Chapter Five: The Eight Profound Gateways

Fortunately, there was a mountain god temple ahead. Perhaps because it had stood for years, battered by wind and sun and neglected by all, the temple’s walls were peeling and even the roof had collapsed in several places. Only the words “Blessings for a Thousand Autumns,” hanging above the threshold, remained faintly visible.

Though somewhat decrepit, it offered more than enough shelter from the rain. Yi An entered the temple and saw within a statue of the deity, surprisingly well-preserved and still exuding an aura of authority.

He found a relatively clean spot and collapsed heavily onto it, a self-mocking smile tugging at his lips. The life of a mortal was like a sea of suffering; whether one held high office and fame or lived plainly and achieved nothing, in the end, all would dissolve into nothingness, enduring the bitter cycle of reincarnation.

If one were reborn, would it still be oneself?

In other words, this world itself was like a prison; even the countless gods scattered across the heavens might not truly command their own fate.

Yi An shook his head, casting aside these distant thoughts. The most pressing matter now was to embark upon the path of cultivation. Only then could he hope to possess the power to protect himself. There were three thousand ways to reach the other shore, yet not every method of cultivation suited him.

Some techniques forged by ancient sages were formidable, but in this world, spiritual energy was sparse, rare treasures even scarcer. Moreover, the more powerful the method, the higher the demands on one’s innate talent. After much deliberation, Yi An still believed that the scroll of the Dao Canon was best suited for him.

The Dao Canon speaks of the cosmic foundation, contains the mechanisms of heaven and earth’s transformation, and holds the secrets of divine manifestations. Though not the strongest, it is remarkably inclusive.

Others might not know, but Yi An was well aware: this Dao Canon was authored by the Supreme Sage, Laozi. It not only encompassed his insights but also many wondrous mysteries.

For example, if one began cultivating with a conventional method and later wished to switch to another, they would have to start over from scratch. But the Dao Canon embraced all things, probing the origin of myriad phenomena, making techniques more compatible with one another.

At this thought, Yi An recalled how he had come by this method.

At that time, he wandered the primordial wilds. One day, he saw clouds and mist ahead, with immortal cranes dancing within, waterfalls cascading from cliff tops, and countless exotic flowers and herbs—a scene of breathtaking beauty, truly a paradise.

Naturally, Yi An could not resist exploring further.

It turned out he had arrived at Laozi’s Eight Views Palace, and as luck would have it, Laozi was at that very moment instructing his first disciple, Xuan Du, passing on the Dao Canon. Yi An, who was quietly observing from the side, greatly benefited; Laozi was completely unaware, and to this day, he does not know that his proudest technique was secretly learned by another.

Yi An was merely a cluster of consciousness, formless and traceless. Even if Laozi had already become a sage, even if Hongjun himself arrived, it is unlikely they would have detected his presence.

The path of cultivation comprised eight major thresholds: Foundation Building, Return to Origin, Out-of-Body, Night Roaming, Day Roaming, Moving Objects, Manifestation, and Thunder Tribulation. Once one passed the Thunder Tribulation, the mortal body would be shed, and the immortal body achieved.

The first step, Foundation Building, required opening the meridians throughout the body and establishing the Purple Mansion. The initial hurdle was to generate the first strand of true energy within the Purple Mansion, marking entry into the path.

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Late at night, Yi An sat cross-legged, breathing in and out according to the Dao Canon’s method. Unknowingly, one of his internal meridians had already opened. Once all nine meridians were clear, he could establish the Purple Mansion and formally enter the gate of cultivation.

He stretched slightly, feeling refreshed and more comfortable in body and spirit than ever before.

“At this rate, it will take at least two months to build my foundation. After all, I cannot stay here indefinitely; who knows when the minions of the Moruo Sect might show up,” Yi An thought.

In truth, for ordinary people, completing Foundation Building in a hundred days was considered excellent talent. Cultivation should not be rushed; only steady progress was fundamental.

Outside, the fine rain continued to fall. Whether it was his imagination or not, Yi An seemed to faintly hear subtle sounds—hoofbeats, perhaps. Not daring to be careless, he stopped his practice and focused his attention outward.

He saw a group of over a dozen people, all wearing bamboo hats. At the front, a man rode a black steed, weapons hanging at his side, obviously the leader. Behind him followed two horse-drawn carriages, all hastening toward the mountain god temple.

Yi An was startled. At first glance, he thought they were Moruo Sect pursuers, but their attire clearly was not; they must simply be travelers seeking shelter from the rain, just as he was.

“There’s someone ahead. Be careful, everyone,” the leader on horseback also spotted Yi An immediately, speaking quietly, his gaze sharp and fixed on Yi An. In the dead of night, in the wilderness, a scholar’s presence here was highly unusual.

When he saw Yi An’s face clearly, he uttered an exclamation, dismounted, removed his bamboo hat, and revealed his true appearance, clasping his hands in greeting. “So it’s you, Master Yi. What brings you here?”

Yi An paused, but quickly recalled the man’s identity from memory: he was from the Zhenyuan Escort Agency, and the leader, Feng Qichuan, was known as the agency’s foremost escort master—famous throughout Yingchuan.

By rights, a scholar and a martial artist should have little in common.

Yet Feng Qichuan had a son whom he cherished deeply. Knowing well the dark side of the martial world, he naturally did not wish his son to follow in his footsteps.

Because of this, Yi An had been hired as his son’s tutor.

“I need to go to Hangzhou. Taking this route saves time compared to the official road,” Yi An replied courteously, offering an explanation.

Feng Qichuan responded, “I see. Scholar Yi, you are indeed bold.”

Yi An asked, “Why does Escort Chief Feng not take the official road?”

This mountain path was treacherous and ill-suited for carriages. That was the first point, and besides, even the official roads were unsafe; how much more so here?

Feng Qichuan’s eyes flickered, his expression momentarily complex, but it passed quickly. “This escort is urgent. The official road would delay us.”

Yi An nodded. Though he knew the answer was half-hearted, he did not press further. Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with him, and he had no need to meddle.

“With our brothers taking turns to keep watch, Master Yi, you may rest easy,” Feng Qichuan said kindly.

It was a sensible suggestion and gave him an opportunity to win favor. Why not? Though Yi An was now a penniless scholar, he had great potential. Who knew if he might someday become an official?

In their line of work, they always believed: the more friends, the more paths. After all, it cost him nothing.