Chapter 71: Emerging from Seclusion

Xue Chuan emerged from the hidden chamber. His physical form had remained there for six hundred years of Closed Door Meditation while his true self journeyed beyond the Three Realms. There, he used the Creator’s power to fully perfect his cultivation method. Six centuries might seem lengthy in the mortal world, but time’s flow became negligible beyond the Three Realms.

“Uncle Xue! You’ve finally ended your seclusion!”

Seeing the unchanged appearance of her elder after six centuries, Zhi Hua felt an unexpected sense of distance.

Time had left no mark on Zuo Meng’s face, preserving him exactly as she remembered. Yet Zhi Hua now appeared thirtyish, her spirit wearied by solitude. Golden Core Cultivators might theoretically live millennia, just as mortals might reach 140 years – but how many truly did?

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Struggling through life’s mire inevitably leaves scars.

“Little Zhi Hua.”

Zuo Meng’s smile mirrored that distant day when she’d first stumbled into his Qing Stone Alley shop. The memory drew unexpected tears from Zhi Hua. Age brings tender emotions.

“Mr. Xue remains unchanged,” remarked Yu Ruyi, her youthful features now shadowed with exhaustion. “While we’ve grown old.”

Once ruler of Suzhou’s underworld, later Master of The Immortal Palace – this power-hungry woman had served six centuries as acting Headmaster before tiring of it all. She envied Zuo Meng’s eternal composure.

“Your mental cultivation needs refinement.”

Zuo Meng instantly assessed both women.

Their law-enhanced strength proved unstable – their failure to reach Nascent Soul stage after centuries showed worldly favor couldn’t substitute true cultivation. Without mental discipline, immortality becomes torment. In this, even the slain Demon Monk Jie Ming surpassed them, his unwavering resolve lasting millennia until glimpsing Zuo Meng’s true form at death.

“Little Zhi Hua bore a son?”

Drawing six centuries’ history from the air, Zuo Meng paused at this revelation.

Zhi Hua flushed crimson. Her lonely coping mechanism stood exposed before her elder.

“Good. Bring him later.”

Summoning mist, Zuo Meng carried them toward the main hall.

“Headmaster Yu and Elder Zhi!”

“Who’s that man?”

“He resembles the Sacred Temple’s founder! The ancestor!”

“His portrait’s in the main hall!”

News of Tai Chu Immortal Gate’s founding ancestor emerging from seclusion swept through the realm. Messengers raced through immortal gates, spreading word until even Great Chu and the demon tribe halted their Border Wasteland war.

One man shook the world!

Though ranked third on the Heaven List, people knew Master Xue – creator of Foundation Establishment cultivation – as history’s true foremost Immortal Cultivator.

Unaware of his fame, Zuo Meng led the women to meet The Immortal Palace elders. After six centuries, few familiar faces remained. Bored by formalities, he delegated as always.

“Little Zhi Hua – where’s your son?”

Zuo Meng teased.

He never imagined that the Little Girl from back then would have the day when an old cow eats young grass. He couldn’t resist poking fun. Still, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Though over six hundred years old, Zhi Hua was an elder of the Tai Chu Immortal Gate. As the world’s oldest cultivation sect, its elders’ status rivaled that of a wealthy corporate heiress—suitors swarmed around her. Moreover, as a Golden Core Cultivator who’d mastered youth preservation, she radiated timeless beauty. Countless wandering cultivators, desperate for resources, surely longed to cling to her coattails.

“Ahem!”

Zhi Hua coughed sharply. Even after all these years, Uncle Xue’s irreverent nature hadn’t changed one bit.

“Not at the clan?”

“The entrance examination is tomorrow,” Yu Ruyi said, covering a laugh. She knew Zhi Hua’s situation well—she’d even helped name little Zhi Mo.

“Why bother with exams? Just take him in.”

“Our Tai Chu Immortal Gate isn’t the small sect it once was. As the oldest immortal gates, we’re under constant scrutiny. We must keep up appearances, lest rumors spread about unfair examinations.”

“I make the rules.”

Zuo Meng waved dismissively. When had he ever cared about propriety? A man who’d profited from shady deals hardly feared idle gossip.

“Enough. Everyone rest. Tomorrow, bring Zhi Mo to me—I’ll find him a proper teacher.”

After ushering out Yu Ruyi and Zhi Hua, Zuo Meng stepped outside. Gazing at the artificial stars above the blessed land, his eyes gleamed strangely.

“The final upheaval approaches.”

His six-century Closed Door Meditation had ended precisely because he’d sensed the laws’ last tremor, pulling him back from beyond the Three Realms. This ultimate shift would eclipse all prior changes combined, unleashing terrifying power. Transformation God experts would emerge, perhaps even true immortals.

“The seeds I planted should sprout then. Show me your schemes.”

He recalled the mysterious auras that descended before his seclusion. Upon awakening, he’d sensed their bearers thriving—Zhi Xin’er reaching Golden Core, disciples Zhao Zheng and Du Fan touching the threshold of harmony with the Dao, even some distant cousin’s unnamed son becoming a Nascent Soul noble in Great Chu.

“Don’t disappoint me. Let this dream end beautifully.”

When the laws settled, Zuo Meng would wake—and this dream would dissolve into the real world.