking Ru Deng’s robe. The crimson birthmark on Ru Deng’s forehead seemed almost ready to bleed against his fair skin and rosy lips — a striking beauty. “Let’s form a bond. Do you know how to do it?” His elongated tone held deeper implications. “Heavenly Master…”
In just a few sentences, Shen Qi had combined the story with what he knew. He had a rough understanding of Ru Deng’s character. Gentleness and persuasion wouldn’t work, so he chose a direct approach. There was a saying — if you can't their heart, get the person first. Regardless of the path, the destination was the same.
Why tiptoe around when he could lay his intentions bare? After all, they were bound to reach this point. Different paths, same destination.
Thinking this, Shen Qi couldn’t help but smile. It seemed he hadn’t fully transitioned from his time with Dragon Chi. His thought process remained straightforward and forceful.
But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
He looked at Ru Deng with a confident expression, certain that Ru Deng wouldn’t refuse.
Ru Deng’s eyes held a hint of surprise, but soon, he smiled. It was a smile of elegance and warmth, still reflecting that gentle demeanor. He reached out, gently caressing Shen Qi’s cheek. His eyes carried both tenderness and sorrow. “I won't defy your wish.”
Had Shen Qi not caught that elusive hint of mischief in Ru Deng’s eyes, he might have believed the monk’s appearance of self-sacrifice to the feed the wolf.
With a wave of his hand, the surroundings shifted. Starlight filled the sky above, and beneath his feet lay a blood-red sea of flowers. The scene was both celestial and earthy. Shen Qi reclined backward, his clothes partially undone. The fiery red fabric blended with the floral sea, accentuating his snow-white skin with vibrant allure.
Smiling, he asked, “Do you like it?” It was unclear whether he referred to the scenery or the person.
In a drawn-out tone, he softly called, “Heavenly Master…”
Ru Deng’s pupils contracted, and after a brief pause, he leaned down.
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