Chapter 2: A Pilgrim

“All right, chat! We said we’d climb one mountain for every Carnival gift, so today we’re going big. We’re livestreaming our climb up Sangshan!”

“…Everyone in the stream, send a few free gifts if you can! If you haven’t followed yet, give SkySea a follow with those lucky little fingers!”

The small-time streamer SkySea watched the view count climb and the gift effects flash across the screen. It took all their strength to keep their smile from growing too wide. They put on a woeful expression instead.

“Don’t send any more Carnivals today, chat. I’ve worn out two pairs of shoes already, and I still owe you seven mountains.”

The viewers were contrary by nature. At those words, the gifts poured in even faster. SkySea was delighted, but wore a long-suffering look as they turned the camera around to show everyone what Sangshan was like.

The camera swept across the plaza. SkySea was about to buy a ticket and start climbing when viewers began flooding the chat with comments about some handsome guy in ancient clothes and how incredible his figure was.

After the audience pointed him out, SkySea quickly spotted a person standing beneath the stone monument in the plaza.

The person had their back to the camera, so no one could see their face. But their outfit stood out so much that plenty of people nearby were looking their way.

It was midsummer, and the tourists had dressed for the heat. This person wore ancient-style robes, held a long sword, and even had a wig on!

Layer after layer of clothing covered them from head to toe. Just looking at them made SkySea feel hot.

For the sake of the livestream—and to indulge the viewers—SkySea approached the handsome stranger anyway.

“Sangshan’s beautiful. Maybe he’s here to shoot a cosplay photo set…”

Though Zhu Sheng had lost his cultivation, his senses remained sharp. When he noticed someone approaching from behind, he rested his thumb against the sword’s hilt.

“Hey~ Handsome, are you filming—”

The outgoing SkySea stepped closer and reached to pat Zhu Sheng on the shoulder. Their hand met empty air.

SkySea hadn’t seen how he’d moved. By the time they came to their senses, he was already two steps away.

SkySea frowned at the missed touch, then looked up and caught sight of Zhu Sheng’s face. They froze, and the words on their tongue changed course. They even stammered a little.

“H-handsome… are you shooting a film?”

A moment ago, SkySea had assumed he was taking cosplay photos. After seeing Zhu Sheng’s face, they immediately changed their mind.

Ninety-nine percent of cosplay shoots relied on a million-dollar photo-editing team. With a face like that, starring in a drama made far more sense.

After asking, SkySea glanced around for a camera operator or a member of the production crew.

Zhu Sheng sized up the person who had approached him. This person had their limbs just as bare as the others, wore strange clothes threaded with cords, and held a long, thin black rod.

His gaze settled on the black square mounted at the top of the rod.

What kind of magical tool is that? I’ve never seen one before.

I wonder what it can do.

The moment Zhu Sheng’s face appeared on camera, the livestream fell silent for two seconds. Then the comments came flying.

[Holy crap, is that face for real? Handsome, I’m yours!]

[Aaaah! I already thought his waist was so slim and his back was gorgeous. His face is even better! I’m falling in love!]

[I came to watch SkySea suffer, and now I get to see a ridiculously handsome guy! What a bonus!]

[He looked right at the camera… I’m dead.]

[SkySea, keep talking to him! Ask what he does. I don’t think anyone like him is in entertainment.]

[With that outfit, is he a new talent some agency’s about to debut?]

[…]

The viewers had been swept away by his looks, and the response was more enthusiastic than ever. SkySea was happy to see it and seized the opportunity, asking the questions the viewers wanted answered.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, handsome. I was just curious—aren’t you hot wearing all that?”

“Where’d you get that wig? It’s so shiny and smooth. It looks like great quality. Is it real hair?”

SkySea reached out to touch the hair hanging over Zhu Sheng’s shoulder. Once again, Zhu Sheng dodged the hand.

People here not only dressed boldly, but behaved strangely too. He had to be on his guard.

Two failures did nothing to discourage SkySea. They continued cheerfully.

“Your sword is so cool! And your clothes—at first glance, that really looks like blood. Your props are so detailed. I want to buy some too. Do you have a link?”

Zhu Sheng frowned at the chatterbox in front of him.

He still hadn’t figured out what sort of illusion this was, and Immortal Lord Wuyang wasn’t about to reveal himself carelessly.

SkySea was clearly livestreaming. Zhu Sheng was dressed like a swordsman from ancient times, so everyone assumed they were filming a short video together. Gradually, more people gathered around.

Like SkySea, everyone who saw Zhu Sheng reacted the same way at first. Several young women were especially affected; when he looked in their direction, their faces flushed.

Some people took photos, others recorded videos. Before long, more and more phones were pointed at Zhu Sheng.

He saw everyone aiming the unfamiliar objects at him and instinctively raised his sleeve to shield himself.

The crowd buzzed around him. Zhu Sheng had excellent hearing, and amid the din he caught several unfamiliar words:

“Take a picture together,” “Weibo,” “phone,” “WeChat ID,” “battle-worn makeup”…

He could understand their language, but not what any of it meant.

And what was this “divine-level beauty” they were talking about? He hadn’t even ascended yet. How could they call him an immortal?

The women in this illusion dressed with shocking boldness and drew closer and closer. Some even dared to reach for his hair and the Budu Sword.

Immortal Lord Wuyang didn’t know where to look. He decided he couldn’t stay here.

He had to break the illusion as soon as possible.

Before the absurd scene could draw any more attention, Zhu Sheng left the crowd with their chorus of reluctant “Aww”s trailing behind him and found a quiet place.

He kept watch along the way but still couldn’t find the Illusion Core.

He’d heard people say this place was called Sangshan, but not a single tree or rock matched the scenery he remembered.

Between his unharmed chest and this unfamiliar Sangshan, Zhu Sheng was certain he’d fallen into an illusion someone else had created.

He couldn’t put away the Budu Sword, so he absently rubbed the pattern on its hilt and lowered his eyes in thought.

His cultivation was gone. He had no spiritual power at all…

Immortal Lord Wuyang had entered countless secret realms and illusion formations over the years, but he’d never encountered anything this strange.

Knock, knock, knock.

A steady tapping came from behind him. An old monk carrying a wooden fish descended the stone path at an unhurried pace.

Compared with all the strange clothes around him, the old monk in his Buddhist robes and prayer beads finally offered Zhu Sheng a trace of familiarity.

The monk stopped in front of him and intoned a prayer.

“Amitabha, patron.”

Zhu Sheng inclined his head slightly. “Master.”

The people of Chan Buddhism kept their hearts clear of worldly distractions and made it their duty to guide all living beings. The abbot of Chan Buddhism owed Immortal Lord Wuyang a favor. And since Buddhists believed in ending killing through salvation, none of them had taken part in the pursuit.

That didn’t mean Zhu Sheng could let his guard down.

The old monk seemed not to notice Zhu Sheng’s hand resting on the Budu Sword. He studied him for a long time with eyes weathered by age. The fine lines at their corners softened, and his voice was low and distant.

“Patron… you have a connection to the Buddha.”

Back before Zhu Sheng had become Immortal Lord Wuyang, the revered abbot of Chan Buddhism had entered the palace to deliver a sermon. When he first saw the young Crown Prince, his opening words had been the same: that the boy had a connection to the Buddha.

Later, when Crown Prince Sheng decided to cultivate the Dao, the abbot had even considered taking him as his personal disciple.

But Zhu Sheng had chosen the Sword Sect instead.

Many years had passed. Now he was hearing the exact same words again, delivered with nearly the same tone and expression.

Zhu Sheng followed the old monk up the mountain path.

The winding trail led into a secluded place. Lush trees blotted out the blazing sun, and the occasional breeze brought a touch of coolness.

The old monk lived in a temple on the mountain. He said the Buddha had guided him a few days ago to come here, at this exact time and on this exact day, to wait for someone destined to meet him.

That someone was Zhu Sheng, of course.

Immortal Lord Wuyang made no comment.

He had followed the monk up the mountain because of the enigmatic words he’d spoken: “Since you’re here, you might as well make the best of it.”

Now that he had no spiritual power, the only way to break the illusion was to find its weak point. The old monk seemed to know something.

The Buddhist and Daoist paths could both read the heavens and discern destiny. Zhu Sheng had experienced the profundity of Buddhist teachings himself.

Only the two of them walked the winding trail. Zhu Sheng lifted his eyes to take in the beautiful scenery. The mountain was quiet.

The strange, noisy crowd from a short while ago had vanished like the tide going out. It all felt like a dream.

On the way back to the temple, the old monk didn’t tap his wooden fish. Zhu Sheng needed to learn as much as he could about this illusion, so he struck up a conversation.

After exchanging a few words, Zhu Sheng finally asked what kind of place this was.

The old monk stopped and smiled at him with all the air of an enlightened master. He spoke slowly, one word at a time.

“Paradise.”

Zhu Sheng paused. “Paradise?”

He hadn’t even gone through tribulation. How could he have reached paradise?

When Zhu Sheng pressed him, the old monk merely rolled his prayer beads and said that the secrets of heaven could not be revealed. Zhu Sheng had no choice but to let it go.

After walking a little farther, they came to a fork in the path. The other trail was choked with wild grass, and a yellow cord blocked the entrance. It was impossible to see where the path led.

“This is the only path on all of Sangshan that you can’t take,” the old monk said, noticing Zhu Sheng’s gaze.

Zhu Sheng looked away and nodded to show he understood. He didn’t ask why.

When he stayed quiet for a long while, the old monk looked over at him.

“Isn’t Patron Zhu curious?”

Immortal Lord Wuyang had never been very curious, but the old monk had a strong urge to explain.

“The path leads to a deep pool. The yin energy there is so strong that ordinary people who enter suffer nightmares at best. At worst, it shortens their lives. So the place was sealed off.”

Zhu Sheng could no longer sense yin energy or resentful spirits. At the monk’s words, he took another look.

“Do you know why?”

There were many places in the world heavy with yin energy, places where no living person should go. But the Sangshan he knew had no such deep pool.

The old monk glanced toward the forbidden path.

“I’ve heard the pool was once an ancient burial ground. More than a hundred bones lie at the bottom, where it’s dark day and night. No one gathered or buried them, and no one ever paid their respects. The dead were trapped in that freezing water, unable to rest in peace. Their resentment became overwhelming.”

“But that’s only a legend.” The old monk changed tack. “As I understand it, a couple of years ago a tourist ignored the warnings and went swimming there. An online celebrity drowned, and the story spread quickly. It even made the news. That’s when the place became off-limits.”

Zhu Sheng didn’t know what “made the news” meant, but he understood the rest.

A person called an online celebrity had died in the pool, and it had been closed off.

The Crown Prince looked away, no longer interested in the forbidden place.

…

The temple the old monk had mentioned was on a side peak, far from everything. A thick layer of fallen leaves covered the stone steps before its doors. It was so deserted that Zhu Sheng wondered whether any pilgrims ever came.

The temple wasn’t large, and its layout was simple. Behind the main hall were the meditation rooms, kitchen, dining hall, and other quarters for the master and his two disciples. The pilgrims’ guest rooms occupied a separate courtyard, where a peach tree grew.

The temple was sparsely staffed too. There was only the old monk and his two young disciples.

Zhu Sheng looked at the dilapidated temple, worn down by age, and wondered if one strong gust of wind might blow it over.

The old monk led him to the rear courtyard.

“The rooms on either side are both empty. Make yourself at home.”

There were three guest rooms. Zhu Sheng glanced toward the one in the middle. The old monk joined his palms.

“You’re a step too late, patron. Someone’s already booked this one.”

Zhu Sheng pointed to one of the other two at random. He was surprised that anyone would come to stay at such a remote temple.

As if he knew what Zhu Sheng was thinking, the old monk smiled.

“The patron in the room next to yours is a regular here. He comes to stay on the mountain around this time every year.”

The old monk paused before adding, “The weather’s so lovely this summer. I imagine he’ll stay a little longer than usual this time.”