Chapter 37: Governing the Heavens and the Earth
“What are you all jumping for? Can’t bear to part with me?” Meng Xueli spoke to the koi fish in the pond.
Turning to the young disciple, he instructed, “In the next two days, make sure to purchase and prepare everything you need. Once I leave for the secret realm, try to stay indoors as much as possible.”
The young attendant lived at the foot of Changchun Peak, not far from the entrance’s suspension bridge, in a small courtyard of his own. He didn’t ask why but simply nodded solemnly and agreed, “Elder Meng, I will wait for you to return along with the two senior brothers.”
The koi suddenly slapped the water’s surface, sending a spray of droplets into the air. Xiao Huai let out a small cry and took a step back.
Meng Xueli, already well-versed in disciplining rat and fish alike, chided, “Jumping again?! Do you want to ascend to the heavens?”
Once, he had his eldest disciple feed the fish in his place, and ever since then, the three koi in the pond had been acting strangely. Whenever someone approached the water’s edge, they would desperately flick their tails, sending splashes everywhere, as if panicked and trying to flee.
Meng Xueli never figured out the reason behind it. In any case, it was a trivial matter, and tossing the feed from a distance was just as fun.
Come to think of it, although he was the one feeding these koi, he knew neither their breed nor their origins. Ji Xiao had brought them back from outside, so their true owner was likely Ji Xiao.
…
Spring arrived in Han Shan, starting from the mountain’s base.
At the Hall of Legal Principles, greenery flourished, and tiny wildflowers bloomed across the land. From this vantage point, behind the red blossoms and green leaves, one could see a vast blue sky stretching over a range of snow-capped peaks, mist curling between them.
Lower down the slopes, melting ice covered the river’s surface, drifting along with the current.
After a long winter of hibernation, the birds and beasts of the forest emerged from their nests, leaving neat rows of footprints on the softened snow.
The mountain paths were slick with moisture. The sweeping attendants, who had been busy clearing snow all winter, were nowhere to be seen, and the towering snow piles along the roadside had all but vanished.
Amidst the lively chorus of insects and birds in the forest, Meng Xueli and his two disciples walked along the mountain path, heading toward the main peak’s great hall to attend a meeting convened by the sect leader.
At their age, the two young disciples were still growing, like willow trees sprouting rapidly in spring, changing by the day.
Meng Xueli, however, seemed to have stopped growing. He was slightly shorter than his disciples, wrapped in a shimmering silver cloak, holding an exquisitely crafted hand warmer.
From a distance, the three of them looked like a young noble from a prestigious family taking two guards for a casual stroll.
Meng Xueli turned back and reminded them, “Once we enter the hall, if anyone asks you a question, I will answer. You two just bow and smile.”
Ji Xiao smiled lightly. “Alright.”
Yu Qishu: “Got it, Brother Meng.”
Meng Xueli shot him a look. “You can’t call me Brother Meng or Xueli later—call me Master!”
Initially, he hadn’t intended to bring his disciples along, especially Xiao Tingyun.
Unlike himself, whose reputation in the cultivation world was less than stellar, Xiao Tingyun had been under special attention ever since entering Han Shan.
It was even more so after Hu Si’s so-called “sage’s propercy,” which proclaimed him as Ji Xiao’s future successor. Everyone knew of this “heir to the great Daoist master.”
A grand reputation was a double-edged sword. If one lived up to expectations, they would be praised as worthy of their fame. But if they fell even slightly short, they would be seen as mere pretenders, unworthy of their renown.
Ji Xiao didn’t mind this. To him, people’s opinions were irrelevant.
But as his master, Meng Xueli worried. He didn’t want his disciple exposed too early or too frequently to the scrutiny of those whose intentions were unclear.
However, his two disciples were insistent on going with him.
Ji Xiao had reasoned, “This is the first time you’re attending a sect assembly since taking disciples. At a formal gathering of this scale, no other elder goes alone—everyone has their personal disciples attending them. Do you plan to stand there by yourself?”
Yu Qishu: “Exactly! Changchun Peak has to keep up appearances.”
Meng Xueli thought to himself, other elders got to choose among multiple disciples to bring along. Meanwhile, he only had these two. Even with them, his “appearance” was still lacking.
Outside the great hall, over a hundred disciples stood in orderly ranks, dressed in Han Shan’s Daoist robes, their backs straight and spirits high, waiting eagerly for the meeting to begin.
They would soon represent Han Shan in the grand competition within the Hanhai Secret Realm.
As Meng Xueli walked past the crowd, the head attendant led him inside to take his seat. The sect leader and the other peak masters had already arrived and greeted him with kindly smiles.
“Xueli, you’re here. Come, sit here.”
“How have you been lately?”
“Not bad! Did you break through?”
Although they were technically of the same seniority, they still saw Meng Xueli as someone much younger.
Meng Xueli answered each question seriously. Listening to this, Ji Xiao felt helpless—he, too, now seemed like a generation younger.
Before long, the elders took their seats, each accompanied by two or three, sometimes even seven or eight, personal disciples standing behind them. Their chosen competitors, one or two per peak, stood outside the hall, waiting.
As more people arrived, idle chatter dwindled, and the atmosphere grew solemn.
Meng Xueli quietly observed the room, noticing that this was quite different from the year-end disciple selection. The elders sitting beside the five peak masters, especially those surnamed Zhou or with ties to the Zhou family, barely spoke to one another, as if an invisible boundary separated them.
Meanwhile, others were scrutinizing the three from Changchun Peak with uncertain expressions, exchanging whispers through sound transmissions:
“Meng Xueli broke through? He reached the Condensed Spirit Realm?”
“If he had gone into seclusion to advance, he would have needed a guardian and had to leave Changchun Peak. But no one heard any news of it.”
“I heard he met with Qian Yuzhi. Could he have gone to ask for a spiritual elixir?”
Two months ago, Meng Xueli had reached the peak of the Qi Refining stage, yet there had been no indication that he planned to go into seclusion. In fact, not long ago, people had seen him strolling through Hanmen City with his disciples, enjoying street food. There had been no sign of closed-door cultivation. Yet now, he had suddenly reached the Condensed Spirit Realm.
Being able to battle beyond his level and break through so easily—was Meng Xueli actually a genius?
This was completely contrary to how people had always perceived him. Some preferred to believe that, in preparation for the Hanhai Secret Realm competition, Meng Xueli had consumed a rare, forcefully-enhancing elixir that would leave lasting consequences.
—Back then, before everyone’s eyes, he had sworn an oath to Ji Xiao’s memorial tablet. It turned out it wasn’t just a momentary impulse; he truly intended to give his all to win the “Endless Sky Sword.” That was truly sigh-worthy.
With Meng Xueli drawing all the attention, Xiao Tingyun’s rapid progress—already in the late Qi Refining stage—received only a few passing comments: “As expected, worthy of being born with an innate sword spirit. Just like Ji Xiao Zhenren back in the day.”
Once all the elders had arrived, the sect leader signaled the head attendant to issue the command. Only then did the disciples file into the hall, standing in orderly rows at its center.
The sect leader stood and scanned the faces before him. Every twenty years, a new group of exceptional young disciples stood here, suppressing their excitement, their expressions full of ambition and confidence, eager to set off.
However, some of them would never return.
The Hanhai Secret Realm opened once every twenty years. According to the competition rules, only cultivators under the age of thirty could participate.
Since this was everyone’s first time entering the secret realm, they had to rely on the experiences passed down by their predecessors and maps drawn from memory.
It was an adventure for the young. Each participant bore great expectations, either to gain fame across the world or to perish in the sands—this was their moment to take a gamble.
The sect leader spoke slowly:
“You are the finest disciples of Han Shan’s younger generation. I trust that you will bring honor to our sect!”
Over a hundred voices rang out in unison, echoing through the grand hall: “We will not disappoint our sect—”
Hearing this, Meng Xueli also wanted to shout along, but as an elder, he could only transmit his voice privately to his two disciples.
Yu Qishu sighed through sound transmission, “I really wish I could go to the secret realm! Born at the wrong time—no fate with it.”
Meng Xueli consoled him, mainly to comfort his senior disciple: “Once you’ve mastered your skills, go travel the world. The three realms are vast—what is a mere secret realm compared to that?”
The sect leader’s voice grew solemn: “The purpose of the secret realm is a trial, not a bloodbath. I hope you will follow the rules.” One of the rules was that participants were forbidden from harming those who forfeited.
The disciples responded, “We will heed your teachings—”
Wherever there was competition, there would be casualties. However, this system had greatly reduced unnecessary bloodshed, allowing the cultivation world to recuperate and preserve its strength for battles against the demon realms.
The secret realm permitted voluntary withdrawal. As long as one survived for seven days, they could leave through a teleportation array. This had been the original plan set for Meng Xueli by the sect leader and the peak masters.
Before the Hanhai Secret Realm competition existed, powerful cultivators would seize unclaimed resources through sheer force, displaying their magical prowess by splitting mountains and parting seas, their battles shaking the heavens. Such conflicts inevitably led to rivers of blood and harm to mortals.
The sect leader nodded and signaled the head attendant to distribute the jade tokens.
The disciples’ eyes gleamed.
The jade token was the key to entering the secret realm. The number of slots was limited—only two thousand tokens in total, one per person.
Back then, Ji Xiao Zhenren had led discussions with representatives of various sects to determine how these slots would be allocated.
The six great sects, with their vast influence, each received 150 slots. The countless mid-sized sects and noble families received even fewer. Some small, remote sects, with only a hundred or so members, were given just a single slot—and often, if they had no suitable disciple, they had to forgo participation. Instead, they would sell the jade token through trade houses, earning a hefty sum.
After offering final words of encouragement and emphasizing the rules, the sect leader announced:
“Five days from now, at the third quarter of the Mao hour, gather at the square outside the hall. You will board a flying artifact to Hanhai. Ziyan Peak Master and Elder Meng of Changchun Peak will be the accompanying elders.”
Thus, Meng Xueli was about to become the first elder in history to enter the secret realm alongside his disciples.
Meng Xueli felt a little disappointed and transmitted his voice to his two disciples, saying, “Sigh, I had wanted to go by myself, to enjoy the journey and take a stroll through the mortal world.”
Ji Xiao sent a message back to reassure him, “Traveling together with fellow disciples has always been the rule.”
Meng Xueli: “Who came up with such a boring rule? They govern the heavens and the earth—do they really have to control how others travel too? Absolutely insane.”
Ji Xiao’s expression turned complicated. “…It was probably your Dao companion. It’s to prevent anyone from being left alone and having their jade talismans stolen.”
Upon hearing this, Yu Qishu quickly tried to mediate, “Forget it, forget it, Brother Meng.”
Meng Xueli thought for a moment. That was true—any complaint about the rules would most likely end up being a complaint about his own Dao companion.
He should refrain from saying such things in the future.
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
