Chapter 39: The Ask Immortal Pavilion and Jianghu Affairs

Another dull day passed.

After closing his shop following dinner, Zuo Meng encountered a cloaked figure in black upon stepping into the street. The masked man whispered a cryptic phrase before hastily departing:

“An immortal strokes my crown, bestowing eternal life. Seek the Dragon Emperor Temple west of the city for the path to longevity.”

Longevity?

Had cults already emerged so soon after the world’s upheaval?

Curious about their growth, Zuo Meng decided to investigate. Current laws still limited cultivation to the Foundation Establishment stage. Only after the second and third cataclysms would Core Formation and Nascent Soul experts emerge, truly ushering in an era of immortals.

“Do you believe in immortals?”

A gatekeeper swathed in black robes confronted Zuo Meng at the entrance.

“Naturally.”

“Have you met an immortal?”

“I once glimpsed a Mountain God upon a stone.” Zuo Meng recalled the Seven Stones he’d sealed during the era’s dawn. Though the wild one had likely broken free, the remaining six’s whereabouts remained unknown—their influence might already permeate this changing world.

The black-robed figure jerked his head up, studying Zuo Meng’s face intently before tossing him a black Token.

“Proceed left into the hidden passage. Show this at the entrance.”

Having screened his worthiness, the guard ignored him. Unqualified visitors would’ve been redirected elsewhere.

Descending through winding tunnels, Zuo Meng emerged into an expansive underground complex. Night pearls studded the vaulted ceiling like stars, illuminating a bustling black pavilion. A bulletin board stood nearby, its announcements mirroring government wanted posters but detailing immortal-related affairs.

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Ask Immortal Pavilion

The board listed recent supernatural events in Suzhou and confirmed “immortals”—topped by Cold Mountain Temple’s traitor Jie Ming, dubbed Son of the Frost Buddha. Second and third places went to unnamed Taoist and Sword sect disciples. Over twenty entries appeared, each requiring payment for full details.

“The pavilion master knows his trade.” Zuo Meng admired the entrepreneur behind this venture.

Lower sections advertised recent headlines for aspiring immortal-seekers:

*Cold Mountain Temple’s New Calamity: Knife King’s Visit on July 15*

Knife King? Likely another early inheritor like Zhi Hua, empowered during the world’s first upheaval.

“Jie Nian’s been scrambling to counter his traitorous junior brother,” Zuo Meng mused, recalling the monk’s near-fatal exploration of Black Forest’s underground palace. Having planted martial roots at Cold Mountain Temple himself, Zuo Meng paid for detailed reports on both fellow disciples, anticipating future dealings.

The crowd mostly comprised ordinary folk sprinkled with inheritors like Zhi Hua. No Foundation Establishment cultivators were present—this resembled either wandering cultivators’ gathering or a premeditated immortal faction. Regardless, it posed no threat to Zuo Meng’s plans. He’d simply await the golden silhouette’s grand scheme before reaping rewards.

“A profitable sideline.”

Zuo Meng began selling “Totemic Cultivation Methods”—improvised guides for inheritors clueless about wielding their totemic powers. These “inheritance” weren’t true techniques but seeds implanted in mortals to manipulate worldly laws. All inheritors ultimately served the golden shadow’s designs.

Over subsequent nights, Zuo Meng’s manuals sold steadily, resolving his financial woes. No longer would creation require empty coffers.

July 15 arrived.

A black-clad swordsman climbed Cold Mountain Temple’s steps, blade in hand—no ordinary pilgrim.

“The Knife King!”

Runners shouted up the mountain despite the temple’s recent troubles. Spectators craned their necks as the commotion reached the gates.

“Amitabha.” An aged monk barred the swordsman’s path—the same welcoming monk who’d once received Zuo Meng. “This holy ground forbids weapons.”

“My blade stays with me till death.” The Knife King stamped, cracking stone steps as he lunged sword-first at the monk.

Gray robes billowing, the monk unleashed decades’ worth of cultivated energy—remarkable progress enabled by Cold Mountain Temple’s early access to internal energy techniques and the world’s spiritual energy resurgence.

High-level energy supercharged cultivation. Prodigies like Jie Ming and Taoist elites amassed century-deep reserves within years, some nearing two centuries’ potency.

The monk’s palm strike intercepted the blade mid-slash, repelling the Knife King with resonant force.