Chapter Three: Yuan Monk

Yang Nan walked forward with his head bowed in silence, his entire body trembling under the assault of lightning, every hair standing on end. He merely gritted his teeth and pressed on, steady and unwavering. Only when he was nearly through did he realize that he was not alone—someone else had also braved this Hidden Gold Path relying solely on physical endurance!

That person, noticing Yang Nan’s astonished gaze, offered him a gentle, friendly smile. The youth was dressed in a patchwork robe, tattered and worn, his scalp shining and bare, looking no more than ten or so years old. His features were delicate, and when he smiled, two pronounced canine teeth showed, making him quite endearing. Yang Nan, seeing the boy’s monk-like appearance, couldn’t help but laugh, “Friend, since you are a monk, why seek immortality at a Daoist mountain gate?”

The little monk was taken aback. “You jest, brother. How could I be a monk? My hair was just singed off by the lightning…” As he spoke, he patted his bald head, a look of regret on his face.

Yang Nan roared with laughter, finding this little fellow immensely likable. To withstand eighty-one bolts of lightning with nothing but one’s body—such temperament and willpower were extraordinary. He felt a growing fondness for the young monk. After passing through the Hidden Gold section, they found a thatched hut for rest. They sat together on stone stools, exchanged names, and began to talk.

The little monk was named Yuanna, a resident of the Immortal-Seeking Abode. Orphaned at a young age, he was raised by neighbors and, because of a peculiar yang constitution, was eventually chosen by disciples of Kunlun. Hence, he had come to attempt the Seven Paths of Calamity.

Yang Nan found Yuanna, though raised on the charity of many and beset by misfortune, held no bitterness. Instead, he was optimistic, open-hearted, clever, and broad-minded, which made Yang Nan like him all the more. They were about the same age and soon grew close in their conversation. Yang Nan briefly recounted his own background—raised in a duke’s household, unlike Yuanna who had wandered and struggled for basic needs. By comparison, Yuanna’s resilience surpassed his own.

“Little monk, since you know no magic, the next four trials will be harder for you. Can you make it?” Yang Nan found Yuanna’s bald appearance amusing and called him “little monk” without much thought.

Yuanna wasn’t offended. He grinned, “Immortals of Kunlun always appear to those with fate. If I can get through, all the better. If not, it’s just as well.”

Yang Nan admired his magnanimity. After three trials, those who overestimated themselves had already been eliminated. Only those with extraordinary aptitude and temperament remained. If you could make it through three, gritting your teeth would see you through four.

After a long rest, the agony of lightning finally faded. The Hidden Gold Path was not without merit; after being tempered by eighty-one bolts, Yang Nan felt his body lighter and his movements more agile. He realized that regular cultivation on the Seven Paths of Calamity would bring great benefit.

With Yuanna for company, the journey was no longer dull. The next section was the Gale Path—winds howled, sand and stones flew, and visibility was so poor it was hard to keep one’s eyes open. Yang Nan took Yuanna’s hand, and together they staggered forward, barely able to anchor themselves. A single lapse would see them swept back to the thatched hut, their effort wasted.

On this stretch, gusts would sometimes blast down from above, as if a giant were shoving them bodily. Yang Nan now had no choice but to use his powers. He summoned Shadowbite, drove the blade into the ground to anchor himself, and advanced slowly, holding tightly to Yuanna. Hand in hand, supporting one another, they finally emerged from the gale, both utterly exhausted. Yang Nan wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced back at the raging winds, relieved to have survived.

Yuanna, seeing Yang Nan wielding a magical weapon, exclaimed in awe, “You actually know Daoist arts and own a magic weapon—why bother suffering through the Seven Paths of Calamity to seek immortality?”

Those who possessed both magic and a weapon usually already belonged to a sect. Who would bother becoming a mere registered disciple of Kunlun—at first taught only martial skills, with magical arts reserved for the outer disciples? With a sect, one had access to spells and techniques, so why endure this hardship? Yuanna’s question left Yang Nan with no good answer.

He did, in fact, have a jade token given by Bu Xu. With it, he could have gone straight up the mountain, but on the river, Bu Xu had seemed to discourage reliance on the token’s power. Yang Nan also knew that the Seven Paths of Calamity, though grueling, were meant to temper the Daoist heart. Without hardship, how could one amount to anything?

Yang Nan replied vaguely, and Yuanna, being new to his acquaintance, refrained from pressing the matter. Next came the Mountain-Pressing Path, the Yin Calamity Path, and the Sun Maze Path. On the Mountain-Pressing Path, the gravity was immense; each step felt like carrying a boulder weighing hundreds of pounds. When Yang Nan had subdued the Crab General, he’d used divine light to pin him down—now he experienced that crushing weight himself, sweat pouring down as if he would collapse!

Some people could not withstand the pressure and collapsed, unable to rise. In truth, the burden was always set at the limit of one’s endurance; only those with weak wills felt it was unbearable.

At times, Yang Nan thought his legs would give out and the weight above would crush him to powder, but he clenched his teeth and pushed on. The harder he tried, the heavier the invisible weight became, as if it would never end and utterly break him. Yang Nan was in dire straits, but Yuanna fared even worse—his clothes soaked through as they trudged on like laborers. That short Mountain-Pressing Path took them nearly a whole day to cross!

When they emerged, Yang Nan felt as if he had been reborn; the brief journey had nearly broken his spirit and sapped his strength, leaving him in awe of the ordeal. Only those with unwavering will would dare try such a hellish path again.

‘These Seven Paths of Calamity are truly a test of the Daoist heart. After such torment, any new disciple’s resolve would be steeled!’ In that moment, Yang Nan understood the Kunlun Sect’s intent in setting such arduous trials, and his admiration for the sect only grew.

For Yang Nan, the Yin Calamity Path was the easiest. His spiritual aspect was that of a black serpent of the nether, and with the Shadowbite weapon, he felt as at home as a fish in water. The yin energy here was so dense that ordinary mortals would feel as though stabbed by countless needles, their souls frozen and chilled to the core.

With his magic weapon’s protection, Yang Nan passed easily, but Yuanna had no such luck. The soul-numbing chill left him dazed and slow, but Yang Nan dragged him through.

At the Sun Maze Path, their roles reversed. Yang Nan was dazzled by the blinding light, unable to tell direction, while the little monk was unaffected. After several missteps, Yang Nan made it through only with Yuanna’s help.

When they finally completed the Seven Paths of Calamity, both sighed with relief. Looking back at those still struggling in the mist, they exchanged grateful, knowing smiles, feeling as if they had survived a great ordeal.

They were not the first to finish, nor the last. Few had made it—only a handful out of thousands. Clearly, seeking enlightenment at Kunlun was no easy task!

Having endured these seven trials, their Daoist hearts were greatly strengthened. In truth, with a spiritual aspect, one could skip a path; someone like Yang Nan, with two aspects, endured only five of the calamities.

As they emerged, the fog before them suddenly cleared, revealing the breathtaking expanse of Kunlun Mountain. Amidst the ethereal peaks, a river of clouds cascaded down from the heavens like a celestial ladder, soaring into the sky with an awe-inspiring grandeur.

Ancient trees, fantastical rocks, exotic flowers, and rare beasts abounded. Eighty-one colossal peaks stretched for a thousand miles, each crowned with grand palaces and temples, magnificent and imposing. In the sky above, beams of light flashed—immortals, it seemed, flying past.

Yang Nan drew in a breath, awed by Kunlun’s majesty. He sighed, “This is truly a paradise on earth! Any minor sect would be fortunate to have a single spiritual peak—here there are eighty-one!”

Yuanna, dazzled, shook his head. “Immortals do as immortals please. After days of hardship, we’ve finally arrived.” Entering Kunlun, they reached the Immortal Reception Pavilion, where even the ever-optimistic Yuanna couldn’t help but yearn for a place as a registered disciple.

“Hey, what are those people doing up ahead instead of going to the mountain gate?” Yuanna suddenly pointed to four arguing youths. Those who had passed the Immortal-Seeking Path usually went straight to report at the main gate—why were these few lingering at the crossroads?

Yang Nan frowned, recognizing them immediately—a young man in black robes and three richly dressed youths, the very ones who had quarreled over a house at the Ten Thousand Treasures Hall.

These troublemakers, still quarreling even on Kunlun Mountain, showed no sense. Did they not fear being expelled by the sect? Yang Nan tugged Yuanna’s sleeve. “Little monk, let’s just watch and not get involved.”

They overheard the black-robed youth sneer, “Li Guo, you rabble brought up by connections dare bar my way? You overestimate yourselves!” The word “connections” dripped with contempt.

Li Guo, the leader, glared. “Ai Muyun, you coward! You fled from a fight outside the city, yet dare boast now? Chu Yang, Fang Sheng, teach him a lesson. This isn’t the city—leave the consequences to me.”

With that assurance, his two companions grinned wickedly, drew their weapons, and lunged at the black-robed youth. Ai Muyun, unwilling to reveal his full strength, dodged left and right, driven into a sorry state. Li Guo then produced a long, red-glowing whip and lashed out at Ai Muyun without warning!

This was no ordinary whip; it moved with speed and power, its red glow like a blazing cloud, radiating heat. Ai Muyun, startled, rolled aside just in time—the whip struck a stone, reducing it to powder!

The red whip slithered like a venomous serpent, its glow setting the air ablaze with heat. Li Guo, brandishing it, sneered, “Well, Ai, why so silent now? Competing with me for a house and for women, daring to seek the Dao here—do you not know that the senior outer disciple is a relative of mine?”

Ai Muyun, enraged, was about to strike back, but for some reason restrained himself. He sneered, “So what if he is? How impressive! But Kunlun Mountain doesn’t belong to your family. You’re nothing but a bully.” Arrogant by nature, Ai Muyun would not bow, even knowing Li Guo was dangerous.

Li Guo, seeing defiance even when outnumbered, flashed a fierce look. “Chu Yang, Fang Sheng—did you skip your meals? Cut down this black wretch for me!”

Their blades and swords slashed down but repeatedly missed as Ai Muyun’s movements seemed ghostly and elusive—though unable to retaliate, he was hard to harm.

Yuanna, seeing three on one, was indignant, but Yang Nan held him back, whispering, “That one in black is strange—best not provoke him.” Yang Nan’s insight surpassed Yuanna’s. Though Ai Muyun appeared beleaguered, he was plainly superior to any of the three. For some reason, he chose not to fight back. He seemed less demonic than in the city, but still had a hint of wickedness and pride. Demonic sect disciples were always mysterious and dangerous. With no ties to him, why should Yang Nan get involved?