Chapter 22: Mystic Gate's Iceberg Corner

Chapter 22: Mystic Gate's Iceberg Corner

At the mention of the Cold Altar Rampage Soldiers, Wang Daoxuan’s face paled.

Li Yan, watching him closely, felt reassured. By bringing up this sensitive topic directly, he’d cast a stone to test the waters. While Wang’s initial impression had been favorable, his current destitute state raised doubts—if he’d never even heard of the Cold Altar Rampage Soldiers, sharing further details would be pointless.

“I’ll be honest—I’ve run into some trouble…”

Once convinced Wang was knowledgeable, Li Yan dropped all pretenses and recounted the incident with the Cold Altar Rampage Soldiers. Yet in the treacherous Jianghu, trust was scarce. He held back key details, revealing only three-tenths of the truth.

The case of Wang Guaifu, for instance, became a vague tale of a village spirit medium who’d vanished mysteriously. He omitted her true identity to protect her, especially since she and her companions were evading enemies. He wouldn’t risk repaying kindness with betrayal.

He also withheld the plaque-based curse technique tied to his family’s vendetta, cautious about the possibility of Mystic Gate involvement. The Substitute God Statue was another secret he’d take to the grave.

Only his Divine Olfaction ability was shared in full.

Wang Daoxuan listened intently, his expression shifting from confusion to deep thought. Finally, he fixed Li Yan with a stunned gaze.

“Your life force must be ironclad!” he blurted.

With a Substitute God Statue anchoring his fate, “ironclad” was an understatement. Li Yan bowed deeply. “I beg you, Master Daoist, to enlighten me.”

Wang hesitated, then shook his head. “Fine. Since you’ve awakened divine abilities, you’re fated to cross paths with the Mystic Gate. This knowledge isn’t secret—any diligent seeker would uncover it eventually.”

He leaned forward. “To understand rampaging soldiers, we must first speak of Mystic Gate troops. Whether orthodox sects, regional lineages, or heretical schools, all who practice rituals cultivate these forces.”

“Troops vary widely—Talismanscript Soldiers of the Mystic Gate’s orthodox schools, the Village Earth Shrine’s She Ling troops, the Five Directions’ Yin Troops trained by regional lineages, the Horsebound Spirit Masters’ Five Routes Immortal Soldiers, or the Five Tong Troops of folk cults…”

“These entities are invisible to ordinary eyes. Adepts wield them to scour mountains and temples, exorcise demons, duel rivals, or even take lives.”

“Rampage soldiers have many origins, but all share one trait—ferocity beyond control, though their power is formidable.”

“As for Cold Altars, these are abandoned sects whose lineages died out, leaving only crumbling shrines.”

“Maintaining these soldiers requires constant offerings. Interrupt the rituals, and they’ll spiral into frenzies, possessing beasts or humans to hunt for bloody sustenance.”

He paused thoughtfully. “In Guanzhong, the Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect systematically purges such threats. Cold Altars are rare here. Those rampaging soldiers likely came from the Qinling Mountains.”

“You survived an encounter with such a beast? Your birth chart must defy death itself!”

Li Yan frowned. “Are these troops so numerous within the Mystic Gate?”

Wang nodded. “The Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect commands Talismanscript Soldiers in numbers unknown—but they’re rumored to rival celestial hosts. Without such might, how could they reign as the supreme sect, upheld by imperial patronage for generations?”

“And ancient lineages exist beyond count. Some masters inherit legions numbering in the tens of thousands. Add countless minor folk sects, and the total becomes unfathomable…”

Li Yan shuddered. A single Rampage Soldier had nearly killed him. Thousands would spell apocalyptic horror.

He blurted, “With such terrifying power, why doesn’t the Mystic Gate simply rule the world?”

Wang snorted. “Easier said than done. Commanding troops demands commensurate cultivation. Controlling legions of millions requires armies of high-ranking priests performing grand rituals—sometimes for days.”

“Balance exists even in mysticism. Troops aren’t omnipotent. Hide in a City God’s Village Earth Shrine brimming with offerings, and minor troops can’t touch you.”

“The Mystic Gate’s arts are vast—troops are but one path. Sacred peaks and rivers brim with innate celestial energy. Dare anyone besiege Mount Tai, the sacred peak among Five Great Mountains? The sect’s very foundation would shatter, troops backfire, and gods awaken.”

Li Yan gasped. “Gods… truly exist?”

“They do—but not as folk tales claim. Even high priests of orthodox sects struggle to grasp their nature. How could a half-competent wretch like me presume understanding?”

A spark of curiosity lit Li Yan’s eyes. “And immortals?”

Wang sighed. “Longevity is illusion, immortality a distant dream. Legends abound, but none have seen these beings. I dare not speculate.”

Li Yan pressed, “But can cultivators soar through heavens, shatter stars, or live centuries?”

Wang rolled his eyes. “Even the orthodox sect’s grandmasters lack such feats. When your time comes, you’ll meet the Dao Ancestor soon enough.”

He reached for cold tea, parched from talking.

Li Yan hesitated, disappointment flickering. “Master Wang, since I’ve awakened divine abilities… might you recommend me to the Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect?”

Wang spat tea everywhere, choking. “You’ve survived one crisis, but don’t dream too big!”

“Cultivating Mystic Gate arts demands mental clarity. The older one grows, the more tangled the mind becomes. Orthodox sects and lineages train children from youth.”

“Folk lineages snatch awakened youths during rituals. The orthodox sects have rigorous systems—they lack no disciples.”

He chuckled bitterly. “Late bloomers like me abound. I refused to accept fate, squandering my fortune chasing entry into the Mystic Gate. From respected ‘Manager Wang,’ I became ‘Old Man Wang.’”

“After endless struggles, I entered the sect. Yet while I styled myself ‘Daoist of Profound Mystery,’ peers still saw only a laughingstock unfit for high halls.”

“If you seek peace, I’ll introduce you to a local City God Temple’s officiant. A ritual can seal your Yang Six Roots’ divine abilities. Live quietly as a mortal, unseen by fiends.”

“Or you could join Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect. They’d seal your powers too, making you a menial—sweeping courtyards, chanting scriptures. But at least you’d walk the Dao, free from mortal strife.”

Li Yan fell silent, then lifted his head. “I… won’t accept that fate.”

“Good!” Wang stroked his beard. “If all accepted fate, dynasties wouldn’t rise and fall. Human paths would stagnate.”

“I’ve methods to cultivate inner divinity. Not orthodox, but a thousand-year-old lineage. Master them, and you’ll command your abilities freely—even learn simple techniques.”

Grateful, Li Yan asked, “What’s the cost, Master Daoist?”

Wang’s eyes softened. “I once spent fortunes seeking truth, only to be swindled. Despairing, a dying wandering Daoist gifted me this art—asking only I keep its flame alive.”

“How could I charge you? Whether this path brings fortune or doom remains unknown. If you fail cultivation and attract fiends, I’d bear guilt for harming you.”

He rose, retrieving a manual from a shelf. “This is a secret text. I’ve copied it carefully—no errors. Ask anything, and I’ll answer truthfully.”

Li Yan hesitated. “What if I’m… a villain? What if I misuse this?”

Wang chuckled. “You’re a Jianghu cultivator. Even mundane martial artists kill—but would you slaughter recklessly?”

“The Mystic Gate has laws. Tai Xuan’s Enforcement Hall exists for a reason. Even Great Xuan’s imperial law binds us.”

Relieved, Li Yan accepted the manual. The cover read: Xixuan Profound Obscurity True Sutra. The dense text inside began: To cultivate inner divinity, avoid distractions. Retreat into solitude. Still the soul, guard the void. Visualize subtly, hold the center. Calm the spirit, steady the form—then no harm shall reach you, and ten thousand specters will flee…

Dizzy from reading, he pocketed it. “One last matter—do you know a certain Sha Lifei?”

“Sha Lifei?” Wang frowned, puzzled.

Li Yan smirked. He really was bluffing!

He described, “Bald, rugged face, thick beard. A braggart who spins tall tales…”

“Oh!” Wang’s eyes widened. “I remember! Years ago, I met this ‘Sand Dweller’ once. We shared fine wine.”

“It was spring. He invited me to Chang’an’s Drunken Flower Pavilion, summoned courtesans… then fled mid-drunkenness, leaving me to face the bill!”

“Luckily, the brothel was haunted. I exorcised the ghost to settle the debt…”

Wang narrowed his eyes. “Wait—is he finally repaying me?”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end