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Chapter 342: Kunlun Yuxu

However, he had already requested the meeting, and since the other party had agreed, backing out now would be disrespectful.

Zhao Changhe put away the unfinished sword and the atlas and began his ascent up the mountain.

Kunlun City was built along the mountains. Entering from the west led directly to Yuxu Peak. All the activities he had engaged in so far only took place on the peripheral peaks; the actual Yuxu Peak was off-limits to unauthorized individuals. According to Yang Qianyuan, only those whose identities had been verified and accepted by Daoist Yuxu were granted entry. Others, who either were unverified or preferred the convenience of the city, resided within the confines of the city.

Could Daoist Yuxu, the very same who shelters such a large group of evildoers, truly be that humble woodsman who sang with such great inner peace?

Zhao Changhe was unsure.

There was only one narrow path leading up the mountain, one that had probably been trodden by countless others.

Snow blanketed the surroundings, even covering the narrow path itself, indicating that no one had climbed the mountain for quite some time. Yet the little stream alongside it ran clear and unfrozen.

There were no guards. He walked for a long time without encountering a single soul.

No guards were needed. The deterrence of the figure ranked fourth on the Ranking of Heaven was enough. No one dared to enter without permission.

Zhao Changhe looked up at the mist-shrouded peak, which could not be observed from below, and continued his climb.

As he walked, his chaotic thoughts began to dissipate, and his mind became clearer. His steps became leisurely as well.

There was no need to rush, and overthinking things was pointless. It would do him better to slow down, take in the snowy sights of Kunlun, and observe the clouds of Yuxu.

He did not want to return one day and have Tang Wanzhuang ask him what Kunlun looked like only to be left speechless, unable to answer.

The woodsman’s song from that day echoed faintly in his mind. Cloudy peaks, separating the shores of the mortal world; journeying and observing, within the flagon a vast world.

There was a slight coolness at his Baihui acupoint[1] on the top of his head, where external qi communicated with internal qi, transforming into warmth within his body and dispersing into the wind and snow. This cyclical process, characteristic of the ninth layer of the Profound Gate, involved the conversion of acquired qi into innate qi, and it was a cultivation experience he had yet to fully explore.

There was a slight pulsation at the center of his brow, a sense of impending insight that was elusive and indescribable. Trying to grasp it in detail revealed nothing tangible, yet it was clear that something was in fact there, waiting for him.

This was what it meant to be on the brink of breakthrough. It was the point at which you became constantly aware of the next realm’s existence, knowing that with just that last push, you would be able to step into the next realm of cultivation.

The path of a master was a journey of seeking the Dao. It involved a comprehensive transformation and elevation of one’s mind, techniques, and understanding of martial arts.

He was indeed just one step away.

Unknowingly, Zhao Changhe had already been climbing the mountain for four or five hours, from noon until sunset. He had climbed very high, yet the peak still seemed elusive. The clouds of the mountain seemed to envelop him, and looking back, the fog made the world below appear like the land of immortals.

At some point, he began to hear the faint sound of wood being chopped. Initially distant, it gradually grew closer. Each chop was rhythmic and resonant.

Zhao Changhe continued walking, unconsciously aligning his steps with the rhythm of the chopping. He noticed that the intervals between chops were perfectly consistent, as precise as a machine.

The clouds began to part, revealing several wood cabins ahead. The melted snow formed streams that flowed around the cabins and down the mountain.

From a distance, Zhao Changhe gazed at the cabins in the distance. Surrounded by clouds and mist, the cabins didn’t seem like something built by human hands; rather, they seemed to have existed in harmony with Kunlun since the beginning of time.

Of course, this was an illusion. They were definitely built by man, but the man who built them had achieved such unity with nature that it made things seem otherwise.

Zhao Changhe’s eyes finally settled on the large courtyard in the center of the cabins, where a pile of firewood lay seemingly haphazardly. An old woodsman calmly picked up a log, split it in half with a single strike, and tossed the pieces aside before grabbing another log.

Zhao Changhe just watched quietly, not disturbing him.

From start to finish, every movement of the woodsman seemed like a mechanical repetition of the previous one, yet there was no feeling of rigidity. Each chop flowed naturally as if the air itself moved with the swing. The ax was like the wind, the blade like snow, creating a harmonious beauty rather than robotic monotony.

However, the direction of the wind and snow were clearly not with his chopping, making it difficult to understand how he achieved such an effect.

Was it the ax that merged with the wind and snow? Or did the ax guide the wind and snow?

But the wind and snow remained unchanged.

Zhao Changhe took a long breath, closed his eyes, and replayed the actions of the woodsman in his mind. To his surprise, he felt a wave of dizziness.

The gap in their levels was too vast for him to even comprehend the other party’s actions.

Thwack!

The woodsman split the last log and casually tossed it aside.

The split logs stacked perfectly, forming a neat, precise shape as if meticulously measured. The length, width, and height, were all exactly the same, forming a perfect cube.

Zhao Changhe did not need to measure it to know it was exact. It felt like the old man was either showing off or perhaps trying to demonstrate something. However, the gap between them really was just too wide, and even if it was a demonstration, it only added to the impression of showing off.

He finally sighed. “Old man, I’ve come to have a drink with you.”

The old woodsman stood up and went inside. He smiled and said, “The snow will get heavier soon, come inside for a drink.”

Zhao Changhe followed him into the nearby cabin. There was a stove burning inside, making it quite warm and cozy. A large vat of wine was warming on the stove. The old woodsman, seemingly oblivious to the heat, grabbed the vat and set it on the table with a thud, then said sternly, “You came at the wrong time. I could have quoted, ‘evening descends, so too heavy snow, care to enjoy a cup with me?’[2] But now it’s already snowing, and that line doesn’t fit anymore. It bothers me quite a bit.”

The corners of Zhao Changhe’s mouth twitched and his expression turned odd.

You’re the man ranked fourth in the world. Are these wood cabins what makes up Yuxu Palace?

The woodsman took out two large bowls, poured wine from the vat, and said, “Right, you should be the one treating me to a drink. How did it turn into me treating you?”

Zhao Changhe replied, “Why should I be the one treating you? I’m the guest here...”

“Without my advice on your inner fire, could you have handled the flames of Kunlun?”

“Uh...” Zhao Changhe conceded, “I should thank you for that, senior. But was I supposed to carry a jar of wine up the mountain?”

“Why not?”

Zhao Changhe thought for a moment. “I suppose I could. Next time, for sure.”

As they exchanged words, the two bowls of wine were filled just right. The woodsman set down the vat of wine, and raised his bowl for a toast. “It’s been a long time since anyone has shared a drink with this old man. Your visit is timely.”

Zhao Changhe asked, “Does Senior Thief Saint not come around?”

“He doesn’t like it here. Every time he comes, I can see him suppressing his urge to steal something. Unfortunately, he can’t really steal anything even if he wants to. These three cabins hold nothing but me, and he can’t stand it.”

Zhao Changhe could not help but ask, “It’s said that many villains come here. Is Yuxu Palace really an organization of evildoers? Why is it just you here?”

“If that were true, would you have dared to come here for a drink?”

“Why not? It’s not like I’m some saint either.”

The old woodsman said calmly, “Hah, the evildoers who entered this mountain, they naturally all ended up dead. If I don’t carefully evaluate them first, it would not be right to just let anyone in here to die, don’t you think?”

Zhao Changhe: “...”

So, the place that people think is a refuge for evildoers is actually a death trap for them?

“Drink up,” the old woodsman said, downing his bowl of wine with relish and wiping his mouth with satisfaction. “What I do here is not your concern. Asking too many questions won’t do you any good. You’re a young man who, seeing the cold wind and snow, was willing to offer an old woodsman a coat. I’m happy to share a drink with you, and that’s all there is to it. After this, go from whence you came. Your path to becoming a master is not here.”

1. This is generally seen as the same point that Tianling refers to. ☜

2. This is a reference to “A Question Addressed to Liu Shijiu” (问刘十九) by Tang dynasty poet Bai Juyi (白居易) ☜