Chapter 57 — To Sea

Xiaowan whispered, "That was close. We nearly ran into an old enemy." She shot Zhou Yixuan a glance. "It's all your fault, Grandfather. Wherever you go, you're liable to bump into someone you've cheated. I suppose the most wronged person in the world is me."

Zhou Yixuan gave Xiaowan a blank look and ignored her. Manager Wang, seeing the old immortal come out, had naturally hurried to greet him, diligently serving tea and dishes and entertaining him warmly. Zhou Yixuan did not stand on ceremony either, sitting down casually with Xiaowan and chatting with Manager Wang in a desultory way.

Manager Wang said, "Old Immortal, did you know? Last night, outside our Changhe City, I hear something big happened."

Zhou Yixuan started. "What happened?"

Manager Wang said, "I'm not too clear myself, but I heard that the righteous cultivators who have gathered here these past days ran into people from the demon cult last night over to the west of the city, and the two sides fell to fighting with spells. It was fierce, they say. People from the west of the city said even the city walls were shaking."

Zhou Yixuan said in surprise, "The demon cult and the righteous sects have already come to blows?"

Manager Wang shrugged. "The news all came this morning, but it's probably not false." Then, with some concern, he said, "Old Immortal, the righteous path is all cultivators, and I hear the demon cult generally doesn't trouble us common folk. But you have deep cultivation—if anyone asks you to take action against the demon cult, you must be careful."

"Pfft"—beside him, Xiaowan had just taken a sip of tea and could not help spraying it out.

Zhou Yixuan glared at Xiaowan. She struggled to hold back her laughter, and seeing Manager Wang look over with concern on his face, she managed with great effort to keep a normal tone: "Ah! Manager Wang, I—I'm fine, it's just, haha, I choked on my tea, haha, choked..."

Liubo Mountain in the Eastern Sea (Note 1) lies seven thousand li out into the sea, the easternmost reach of this world; beyond it lies the vast ocean, boundless and without end.

This place was utterly remote, and naturally had been deserted from the first. Yet just days after Zhang Qingyue and the others entered Kongsang Mountain, people of the demon cult suddenly appeared from every region, and within a few days dozens of cultivation sects had been wiped out by them, shaking the world. After eight hundred years, the demon cult had risen again, its power and prestige greater than ever.

Among the righteous path, the great sects—led by the Canglan Sect, the Fanyin Temple, and the Fenxia Valley—hurriedly took counsel together.

Just then word came suddenly from Fenxia Valley that a great number of the demon cult's people were gathering at the desolate place that was Liubo Mountain in the Eastern Sea, for reasons unknown.

When righteousness is at stake, the two sides cannot coexist. The righteous cultivators burned with indignation. Before long, led by the three great sects, they sent forth their finest disciples, headed by elders of profound cultivation, and marched in mighty array toward Liubo Mountain in the Eastern Sea. Along the way, many more righteous cultivators joined them, intent on sweeping away the demon horde and bringing benefit to all living things.

Along the road, Zhang Qingyue made a point of inquiring and learned something of what had happened; his blood ran hot, and his resolve to go to the Eastern Sea only grew firmer.

Yet this easternmost land was exceedingly far away. The demon cult had chosen that place, no doubt because they saw that although the Central Plains were rich and fertile, they were also where the three great sects had deep roots; so they were willing to flee to a remote island at the frontier. What they never expected was that the righteous path was now flourishing, and that in the hearts of all righteous folk, righteousness came first—they would charge all this way to destroy them and be done with it.

On the journey, Zhang Qingyue was impatient to press on, and apart from resting, he flew through the air on his black iron staff the whole way. After about two days more he was out over the sea; at first he often saw small islands, but after another ten days of flying, he had gone far, and saw only blue sea and blue sky, high heavens and pale clouds.

Often he flew a day and a night without stopping. The sea was clear and azure; were it not for the rolling waves, it would have been like a beautiful, translucent gem beneath his feet—yet there was not the faintest shadow of an island.

At such moments Zhang Qingyue was at a loss in midair. The sea wind blew cool against his face, but his heart was full of anxiety.

By today, he had been flying out over the Eastern Sea for ten days, and this time had gone a day and two nights without finding an island to rest on. He had never imagined he would lose his way on this boundless ocean.

Still, these past days of eating in the wind and sleeping in the open had done him no harm in other respects, but his skill at flying through the air had greatly improved—he was no longer as frightened as before.

Now he looked up at the sky, then down at the deep blue sea beneath his feet, and could not help a bitter smile.

Just as he was at his wit's end, Zhang Qingyue suddenly heard a clear birdsong ahead of him. He looked up and saw a pure white seagull, wings spread, soaring above the sea.

Zhang Qingyue's heart stirred. At the start of his voyage he had often seen such seabirds, but once he flew far enough, the birds could not reach, and he saw them no more. Yet here in the depths of the ocean he could still see seabirds—there must be islands nearby.

At that thought Zhang Qingyue grew excited and hesitated no longer, flying off in the direction of the gull. The vast sea stretched boundless; on the distant horizon, sea and sky were one color, as fair as a poem, as lovely as a painting.

Flying through the air between heaven and earth, he suddenly felt a sense of transcendence, his heart elated, as though his whole being had become one with the world.

After another half hour or so of flying, an island indeed appeared ahead. Looking down from the sky, the whole island was lush and green, covered in vegetation, and the water near the island was even clearer and more blue, like translucent blue jade.

Zhang Qingyue had flown a long while and was somewhat weary, so he brought his black iron staff down and landed to rest a while on the island. The moment his feet touched solid ground, he looked around, and saw that from the ground the scenery was different from above, and all the clearer.

The clear seawater washed in wave after wave against the white sand. Near the shore grew mostly a kind of tree not found in the Central Plains: the trunks rose tall with no side branches, thrusting straight into the sky, and only at the top did they spread great masses of foliage, beneath which hung fruit the size of a child's head.

Deeper into the island, besides these tall trees, low shrubs also grew thickly. The woods were dense, with no path to be seen—it seemed no one had set foot here in a thousand years.

Overhead, the seagulls cried and circled above the island, and the fresh sea breeze blew in from the horizon, cool and refreshing. Zhang Qingyue drew a deep breath. In this lonely frontier place, a wave of weariness came over him; seeing nothing strange around him, he found a clean spot, lay down just as he was, and soon fell fast asleep.

He slept rather soundly. The island was silent; apart from the tides and the sea wind there was no disturbance, and naturally no one came to disturb him. Zhang Qingyue slept straight through until dusk before he woke.