Chapter 20: Ascending the Mountain
Chapter 20: Ascending the Mountain
“Greetings, Master!”
Young Hero Zuo dropped to his knees without hesitation, having long abandoned any pretense of dignity. He had joked to himself – wasn’t this exactly why he’d fled down the mountain? To avoid getting caught in the ‘protagonist’s halo’ of his Junior Sister and master that might endanger his life? His obsession with becoming stronger was just for survival, and now that a powerful patron offered protection, why not cling to it?
“Good.”
The Black Wind Lord showed no surprise at Zuo Meng’s decision.
Having achieved his purpose for descending the mountain, the Black Wind Lord simply gathered Zuo Meng and two others before returning to Heifeng Fort.
“To the mountain.”
Half a day later,
Zuo Meng’s carriage halted before a mist-shrouded peak. Alighting, he gazed up at the massive stone mountain where a winding path disappeared into swirling fog. The black windstones composing the mountain wailed under the wind’s touch like grieving spirits, making his skin crawl. The legendary Heifeng Fort crowned this ominous peak.
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After disembarking, the Black Wind Lord began ascending with his group.
Zuo Meng followed.
The temperature plunged as they climbed. By mid-mountain, freezing winds carried black snowflakes that bit through clothing. Zuo Meng noted the three figures ahead moved effortlessly, their pace quickening despite the harsh conditions.
“Strange energy permeates this mountain,” he muttered, catching a black snowflake. When the others nearly vanished ahead, he hurried after.
Past the midpoint, winds eased but fog thickened. Within hundred paces, Zuo Meng lost sight of both path behind and companions ahead. Only the mountain’s mournful wails and snow’s whisper remained.
Forced onward, he walked half an hour.
Half an hour later,
No visible path fore or aft. Only mist and three stone steps remained in sight. By elevation, he should’ve reached the summit long ago, yet the peak stayed hidden. The others had disappeared completely, leaving him alone in the entire world.
Another half hour passed.
Upon stepping off the 13,000th stair, clarity suddenly returned. The mist vanished, revealing a celestial realm above the clouds.
“Indeed superior to Liuhe Sect. Worthy of a Lord’s sanctuary.”
Below, clouds veiled the mountain while above, structures floated ethereally amidst an otherworldly aura.
“Test your aptitude.”
The gruff boatman who’d followed Human Respect spoke.
“How should I address you, Senior Brother?”
Zuo Meng clasped hands. As fellow disciples, names should be known.
“I’m no Lord’s disciple. Call me Boatman.” The cold-faced man gestured to a test stone. “First rule – aptitude test.”
The stone offered no clues. Zuo Meng shrugged and pressed his palm down.
Two vibrations. Silence.
“Lower Second-Class.”
The Boatman frowned, then pulled out a booklet from his robe and tossed it to Zuo Meng—a cultivation method matching his low-tier talent.
“This is your cultivation method.”
With that, the Boatman turned to leave.
“Wait, senior brother Boatman! I’ve got a question.”
Talent? Since when had Young Hero Zuo ever relied on such things? Second-rate or third-tier ratings meant nothing to someone surviving by his golden finger. Unfazed by the assessment, he casually grabbed the Boatman’s sleeve.
The Boatman blinked at this odd reaction. Ordinary people would wallow in despair after receiving a second-rate rating, yet this one acted as if hearing tomorrow’s weather forecast. Remembering Zuo Meng’s earlier display of skill aboard the boat, the Boatman paused. Even without talent, such martial prowess could carve a path in the jianghu.
“What is it?”
“Does Heifeng Fort produce dust powder?”
Now inside the fortress, Zuo Meng cut straight to the point. Everything else could wait. Find the dust powder source, absorb its energy, modify his internal strength by ten millennia—then no Human Respect or Heavenly Lord could withstand his slap. Invincibility awaited.
“Dust powder? It’s indeed our specialty.”
The Boatman’s confirmation lit a fire in Zuo Meng’s eyes. “Where’s it from?”
After brief hesitation, the Boatman relented—Zuo Meng was technically part of the fortress now.
“The Lord’s alchemy room. Every failed pill leaves heaps of it. What outsiders buy as treasure is just our Lord’s discarded dregs.”
“Dregs?!”
Zuo Meng’s jaw dropped. External alchemists fought over this ‘treasure’, yet here it was mere trash from Black Wind Lord’s failures. But why did waste contain energy? He’d investigate the alchemy room tonight—maybe the Dream World’s energy hid in certain materials.
“Any dust powder here now?”
Priorities first. Explanations could wait.
“Check the storage room. Unsold stock piles there.” The Boatman walked away without another glance.
Zuo Meng headed straight for storage. Typical Black Wind Lord—accepting disciples then abandoning them with a manual and no lodgings.
“You’re master’s new rat?”
A human-shaped boulder blocked his path—thick as a black bear with vise-grip fingers, radiating primal menace. Strangely, no internal energy pulsed from the mountain of muscle.
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