Chapter 160: Wenbi Tower

The next morning, led by A Su, Mu Feng and Jing Wushuang ascended Western Huashan Mountain located east of Jianshui City early on.

Jianshui City was surrounded by rolling mountains, but the highest peak within dozens of miles was Western Huashan Mountain inside the city. This mountain was not large and far less grand than the distant mountain ranges, but it was steep and rose abruptly from a small plain. From the foot to the summit, there was a long, narrow stone staircase. In some sections, one side was a sheer, smooth cliff face while the other was a bottomless abyss, allowing only one person to pass at a time.

At the mountain’s base was a clear lake with lotus leaves floating on the gently flowing water. Occasionally, colorful koi could be seen swimming beneath the surface. They would emerge to nibble on duckweed, then flick their tails and vanish beneath the lotus leaves. Looking up from the foot of the mountain, the misty summit faintly revealed a corner of a Daoist temple. Blue bricks, black tiles, and orderly horse-head walls appeared and disappeared amidst the drifting clouds and mist.

“A mountain doesn’t need to be high; with immortals, it becomes divine. Water doesn’t need to be deep; with fish, it becomes lively… Could there really be legendary immortals here?”

Gazing up at the cloud-wreathed peak from the base, Mu Feng felt a sense of longing and recalled the beloved “Guangling Miscellany” he once could not put down.

In the boundless Great Thousand World, immortals had always been elusive figures of legend. It was said that immortals possessed great powers, lived carefree and immortal lives deep in mountains, ancient forests, or on remote fairy islands, inspiring endless yearning. Throughout history, many people had traveled the world hoping to find traces of these immortals.

Mortal Realm, Elite Realm, True Human Realm, Saint Realm, God Transformation Realm—these were the five major cultivation stages. Typically, the True Human Realm was the limit for most cultivators and represented the highest existence in people’s minds. Thus, in the Great Thousand World, cultivation was often called “seeking truth.” However, some ancient Daoist Sects were different; they secretly referred to cultivation as “seeking immortality,” embodying their aspiration and pursuit of the immortal path.

“Yes, of course! It’s said many people have seen traces of immortals on this mountain. There are still famous sites like the Immortal Cave and Lingering Immortal Pond up there!”

A Su, who was leading the way, stopped and pointed excitedly at the mist-shrouded peak as he introduced the local landmarks to Mu Feng and Jing Wushuang. “Young Master Mu, let’s hurry up the mountain while the morning mist hasn’t lifted. Once the sun hits this side, the climb will be even more exhausting.”

“Alright, let’s go!”

Mu Feng nodded and walked side by side with Jing Wushuang. Treading on the morning dew, the three climbed higher and higher along the steep stone steps.

Every few hundred meters, a pavilion was built along the mountain path for rest stops. Despite the early hour, many vendors were already hawking their goods in the pavilions—some selling mountain spring water, others medicinal herbs… and from time to time, tattered beggars could be seen. At first glance, no energy fluctuations could be sensed within them, as if they were all ordinary folks. But after passing several pavilions, Mu Feng frowned and quietly grew more alert.

The mountain path was rugged, often with unfathomable cliffs beside them. A slight bump from someone could send one tumbling down, leading to eternal doom!

Sure enough, upon closer observation, he noticed several vendors occasionally revealing faint water-drop-shaped tattoos on their wrists under their sleeves. Although they went about their business normally, pretending to be regular vendors, they clearly belonged to the same group.

Disciples of the Immortal Sword Sect, or spies under Blind Master’s command?

A cold glint flashed in Mu Feng’s eyes as he secretly stirred the Ancestral Sorcerer’s Essence Blood within him, ready to launch a preemptive strike.

Unlike the previous night, A Su was dressed as a page boy, posing as Mu Feng’s attendant while leading the way. Though walking ahead, he was extremely sharp-eyed and attentive. With one glance at Mu Feng’s expression behind him, he understood the situation and slowed down to whisper beside Mu Feng, “Young Master Mu, no need to be nervous. These vendors and beggars are all our watchers. With them monitoring along the path, no suspicious stranger can get close to us!”

Allies?

Mu Feng raised an eyebrow and asked softly, “These people look like ordinary folks with no energy fluctuations, but they seem suspicious. A Su, are you sure they’re all on our side?”

“Absolutely, Young Master Mu, rest assured!”

Without turning his head, A Su walked on, slightly bowing his head as he continued quietly, “They are originally ordinary people who frequent this area, so they don’t attract strangers’ attention. On the surface, they mind their own business without interfering, but secretly they’re all members of the Jianshui Gang. The water-drop tattoo on their wrists is their gang’s mark. Their leader, Wu Jiu, happens to be Grandpa’s sworn brother.”

Jianshui Gang?

Mu Feng nodded and gradually relaxed. Outwardly, he remained composed, but inwardly, he kept a degree of vigilance. It wasn’t that he distrusted the chivalrous Flying Sky Bat or the local influence of the Jianshui Gang, but after enduring many hardships, he had developed a habit of not entirely entrusting his safety to others.

Led by A Su, Mu Feng and Jing Wushuang ascended along the perilous stone staircase, passing by famous sites like the Immortal Cave and Lingering Immortal Pond. Many visitors bowed devoutly at these spots, prostrating themselves and mumbling prayers for the ancient immortals’ protection. But to Mu Feng, aside from being remote and serene with slightly denser Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy, these places held little marvel. After a brief stay, they continued upward and reached a majestic Daoist temple.

The ancient temple was built on the steep mountaintop. Standing at its gate and looking down, white clouds drifted halfway up the mountain. Gazing around, all other peaks seemed small, and the distant rolling mountains and dense primal forests stretched beyond sight. The mottled walls, the aged bronze ritual bells hanging under the eaves, and the poems left by scholars and poets throughout the ages all silently narrated the temple’s long history.

Though situated high on the peak with difficult access, the temple maintained constant incense smoke, with worshippers coming and going. After watching Jing Wushuang follow A Su into the temple to burn incense and make wishes, Mu Feng decided to wander alone along a quiet forest path. As he walked, he unintentionally arrived before an ancient tower.

Outside, the area bustled with noise, but here it was exceptionally tranquil. Standing beneath the ancient tower, he faintly heard rolling thunder. Looking up, he saw dark clouds gathering above the tower, as if a storm was approaching. Taking a few steps closer, he saw a couplet written on the tower’s main gate. On the left: “Writing Carries the Dao,” and on the right: “Brushstrokes Chronicle the Annals.” The horizontal inscription read: “Wenbi Tower.”

“Excellent! ‘Writing Carries the Dao, Brushstrokes Chronicle the Annals’—what a fine couplet!”

Mu Feng nodded, pondered briefly, and then stepped forward. The simple couplet on the ancient tower revealed to him the spirit and passion of scholars since ancient times. Warriors forged legends with their swords, while scholars depicted history with their brushes!

Hu long…

As he stepped into the ancient tower, Mu Feng faintly heard another clap of thunder, as if it had exploded right above the tower, causing the entire structure to tremble.