I'm Not An Immortal (The Adventure of Jian Chou) - Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Turning around, she walked through the bustling crowd, not wanting to spare another glance.
Behind her, Fudao Shanren was utterly dumbfounded: “Jianchou! Jianchou, girl!”
Ai, this girl, why was she running off like that?
He had even wanted her to take a look at his name!
Really, as her master, he rarely had such glorious moments—his name was on quite a few of the Heavenly Steles!
This disciple of his just wouldn’t cooperate at all!
Fuming, Fudao Shanren took a few quick strides, cradling the utterly despondent white goose in his arms, and caught up to her: “Tell me, just how much do you dislike your master? Walking so fast—did I offend you or something?”
As she walked outward, Jianchou’s gaze swept across the open square, the boundless sea, and even a few oddly shaped sailboats drifting on the water.
Instantly, she felt her chest expand with a sense of vastness.
Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face Fudao Shanren’s indignant glare.
She smiled faintly: “Master, you misunderstand. A peerless genius like you—your illustrious reputation has long been known to me. Why would I need to confirm it from some measly Nine Heavenly Stele? So, I won’t look.”
This was the first time he’d heard someone flatter him so grandiosely.
Fudao Shanren looked at Jianchou, his expression one of solemn realization that his disciple had thoroughly fallen into depravity.
With a heavy sigh, he freed one hand from the goose and patted her shoulder gravely, speaking with profound wisdom: “Disciple, ah, your master especially likes honest people like you who speak the unvarnished truth!”
“…”
The thickness of Fudao Shanren’s skin might have exceeded her expectations—just a tad.
Jianchou nodded obediently, adopting a properly chastened expression: “Then, may we go now?”
“Let’s go!”
This time, Fudao Shanren was pleased.
His steps were light and brisk as he strode forward.
The white goose in his arms stretched its neck upward, tilting its head back.
Watching it, Jianchou couldn’t help but feel the goose was rolling its eyes.
Unable to resist, she asked: “Master, back at Qingfeng Temple when you returned, I didn’t see this goose. Where were you hiding it?”
“Qingfeng Temple’s secret realm was so dangerous—even I barely escaped with my life. Of course, I tied it up outside! What if it got hurt or bruised?”
As he spoke, he scratched the smooth feathers on the goose’s forehead and grinned ingratiatingly.
“Right, good goose?”
“…”
That question surfaced again: Just who is your real disciple?
Jianchou thought—well, it definitely wasn’t her.
The square by the shore was vast.
Jianchou and Fudao Shanren walked for a while before reaching its edge.
Lifting her gaze, she saw the boundless sea ahead, while behind her stretched a wide plain.
Along the coast, a low mountain range hosted numerous houses and pavilions—it seemed to be a seaside town.
This was the Nineteen Continents.
The people coming and going wore robes of varying styles, colors, and materials, some quite peculiar.
As she walked and observed, Jianchou felt her horizons broadening.
Fudao Shanren descended the steps beside the square and said with a smile: “This is the southwest coast of the Nineteen Continents, where the end of the Thirteen Immortal Isles lies. That’s why it’s so lively here. But this place isn’t peaceful—walk carefully, or you might lose your life.”
“Really?”
It just looked like an ordinary place to her.
Jianchou didn’t understand where the danger came from.
Fudao Shanren pointed mysteriously to the left—the north.
“Keep going north, and you’ll reach the Nine-Headed River, which cuts diagonally across the Nineteen Continents. By the river stands a tall tower called Wangjiang Tower, home to the most unique sect in the Central Region—the Wangjiang Sect.”
Then he pointed to the right—the south.
“Further south, by the sea, there’s a cluster of tall buildings facing the ocean. Another faction resides there, comparable in strength to Wangjiang Tower—the Wanghai Sect.”
Wangjiang Tower.
Wanghai Sect.
Jianchou instinctively sensed something odd: “These two sects’ names are way too similar, aren’t they?”
“Exactly, which is why I said…”
Fudao Shanren stroked his sparse beard, his gaze profound—like a sage (or perhaps an idiot).
“These two fight often. Originally, the Nineteen Continents only had Wangjiang Tower. Long ago, it separated from the Central Region and wasn’t counted among the Left Three Thousand. It was terrifyingly powerful. But then, internal strife split it into two—hence, Wanghai Sect was born.”
Got it.
Jianchou looked down at the ground beneath her feet.
They were currently standing right at the border between Wangjiang Tower and Wanghai Sect—undoubtedly the most volatile spot for conflicts.
After a moment’s thought, she asked: “Then how do we get to Yashan?”
A passerby walking near Jianchou suddenly glanced at her sideways.
His companion behind him asked: “What’s wrong?”
The man shrugged and hurried forward with his friend.
“Ah, the countryside bumpkins in the Nineteen Continents are multiplying. That person just asked how to get to Yashan—Yashan, of all places!”
“Hahaha, really? Dreamers are always plentiful…”
“Tsk.”
“…”
Jianchou heard it all and felt utterly speechless.
She turned to Fudao Shanren.
Fudao Shanren raised an eyebrow smugly, taking in her expression.
He couldn’t help but snort: “Don’t you feel a secret thrill right now? Look at your face—what kind of expression is that?”
Jianchou was puzzled: “Yashan… I can’t help but feel something’s off. Their attitude toward it…”
“Yearning for it, yet unable to reach it. Isn’t that how it always is?”
This time, Fudao Shanren didn’t mock.
Instead, he pulled out a chicken leg and gazed leisurely at the road ahead.
Yashan…
Three hundred years since he’d last seen it.
“As for why—you’ll understand when you see it.”
You’ll understand why everyone spoke of Yashan in that tone, why they wore those expressions.
From the moment he began cultivating, Fudao Shanren had taken pride in Yashan.
Likewise, from the moment she set foot on the Nineteen Continents, Jianchou would also take pride in Yashan.
Disciples of Yashan.
Those words—how much did they encapsulate?
Lost in thought, Fudao Shanren suddenly felt a surge of heroic spirit.
He tossed the chicken bone, flicked his sleeve, and raised a hand!
“Sword, come!”
Whoosh—a fierce gale erupted, his tattered robes fluttering wildly!
Accompanied by a clear, resonant sword hum, Wujian—
Materialized out of thin air.
A deep blue halo burst forth!
At that moment, everyone on the bustling avenue turned to look.
Yet Fudao Shanren acted as if they were invisible.
“Come, disciple! Your master will show you the Nineteen Continents! Mount the sword!”
Standing at the sword’s tip, Fudao Shanren lifted his head, gazing into the distance as if oblivious to the shocked or bewildered stares.
His eyes held only the drifting clouds, the vast expanse of the Nineteen Continents, and—
The distant Yashan!
His gaunt frame brimmed with astonishing power.
His posture was gnarled and imposing, like an ancient tree.
Watching this scene, Jianchou felt her heart stir with longing—but even more, a surge of heroic spirit swelled in her chest!
She smiled: “As you command, Master!”
By now, mounting the sword was second nature.
The moment she steadied herself, Fudao Shanren laughed heartily and formed a hand seal!
Wujian shot forward!
A streak of deep blue light soared into the sky, vanishing into the distance!
On the ground, many cultivators looked up in astonishment.
Inside a tall building by the roadside, an elderly man playing chess with a young man paused mid-move and suddenly raised his head, staring at the sky.
That streak of deep blue light had flashed past!
This was…
In that instant, the old man’s eyes widened. He stood abruptly: “This…”
“Master, what’s wrong?”
The young man was startled, thinking something major had happened.
The old man’s gaze remained fixed on the fading light, his voice trembling with awe and difficulty:
“It’s the Central Region’s Law Enforcer… Yashan! A cultivator of Yashan has returned…”
The Law Enforcer?!
That Yashan elder who’d neglected his duties for three hundred years?!
The young man was stunned, following his master’s gaze—but the blue light had already merged into the boundless clouds, blending with the azure sky, leaving no trace.
Aboard the sword, as they flew higher toward the northeast, Jianchou’s view expanded.
She could see the stark divide between sea and land, a great river flowing from the northeast to the southwest, emptying into the ocean.
By the river stood an imposing tower, piercing the heavens.
The sprawling plains were a sea of green, ancient trees towering like layers of emerald clouds covering the Nineteen Continents.
Above, the mist grew thinner the higher they ascended.
Lifting her head, Jianchou saw the blazing sun overhead, seemingly within reach.
Looking down, she occasionally spotted flashes of light from magical treasures—other cultivators traversing the clouds.
“Master, is Yashan still further northeast?”
Jianchou asked as she took in the sights.
“Still ahead. Once we pass Wangjiang Tower’s territory, we’ll reach the Central Region’s Left Three Thousand. Yashan’s gates aren’t far beyond.”
Fudao Shanren’s voice remained clear and strong despite the wind.
Jianchou thought for a moment, then gasped: “We started in Wangjiang Tower’s domain, and after flying this long, we’re still not past it?”
“Far from it.”
Fudao Shanren chuckled, utterly carefree.
“Wangjiang Tower sits at the junction of river and sea, connecting land and ocean. Spiritual treasures, medicinal herbs, and artifacts from both converge here, making Wangjiang Tower the nouveau riche of the Nineteen Continents. Their influence has expanded massively. Just their territory alone rivals the entire Central Region’s Left Three Thousand.”
“…That huge…”
Jianchou could hardly fathom it.
Fudao Shanren shook his head and sighed: “But it’s useless. In the cultivation world, territory doesn’t determine prestige.”
True.
From what she’d heard, everyone revered Yashan—some in awe, others in envy.
Yet no one ever mentioned Wangjiang Tower.
Clearly, they weren’t in the same league.
Jianchou wasn’t interested in Wangjiang Tower.
Instead, she asked: “What about Jianzhu Sect and Wuwang Pavillion?”
“Thinking of Nie Xiaowan, eh?”
Fudao Shanren understood her thoughts.
“Our Yashan maintains ties with all major sects of the Left Three Thousand. After such a major incident, Zhang Sui will surely send word through his elders. Wuwang Pavillion will likely do the same. You’ll find out then—no need to worry.”
Jianchou nodded slowly.
Since parting at Ascension Island, her biggest concern had been Nie Xiaowan.
She wondered how they were doing now.
Fudao Shanren, however, was unperturbed: “The path of cultivation is long. Centuries pass in the blink of an eye. Reunions happen in due time—you’ll meet again. If you cultivate diligently, the Left Three Thousand’s assembly in three years will surely bring you together. And who knows? Something else might bring you together even sooner. Besides, Wuwang Pavillion isn’t too far from Yashan…”
“How far is ‘not too far’?”
Jianchou couldn’t help but ask.
Fudao Shanren counted lightly on his fingers and said airily: “Hmm, for a Foundation Establishment cultivator, just a seven- or eight-day flight.”
“…”
Jianchou was speechless.
She was barely a Qi Refining beginner.
“By the way, what’s your cultivation level, Master? I’ve heard people say you’re incredibly powerful.”
“Me?”
Fudao Shanren raised an eyebrow, adopting a modest tone.
“Your master isn’t that incredible. Three hundred years ago, I was already at the Entering World stage.”
Jianchou immediately counted on her fingers.
Qi Refining, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Soul Separation, Entering World!
The sixth major stage!
By now, Jianchou roughly understood how difficult it was to advance each stage.
She couldn’t help but exclaim: “You were at the sixth stage three hundred years ago? Then you must be at the seventh, Returning to Void, or even the eighth, Worldly Boundary, now?”
“…”
For a moment, Fudao Shanren seriously considered stopping right there, drawing Wujian, and hacking this brat to pieces!
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
Fudao Shanren ultimately…
Failed to calm down!
Standing at the sword’s tip, he flailed wildly: “Do you think cultivation is like eating and drinking, where you just grow taller?! Didn’t I say that after Soul Separation, it’s all about refining the heart?! Three thousand years might not be enough to reach Great Perfection! And you ask if I’m at Returning to Void or Worldly Boundary?! Tell me, what grudge do you hold against me?! Speak!”
“I…”
I can’t speak!
Jianchou had no idea about any of this! Besides, when had he ever mentioned that post-Soul Separation cultivation was about refining the heart?!
Seeing Fudao Shanren’s fury, she didn’t dare argue.
Wisely, she apologized: “This disciple is ignorant. Please don’t be angry, Master.”
“Hmph!”
Only then did Fudao Shanren feel slightly appeased.
“This master is magnanimous. I won’t lower myself to your level.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Jianchou obediently shrank back.
“Then, what is your current cultivation level?”
“…Oh, my level?”
Fudao Shanren stroked the white goose’s feathers, his tone breezy.
“Soul Separation.”
“That’s still impress…”
Impressive—
My foot!
Jianchou nearly choked.
Her reaction was delayed: “Soul Separation?!”
Wait, three hundred years ago, he was at the sixth stage, Entering World.
How was he now at the fifth stage, Soul Separation?!
Jianchou couldn’t make sense of it.
Had his cultivation regressed? How had Fudao Shanren managed that?!
Fudao Shanren guiltily rubbed his nose and muttered: “I told you, after Soul Separation, it’s about refining the heart. And refining the heart isn’t easy! What does it matter if I’m at Soul Separation or Entering World? Hmph, bring me an Entering World cultivator, and I’ll still beat them to a pulp! Enough! What does this master’s cultivation level have to do with you, brat? No more questions!”
Finally, Jianchou realized just how unreliable her master was.
She said quietly behind him: “This disciple suddenly understands why all those people you saved turned on you…”
They’d been ‘driven’ to it!
Fudao Shanren ignored her, pretending not to hear: “The wind’s so strong, the scenery’s so fine~ With a chicken in my left hand and a duck in my right~ Eat my fill today, but what about tomorrow~”
He even started humming.
Jianchou thought silently: Don’t you also have a goose in your arms?
The white goose in Fudao Shanren’s arms seemed to sense danger and flapped its wings twice.
Fudao Shanren, thinking it was just excited, laughed heartily: “Good goose, smart goose! Yashan is right below us!”
Jianchou froze.
Fudao Shanren pointed downward and said: “Steady yourself, disciple! We’re descending!”
Huh?
Before Jianchou could react, Wujian abruptly dipped—then plunged downward in a steep dive!
At that moment, Jianchou felt like a falling meteor!
The deep blue streak traced a graceful arc across the wilderness, landing before a stretch of towering mountains!
Jianchou found herself on a large stone platform by a river, carved from a single boulder.
Beyond the shallow bank was a rushing river, spanned by a long suspension bridge with weathered wooden planks, as if aged by years of wind and sun.
On the opposite shore stood a towering, verdant mountain.
Squinting upward, Jianchou couldn’t see its peak—clouds shrouded its midsection, obscuring the view.
Fudao Shanren stood beside her, silent for a long, long time.
Nothing before them seemed to have changed.
He stepped forward slowly, resting a wrinkled hand on the moss-covered wooden post of the bridge, and sighed deeply: “Cross this bridge, and you’ll reach Yashan. This path is called the Yashan Path.”
YashanPath.
Jianchou followed the bridge with her gaze.
On the other side lay Yashan.
The mountain was too high, too steep.
The side facing the river was like a sheer cliff, with faint structures barely visible at this distance.
Fudao Shanren offered no further explanation.
He simply took the lead and stepped onto the bridge.
The suspension bridge was long, extending from the low hills on the far shore—it didn’t end at the river.
Jianchou realized this bridge sloped upward.
As they walked, the roaring river churned below, its mist dampening her face.
The bridge swayed slightly with their steps, making Jianchou fear she might plummet at any moment.
Close call.
Ahead, the bridge angled upward, disappearing into the clouds at the mountain’s midsection—like a celestial ladder ascending to the heavens.
The Yashan Path stretched on.
The entire way, Fudao Shanren didn’t speak another word.
Until they reached the opposite shore.
Jianchou’s steps halted involuntarily.
She stared at the riverbank: “Master, this…”
What is this?
The mighty river rushed onward.
The eastern bank was overgrown with wild grass, a lush green expanse.
Yet amidst the grass stood mound after mound—graves—filling her vision!
Hundreds, thousands of tombs!
Hundreds, thousands of headstones!
They lay beneath the suspension bridge, as if all who crossed walked atop these countless graves.
For a moment, the sky seemed darker.
Illusions unfurled before Jianchou’s eyes—
A thousand lonely graves, stretching endlessly.
A bitter wind howled through them, rustling the grass.
Fudao Shanren’s voice snapped her back to reality:
“These graves are called the Thousand Cultivators’ Tombs of Yashan. They hold the remains of Yashan disciples who fell in the battle against the Polar Extremes sixty years ago.”
The illusions vanished.
Before Jianchou, the graves and grass remained.
Fudao Shanren walked on, hands behind his back.
“This great river is a tributary of the Nine-Headed River. Legend says that in ancient times, there was a bird—round as a winnowing basket, with ten necks, nine of which bore heads, while one was headless. It dwelled at the river’s end, ascending upstream at midnight, carrying ghosts home…”
“These graves lie by the Nine-Headed River. Perhaps the nine-headed bird truly exists, ferrying their souls to reincarnate in the Polar Extremes.”
His voice was heavy, as if weighed down by boulders.
Earlier, Jianchou had wondered why the river had such a peculiar name.
Now she knew.
But…
Gazing at the countless graves beneath her, she felt an inexplicable melancholy.
She’d heard that when cultivators died, their souls scattered—no ghosts remained.
Burying them by the Nine-Headed River was likely just Yashan’s wistful fantasy.
The suspension bridge soon ascended further, leaving the graves behind.
Step by step, it was like climbing to the heavens.
Fudao Shanren looked up toward the bridge’s end and pointed for Jianchou to see.
On Yashan’s sheer face, at the bridge’s terminus, a narrow path had been carved horizontally into the cliff—like a ribbon cinching the mountain’s waist.
A bird’s path, perilously suspended, as if chiseled by gods—soaring high, twisting like a dragon circling the sun!
Above this path loomed the shadow of a grand hall.
A piercing cry echoed through the mountains.
Jianchou turned to see an eagle take flight from the jagged cliffs, its massive shadow shrinking to a speck in moments.
Standing on the bridge, she felt as if she were treading on clouds, dizzyingly unsteady.
Fudao Shanren pointed at the cliffside path, his chest swelling with pride.
“That, too, is the Yashan Path!”
“The bridge beneath your feet was built upon the bones of Yashan’s ancestors, allowing disciples to pass unhindered. But cultivation is arduous and treacherous—like that path ahead. One misstep, and you’ll plunge into the abyss.”
“Yashan is the Nineteen Continents’ brightest, broadest road for cultivators—and its most perilous, unforgiving trial!”
“Have you made your choice?”
A broad road. A trial.
Jianchou’s spirit was already captivated by the Yashan Path.
Hearing Fudao Shanren’s words, she gazed at the mountain—so close to the heavens!
She took three slow steps forward, then stopped, her eyes distant.
A broad road?
A trial?
No. Neither.
“I’ve made my choice.”
This was simply—
Her path!
