Chapter 30

(Please vote and add to your favorites. Votes are valid until Friday, and if we reach 1,000 votes by then, I'll update three times on Saturday. These few days will also be a good time to develop the plot, as an important turning point is approaching.)

The cliff face was steep, almost vertical, and even the faint path had been overgrown with dark green moss over the past five hundred years.

It took Qing Yu and his companion nearly half an hour to descend the fifty-zhang slope, and by the time they reached the bottom, their gazes toward Su Qiniang had become even more peculiar, even tinged with embarrassment.

"Su Freak, how did you train? Your eyesight and strength are like you've accumulated over a decade of practice," the fat Qing Ye couldn't help but shout. He felt extremely unbalanced. This kid had only been at Wudang for a few days, yet he had already reached the fifth level of the "Turtle Snake Skill." The precision of his strength and the sharpness of his eyesight didn't seem like he had any unstable foundation. In fact, his profound foundation even surpassed the two of them, who had been in the outer court for nearly four years.

Of course, they didn't know that Su Qiniang possessed the rare mental martial art, "Mihun Dafa," which allowed him to delve into the mental realm even before reaching the Dragon Tiger stage. His mental energy enveloped his body, allowing him to perceive details within a ten-zhang radius, and his control over strength was naturally far superior to ordinary martial artists who hadn't yet established a foundation.

Hearing the fat man's words, Su Qiniang could only roll his eyes. "Mihun Dafa" was extraordinary, and he had been exploring it on his own. Even the techniques beyond the fifteenth level were incomplete, and he didn't know if there were any major flaws. Otherwise, Su Qiniang wouldn't mind passing it on to the two of them.

Qingyang Gorge was not small, spanning two to three hundred zhang, but now it was overgrown with wild grass, far from the lively scene of gurgling springs and abundant herbs of the past.

There were a few old Taoist temples, where the glazed tiles still hinted at their former glory, but now only ruins remained.

"This is the former Qingyang Temple. In the past, the 'Qianli Yuanheng Step' was unparalleled in Wudang, surpassing even the 'Tiyun Leap' of the first generation's Three Mad Masters. The Qingyang Sword was also bright and grand, comparable to the Taiji Sword. It's hard to believe that it was destroyed five hundred years ago, and its lineage was cut off," Qing Yu sighed.

At this moment, the three of them stood before a broken palace gate, where the grass grew wildly, and even the plaque inscribed by the first generation peak master of Qingyang Peak was covered with dense cracks, only the characters "Qingyang" faintly visible.

"Prosperity and decline are inevitable, the cycle of heaven, and no one can escape it. It's just that we mortals find it hard to see through," Su Qiniang mused.

"But now is our chance," the fat Qing Ye said excitedly. "By obtaining the lineage of Qingyang Peak, it's like a withered tree coming to life. One cycle has ended, and we will be the pioneers of the next cycle."

They entered the temple.

Su Qiniang saw some stone lamps, the oil inside long dried up, and the green bricks on the ground were still mostly intact, though overgrown with grass several feet tall.

"During its peak, Qingyang Temple had 136 rooms besides the main hall and Qingyang Pavilion, and nearly a hundred disciples, including many second-rate Dragon Tiger realm practitioners and even top-tier figures listed on the Dragon Tiger Chart," Qing Yu explained, recounting some historical anecdotes from the Wudang history records in the outer court's scripture hall. Each of the seventy-two peaks had its own glory, and Qingyang Peak was among the best. If not for the battle five hundred years ago, Qingyang Peak would likely be even more prosperous today.

The three of them walked through the main hall and Qingyang Pavilion of Qingyang Temple. Apart from some broken tables and chairs, even the statue of the True Wu Emperor in the main hall had disappeared.

"Qingyang Peak declined and was completely divided among the other peaks five hundred years ago. The remaining second- and third-rate martial arts manuals in Qingyang Pavilion were also taken away by the other peaks," the fat man said coldly. "For example, the 'Jinguang Sword' of Jinsuo Peak was called 'Qingguang Sword' five hundred years ago. It was one of the few second-rate sword techniques left in Qingyang Pavilion, and even the seed of true intent was intact. Who would have thought that after five hundred years, the people and the tea would be different, and even the orthodox martial arts would be altered?"

Su Qiniang remained silent, reflecting on the passage of time and the warmth and coldness of human relationships. Even a place like Wudang, a Daoist stronghold, couldn't escape such changes. Practicing martial arts naturally comes with a competitive spirit, and the complexities of these matters would likely elicit different reactions from the other peaks if the Qingyang lineage hadn't been cut off.

After passing the main hall of Qingyang Temple, the three of them came to a dried-up spring.

The spring, about three zhang in size, had only a few feet of water left at the bottom, covered with a layer of dry, cracked pebbles.

"The famous Qingyang Spring, known for refining weapons, has also dried up, cutting off one of the ten ancient springs," Qing Yu sighed deeply, then reached into his pocket and took out a bronze figurine about the size of a baby's fist. The bronze figurine was carved into the shape of a sheep, with large, twisted horns and a sharp tip reaching to the sky, about half the size of the sheep's body. The bronze sheep was covered with dark green rust, clearly worn by the passage of time.

"The entrance to the Spirit World is here," Su Qiniang said, his eyes narrowing.

Qing Yu nodded solemnly. "I obtained this Qingyang Token by chance in Wudang Mountain. Otherwise, even if the entrance to the Spirit World were here, we wouldn't be able to open it."

Without hesitation, Qing Yu threw the bronze sheep into the dried-up Qingyang Spring.

Ding!

A light sound echoed, as if reverberating through the ages. Then, Su Qiniang saw a point of blue-gold light appear in the spring, spreading like flowing water. It seemed slow, but before Su Qiniang could react, it had already covered his feet.

The blue-gold divine light grew intense, blocking all sight. Even the mental energy Su Qiniang released outside his body was forced back by an invisible force, retreating to his ancestral spirit chamber, unable to move.

When the three of them regained their vision, everything before them had changed.

"This is the Spirit World!"

Even with Su Qiniang's rational and composed nature, he was momentarily stunned. The scene before him, though still Qingyang Temple, had undergone a dramatic transformation. The dried-up spring was now a clear, blue-green pool, with a layer of pale white cold mist floating on the surface.

"The Qingyang Spring, revived?"

The fat Qing Ye blinked, even pinching himself to make sure, wincing in pain but then breaking into a wide smile. "What a treasure! This Qingyang Spring alone is priceless. How many weapon craftsmen would flock to it? Even a spirit-level weapon can only be refined with the water from one of the ten ancient springs. A damaged treasure weapon, when tempered with ancient spring water, could likely reach a higher level."

Turning around, they saw that the ruins were gone, replaced by a grand Qingyang Temple with glazed tiles and green walls.

"That is...?"

Su Qiniang looked up, somewhat dazed, and saw a blue-gold sun not too high in the sky, about two to three thousand zhang high, radiating a warm, spring-like light.

At that moment, the entire Qingyang Temple was bathed in blue-gold sunlight, while outside, a white mist obscured everything, making it impossible to see the way back.

"Let's go."

The three of them exchanged glances and headed toward the main hall of Qingyang Temple. As they approached, they heard the sounds of intense training and the clash of weapons.

Turning the corner of Qingyang Pavilion, the three of them stopped in their tracks. In the hundred-zhang square training ground of Qingyang Temple, there were dozens, even nearly a hundred people training.

Some were practicing sword techniques, their swords glowing with a green light, leaving dozens or even hundreds of green sword shadows in the air.

"The Qingguang Sword Technique!" Qing Yu murmured, his eyes wide with admiration as he was just beginning to explore the path of the sword.

Others were practicing palm techniques, each move generating rolling thunder sounds. The palms seemed to contain a thunder pool, and when the palm force was released, it shattered the air, creating a vacuum that flickered with lightning.

"Could it be the Zelai Palm Technique?"

The fat man's eyes nearly popped out. The Zelai Palm Technique, a legendary technique of Qingyang Peak, was the epitome of yang energy, derived from the I Ching's principle of "thunder in the marsh, all things dormant." Among the many top-tier martial arts of Wudang, few could match it. Historical records even noted that the first generation peak master of Qingyang Peak could summon lightning in his palm, using it to contend with the Beggar Sect's Dragon Subduing Palm, exchanging eighteen blows and emerging unscathed. (Please vote and add to your favorites. Votes are valid until Friday, and if we reach 1,000 votes by then, I'll update three times on Saturday. These few days will also be a good time to develop the plot, as an important turning point is approaching.)