Volume One, Chapter Five: The Path of Peachwood

At the same moment, dressed in the same attire and heading in the same direction, another large group of people arrived. Yet, the aura they exuded was astonishingly different. Today’s visitors radiated an intangible immortal spirit, so potent that one dared not meet their gaze directly. The two companions, the Sect Master and the Grand Elder, were themselves figures of profound cultivation, yet in comparison to these newcomers, they seemed as lowly as clay to the clouds.

This time, only the Sect Master and Grand Elder were allowed to accompany them; neither the Sect Master’s wife nor the Vice-Sect Master was present, indicating the extraordinary status of the guests.

At the head of the group walked an elder, whose presence was at once ethereal and imposing, his wide sleeves billowing as he strode ahead. Upon entering the valley, his eyes fell immediately upon the ancient tree at the heart, its branches ablaze with fresh peach blossoms.

The elder, delighted, exclaimed, “So the sacred tree has bloomed at last! Three thousand years—it is no easy feat.” As he spoke, he sniffed the air, his voice tinged with surprise, “There is a faint fragrance of wine within these blossoms. Indeed, this is no ordinary tree but one that stands apart from all others.”

The Sect Master at his side inhaled deeply but detected nothing beyond the floral scent. Still, he knew this great figure would not deceive him, and the other companions showed expressions of equal rapture. Gazing upon the sacred tree, the Sect Master found himself instinctively filled with new reverence.

The elder, clearly noticing the Sect Master’s reaction, laughed heartily, “Zijie, that is the aura of the Profound Spirit—mortals cannot perceive it.”

The Sect Master bowed quickly, responding, “Thank you, Honored Ancestor, for your guidance.”

“Do not be disheartened, Zijie. I, too, was once like you—a common disciple in the Mortal Sect. For decades I sought enlightenment beneath this sacred tree, and with the tree’s blessing, I glimpsed the Dao and achieved my immortal body. Now a thousand years have passed in the blink of an eye. Alas, limited by my own talent, I have reached the end of my cultivation. To progress further is as hard as reaching for the heavens. Yet I still covet the sanctity attained by the Patriarch, so I do not dare slacken, cultivating day and night. Though I have lived over a thousand years, not a day has been as carefree as those of you mortals. Those who walk the path of cultivation soon forget the essence of their humanity; once one attains the Dao, one ceases to be mortal.”

The Sect Master listened attentively, uttering only respectful assent, not daring to interrupt.

The elder’s tone grew somber as he continued, “Without the means to ascend to immortality, no matter how long one lives, one’s day of transcendence will come. Now that the immortal path is blocked, even sainthood merely grants a few more days of life. Alas, such is fate!”

With that, he paid the group no further heed, striding away alone. The others followed in silence, their expressions, especially those of the cultivators, tinged with sorrow. Clearly, the elder’s words had struck a painful chord.

Arriving before the ancient tree, they began their worship.

Today’s ritual was far grander than that of the previous day. The valley was wreathed in incense smoke, celestial music wafting through the air, yet the atmosphere was oppressively solemn.

When the ceremony concluded, the crowd dispersed, leaving only select dignitaries from both the Dao and Mortal Sects to confer.

“Zijie,” the elder called to the Sect Master.

“Yes, Master,” he replied.

“From this day forth, seal off Peach Blossom Valley. Declare it forbidden ground, and admit no unauthorized person.”

“I obey the Ancestor’s command.”

“And instruct your disciples—let none speak of what transpires here. Any who do shall be put to death.”

“Yes, your words are etched upon my heart.”

“In the future, this place will again become a site for the disciples of our two sects to seek enlightenment. You must remain vigilant. I will also reconstruct a teleportation array here: for the ease of our disciples’ passage, and for the protection of the sacred tree.”

Zijie was overjoyed; establishing such a connection with the Dao Sect would bring untold benefits to his own. According to the sect’s annals, a teleportation array had once stood here but was abandoned five centuries prior.

The elder continued, “Upon my return, I shall select promising talents to send here for cultivation. Among your disciples, only Jin’er and Yu’er possess noteworthy potential—have those two young ones come as well. They are young; let them spend time near the sacred tree to bask in its blessings and absorb its spiritual energy. I will also have Dao Sect disciples instruct them—an immense benefit for their future. Should they succeed in their cultivation, they will add strength to our order.”

“Thank you for your boundless grace, Honored Ancestor.” The Sect Master and the Grand Elder, overwhelmed with joy, fell to their knees, kowtowing in gratitude.

Indeed, this was the sacred tree’s blessing—a boon from the heavens.

Jin and Yu were indeed rare talents in the mortal world, but in the realm of cultivators, such gifts were not uncommon. Even within the Daoist Peachwood Sect, they were by no means unique. If the sacred tree’s enlightenment could only yield a handful of such individuals, the lineage of the Dao Sect would have long since withered.

Yet those who achieved enlightenment through the sacred tree often accomplished extraordinary feats, hence its veneration.

Now, favored by the Ancestor’s grace, not only could the two youths meditate here, but also receive instruction from Dao Sect disciples. Those allowed to cultivate here would surely not be ordinary. How could such fortune fail to delight the two elders?

Though the paths of Dao and Mortal Sects diverged, the two originated from the same founder and were as inseparable as fish and water. Yet, in truth, the Mortal Sect was subordinate to the Daoist order. Were it not for their shared origin, and the fact that Daoist leaders often emerged from the Mortal Sect, how could a minor sect like Peachwood, unimpressive even among mortals, ever be under the protection of cultivators?

Elated, the two elders set out at once to implement the valley’s closure. The elder and his companions began constructing the teleportation array.

To Mu, everything in this world was a source of wonder. Bored as he was, he watched their every move with great interest, though he understood neither their words nor their intentions.

The elder chose a site not too near, not too far from the ancient tree to begin the construction. They placed shining crystals, scrolls, talismans, and other curious objects, directing their magical energies to bury them at precise locations underground.

When the array was complete, the surface showed no trace of disturbance, but Mu could sense the faint ripple of energy emanating from the spot.

Once all was in place, a Dao Sect disciple stepped into the array. Light surged, and the disciple vanished without a trace. Moments later, energy rippled once more and the disciple reappeared.

This was... truly miraculous! Mu was utterly dumbfounded.

Night fell, and as the people departed, the evening—Mu’s least favorite—descended. The previous night, he had replayed his simple life three times over, finding nothing but tedium. Yet the past two days had been more eventful than his entire existence.

If only he could return to the construction site and haul bricks—even that would be a blessing, sparing his not-so-quick mind from laboring over these mysteries. Lost in thought, he even recalled two ancient poems from his elementary school days before dawn finally broke.

Morning arrived, though the sun was hidden. A gentle rain began to fall in the valley, the droplets stirring a pink mist that transformed the scene into something out of a fairy tale.

The fine rain nourished the ancient tree, and Mu felt an indescribable comfort, as if sweet dew was cleansing his body and soul, washing away all the night’s restlessness.

As Mu basked in contentment, he saw the Sect Master leading the two children into the valley. Placing them beneath the tree and giving a few brief instructions, the old man departed, clearly trusting in the tree’s protection.

With no restraints, the two children became wild colts, their laughter echoing joyfully through the valley.

Mu watched the lively, innocent children with deep envy, recalling his own childhood. He, too, had once known such happiness—when his father was still alive, his mother healthy and joyful. The family would often visit his grandparents in the countryside, picking wild fruits and drinking sweet spring water. Those were...

Wait—what was that smell? Sweeter than the clearest spring!

Hey, you little rascal, don’t relieve yourself here! Stop it! Or, no—why am I saying stop? Or don’t stop?

Ugh!

But... the scent really isn’t bad. Ugh, ugh, ugh...