Chapter 20

Jianchou’s reaction was completely beyond Fudao Shanren’s expectations.

She stared at him with an almost dumbfounded expression.

Fudao Shanren, meanwhile, was slamming a stone against the ground with exaggerated misery, putting on a pitiful act.

“Disciple! You’ve wounded your master too deeply, far too deeply! Your master doesn’t even have a Dao Companion, how could you go around flirting outside already?!”

“…Master…”

Jianchou’s voice was utterly drained of energy.

But thanks to Fudao Shanren’s dramatic outburst, she didn’t even need an explanation—she already understood what a Dao Companion meant.

“So… cultivators can also get married?”

“It’s not called ‘getting married,’” Fudao Shanren sniffled, his fake tears drying up the moment he realized Jianchou had misunderstood.

He snorted.

“If male and female cultivators take a liking to each other, they can become companions and cultivate together. There are dual cultivation methods that harmonize yin and yang, making progress faster than cultivating alone. All that talk about severing emotions and desires? Most cultivators can’t actually do it.”

“…I see.”

Jianchou nodded, though her expression seemed unusually subdued.

Fudao Shanren noticed immediately, but he assumed she was just troubled by the concept of Dao Companions and didn’t think deeper.

“So, who even brought this up to you? If I recall correctly, you’re only at the Qi Refining Stage, right?”

“It was Junior Brother Zhang from the Fengmo Sword Sect.”

Jianchou didn’t hide it—she found the whole thing strange herself.

“But it might not be what you’re thinking, Master. He only asked if I had a Dao Companion.”

Fudao Shanren rolled his eyes so hard they might’ve fallen out of his head.

“A weasel paying respects to a chicken—do you think I’m blind?! That brat, a decrepit old cow daring to nibble on tender grass! He’s been cultivating for nearly fifty years, and you—you’re still so fresh!”

“……”

Jianchou’s soul was crumbling.

Her lips twitched.

Must you use the word ‘fresh’?!

“Don’t look so disgruntled. Dao Companions are no different from mortal marriages—they require matching status. Some no-name brat from the Fengmo Sword Sect, with mediocre talent, dares to covet you? Dream on!”

Fudao Shanren gritted his teeth so hard they might’ve shattered.

He clenched the small stone in his hand as if it were Zhang Sui’s bones.

“I finally managed to take in a female disciple—do you know how rare that is in Yashan? There isn’t a single other girl in the entire sect! And he thinks he can poach you? Damn it! Next time, I’ll lead the boys over and beat him up!”

What in the world…?

Jianchou felt the conversation spiraling into absurdity.

What did he mean by ‘poaching’? And ‘not a single other girl’?

Did Yashan really have no female disciples?

And…

“Master, does the sect know you’ve taken me as your disciple?”

“Obviously.”

Fudao Shanren smirked. “After the Qingfeng Temple’s Secret Realm incident, those idiots in Yashan were worried sick. Once I got out, I had to report in, so I mentioned you. And when they heard I’d taken in a girl? Pfft—you’ll see their reactions soon enough.”

Jianchou’s head was starting to ache.

She didn’t even need to ask why.

She rubbed her temples.

“Don’t tell me Yashan has no female disciples…”

“Bingo! Not a single one!”

Fudao Shanren clutched his chest dramatically.

“You have no idea—all the talented female cultivators go to Baiyue Valley, saying Yashan isn’t suitable for women…”

His voice darkened momentarily before flaring up in indignation.

“What a load of crap! Yashan is the only sect in the Central Region that relies on face to eat and cultivate! And we have the most dedicated, outstanding male disciples! Now that I’ve taken you in, I’ll make them open their dog eyes wide—Yashan can produce beautiful, powerful female cultivators too!”

He finished with an expectant look at Jianchou.

“Disciple, what do you think—Huh? Disciple, why do you look like that?”

“Nothing. Just suddenly feeling a bit dizzy.”

Jianchou clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to grind them.

Fudao Shanren nodded, pleased.

“Anyway, it’s up to you to restore Yashan’s reputation.”

Master, this disciple is not up to the task! Jian Chou felt pain everywhere.

“Speaking of which, it’s been three hundred years since I last returned to Yashan… Who knows how things are now? Though I’m sure they’ve missed my dashing presence. Disciple, tell me—is your master handsome?”

He struck a pose, arms spread wide.

Jianchou stared at him—and the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth—before deadpanning, “…Master, you’re bleeding.”

Not handsome at all!

“…Huh?”

Fudao Shanren looked down, wiped his lips, and indeed saw fresh blood on his fingers.

“Of all times to start bleeding! Ruining my image!”

Jianchou, genuinely concerned, asked, “Master, are you injured?”

Fudao Shanren’s eyes flickered, hesitating before he finally looked up.

“A minor injury. Are you doubting your master’s ability? How hurtful! I’m not talking to you anymore! I’m angry! I need to fix the teleportation array—don’t disturb me!”

Bleeding without even realizing it—how is that ‘minor’?

Jianchou didn’t believe him, but seeing his stubborn expression, she didn’t press further.

She stayed close, just in case.

Fudao Shanren sighed internally.

What a troublesome girl.

In a few quick motions, he repaired the damaged teleportation array, though his face seemed paler afterward.

He casually beckoned, and the white goose he’d released earlier waddled over, settling into his arms.

With a flick of his wrist, he embedded a handful of spirit stones into the array’s slots and jerked his chin.

“Let’s go. Step in.”

Jianchou hurried into the formation, and Fudao Shanren followed, crushing a teleportation talisman.

“Snap!”

A soft sound, and the array activated.

A brilliant white light shot up from Ascension Island, piercing the clouds.

When the glow faded, the thirteenth island of the Immortal’s Path was empty—only the remnants of a shattered stone stele lay quietly by the pond.

The Nineteen Continents & The Nine Heavenly Steles

Few knew the origin of the name Nineteen Continents.

This was a land where cultivators sought immortality, the “Ancient Fairyland” sung of in mortal poetry.

Here, there were mighty experts who could shatter heaven and earth with a gesture, and lowly ants who fought to the death over a single spirit stone…

Nearly everyone here dreamed of immortality—yet few would ever achieve it.

The Enlightenment Stele, however, was a legend tied to that dream.

Rising about 36 feet above the sea, it stood at the edge of the vast West Sea, neither too tall nor too short.

The ceaseless waves battered its ancient surface, leaving its base pitted and eroded.

At its peak, the weathered characters “Enlightenment” stood vertically, untouched by the tides.

No matter how high the waves surged, they never submerged the stele.

Legend said that long ago, the stele had no name—until a true immortal descended from the upper realms.

For three days and nights, he sat upon it, preaching the Dao.

When he left, those who had listened ascended to immortality in broad daylight!

From then on, the nameless stele was called the Enlightenment Stele.

As the now-familiar teleportation light faded, Jianchou’s vision cleared to reveal an endless ocean—and that ancient stele.

She saw its uneven, wind-worn peak, 36 feet above the waves.

Fudao Shanren stretched lazily beside her.

“Finally back. Still the same old place—nothing’s changed.”

His gaze lingered briefly on the stele before he looked away.

Jianchou, drawn back to reality by his words, finally took in her surroundings.

Underfoot was a massive teleportation array, but unlike the rough island ground, this one was smooth and polished, almost mirror-like.

When she lifted her eyes, what she saw stole her breath.

The array wasn’t on ordinary land—it was part of an immense plaza, and their spot was just one corner.

All around, more teleportation lights flashed as cultivators in various robes emerged.

This was a plaza covered in teleportation arrays!

The blazing sun hung high, white seabirds streaked across the sky, and their cries echoed clearly.

The plaza, hundreds of zhang wide, bustled with activity.

No other structures cluttered the space, leaving the view unobstructed—except for nine towering black-green stone pillars on the landward side, arranged from shortest to tallest.

Carved with ancient auspicious beasts, each pillar was thick enough that three people could barely encircle it.

Against the backdrop of blue skies and sea, they seemed to pierce the heavens.

Countless people stood below, gazing upward.

Jianchou’s eyes were inevitably drawn.

“What are those?”

Fudao Shanren smacked his lips dismissively.

“Just the Nine Heavenly Steles. Nothing special.”

Yet he started walking toward them.

Jianchou was speechless.

Didn’t you just say they’re ‘nothing special’? Why are you heading over?!

She truly couldn’t keep up with his whims.

After a dazed pause, she hurried after him.

People brushed past her, but no one spared her a glance.

In a place like this, a mere Qi Refining cultivator was invisible—let alone the disheveled old man ahead of her.

In the Nineteen Continents, eccentric cultivators were a dime a dozen. No one batted an eye.

(Though a few did twitch at the sight of Fudao Shanren’s white goose.)

“Why are they called ‘steles’? They’re just pillars, aren’t they?”

Jianchou genuinely didn’t get the naming logic—but she was more curious about their purpose.

Fudao Shanren pointed at the distant Enlightenment Stele.

“My guess? The bored fool who made these was trying to imitate that. There’s a famous legend about it—I’ll tell you later.”

Since he said “later,” Jianchou nodded and didn’t press.

She couldn’t help glancing around.

Every passerby was a cultivator—any one of them was likely stronger than her.

The realization was surreal.

A strange tension gripped her as she tightened her grip on the Nine-Jointed Bamboo Fudao Shanren had given her—or rather, the “broken bamboo stick.”

Fudao Shanren continued as they walked.

“The Nine Heavenly Steles—see how the leftmost is shortest, rising step by step? They represent the nine major cultivation realms: Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core… all the way to Ascension. Each stele bears the names of the strongest in that realm.”

“The strongest of each realm?”

Understanding dawned.

Her gaze toward the steles turned peculiar.

“Heh.”

Fudao Shanren didn’t need to look to know her expression.

“Young people—always yearning, huh? Dreaming of seeing your name up there one day? Well, pay close attention when we get closer. Your master’s name is on there too!”

The strongest of their generation in each realm.

If a cultivator remained undefeated in their realm, their name stayed on the stele.

Fudao Shanren, though now far beyond these early stages, had once been an unrivaled genius.

His name still graced several steles.

Jianchou knew he must’ve been extraordinary in his youth—but standing before these symbols of glory, she felt an indescribable awe.

She didn’t know where it came from.

By now, they’d reached the steles.

Looking up, she saw names carved into the dark stone, the older inscriptions at the bottom fading into fresher ones above.

A crowd had gathered around the second stele (Foundation Establishment).

Each name represented a legend—untouchable, unreachable.

As Jianchou studied them, snippets of conversation reached her ears.

“Kunlun is truly remarkable these days.”

“They say the Left Three Thousand of the Central Region breeds prodigies, but for Kunlun to take the lead like this… Ten days to Foundation Establishment! Unthinkable!”

“It’s only been a few days since the news broke. How is his name already here? I can’t believe it…”

“Zhou Chengjiang, the Sword Beyond Heaven—a Foundation Establishment peak expert—lost to someone who’s only cultivated for thirteen days?!”

……

Both Fudao Shanren and Jianchou froze.

Fu Dao Shanren, because his own Foundation Establishment had taken a hundred days—yet these people spoke of ten days.

That had to be Hengxu’s new disciple!

But this was the Nine Heavenly Steles!

Only three days had passed since that disciple’s breakthrough.

How could his name already be here?!

Fudao Shanren refused to believe it.

Without hesitation, he shoved through the crowd, goose in arms, shouting, “Jianchou! Come take a look!”

Jianchou, still rooted in place, felt as if her blood had turned to ice—sharp, piercing shards thrashing in her veins, making every step agony.

Yet she stepped forward.

The closer she got to the second stele, the fiercer the storm inside her grew.

Each footfall was like treading on blades.

Voices swirled around her.

She saw Fudao Shanren’s outrage.

The world blurred past her eyes.

Her mind was eerily blank.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, starting from the stele’s base, climbing name by name.

Some of these cultivators had fallen.

Some had become myths.

Some still shone brightly today.

Her eyes skimmed past them all.

Her head tilted higher.

Her vision rose.

Until—she saw it.

The name at the very top.

In that instant, the ice in her blood shattered.

Then it stilled.

Dissolved.

The entire way here, she’d wondered—Could the ten-day Foundation Establishment prodigy be Xie Buchen?

The question had weighed on her like a boulder.

Now, she had her answer.

Warmth seeped back into her limbs.

Xie Buchen.

The heaviest stone in her heart had dropped—only to plant the deepest roots of hatred.

She let them grow.

Each stroke of his name on the stele was a fresh scar on her heart.

Here she stood, humbled, staring up at the man who had once been her husband—his name towering above her, untouchable.

So unfamiliar she barely recognized it.

Someone sighed, “The highest on the second stele—the strongest Foundation Establishment cultivator. He’s now the undisputed number one below Golden Core!”

Number one below Golden Core—Xie Buchen.

Jianchou’s lips curled into a faint smile.

“Master, let’s go.”

Her voice was calm as she traced the steles with her eyes—nine pillars, like a ladder to heaven, the last one vanishing into the clouds.

One, two, three…

First realm, second realm, third realm…

Nine Heavenly Steles in total—and Xie Buchen had only reached the second.

Today, she saw his name like this.

One day, when he sees mine—what then?

She withdrew her gaze, thinking only:

The path of cultivation is long. Very, very long.