Huamei Mountain, Zanglong Temple.
Outside the Seven Stars Hall, Zhou Wuji paced back and forth, a flywhisk in hand, occasionally looking up at the deep starry sky above him.
It was late autumn, and the Seven Stars of the Big Dipper hung high in the sky, their handle pointing west.
Zhou Wuji thought back to his previous life. Back then, he hadn’t paid any attention to the movements of the stars; he’d only spouted nonsense about constellations to fool women.
Now, however, he had to study the constellations of the Big Dipper every day, trying to draw on their primordial energy and sense the changes in the heavens and earth.
Unfortunately, even though he had awakened his innate wisdom and possessed the intellect and resilience of an adult, his progress over the past decade or so had been nothing to write home about.
This world was much like ancient China, except that here there were powerful cultivators, man-eating demons and monsters, and soul-devouring spectres—it was an extremely perilous place.
To thrive in this world, the most important thing was to possess sufficient power.
Thinking of this, Zhou Wuji couldn’t help but sigh; he had been trying all sorts of methods in an attempt to find a shortcut.
As it turned out, talent was the most important factor in cultivation; things like hard work and perseverance were secondary.
Clever tricks were even more useless!
“Luckily, I found a good master. The old man is quite skilled and has his own Taoist temple. Just hanging around with him, eating and waiting to die, isn’t so bad…”
Just as Zhou Wuji was lost in these pleasant thoughts, a blinding flash of light suddenly lit up the main hall, followed by a low, muffled thud.
He was startled. The old man was performing a secret ritual in the main hall—how could he have made such a commotion?
Without a moment’s hesitation, Zhou Wuji hurriedly pushed open the door and rushed into the main hall.
High above stood the solemn and majestic statue of the Northern Pole Heavenly Emperor. Before the statue, an altar was set with offerings of incense, candles, fruit, orchids, and grains.
The dim, yellow glow from the two eternal lamps flickered violently, causing the statue of the Northern Pole Heavenly Emperor to alternately lighten and darken, creating an indescribably gloomy and eerie atmosphere.
A short, stocky figure lay motionless in front of the altar; judging by the silhouette, it was none other than his master, Li Yiyuan.
Zhou Wuji rushed forward to help his master up, but as soon as he drew near, he caught a strong, acrid smell of burning.
When he helped his master to his feet, he saw that the old man was charred black from head to toe, with not a single patch of intact skin visible.
“Master, Master…” Zhou Wuji was truly shocked; the old man’s condition looked dire.
Li Yiyuan slowly opened one unharmed eye; his dilated pupil gradually contracted, and only then did he clearly make out Zhou Wuji’s face.
This slight movement caused several tiny, charcoal-like fragments to crumble from his face.
The old man recognized his closest disciple and breathed a sigh of relief. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Wuji, I violated the Great Precept by misusing a secret technique and was struck by the Heavenly Punishment of Yin Thunder. I’m done for…”
Though Zhou Wuji possessed the wisdom and experience of two lifetimes, seeing his master in such a pitiful state filled him with sorrow, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
The old man had not only saved his life but had also treated him better than anyone else—who would have thought he would suddenly suffer such a calamity!
“Time is of the essence. Listen to me.”
Li Yiyuan knew his time was running out; he had to settle all his final affairs before he passed away.
Zhou Wuji replied earnestly, “Master, speak—I’m listening!”
“I—” Li Yiyuan had barely uttered a single word when his throat grew so parched he could no longer speak.
Zhou Wuji sensed something was wrong and said, “Master, why don’t you write it on my clothes with lamp oil first—”
Li Yiyuan was pleased with his disciple’s quick thinking, but he shook his head, signaling that it wasn’t necessary.
As a Seventh-Rank Ordained Taoist Priest, he possessed even more sophisticated methods.
Li Yiyuan formed a ritual seal with his hands, channeling all his spiritual energy, and gently tapped Zhou Wuji’s brow.
With a “boom”—as if a thunderclap had exploded deep within Zhou Wuji’s mind—he immediately “saw” a black book.
The book had a simple, ancient design, with five mysterious and intricate characters on its black cover.
Though he didn’t recognize them, he instinctively knew what they meant: The Book of Celestial Punishment of the Northern Emperor.
At the same moment, Li Yiyuan’s voice rang out in Zhou Wuji’s mind: “This book is called the Book of the Northern Emperor’s Celestial Punishment. It is the most important divine artifact of our Northern Pole Sect, and also the Daoist sect’s foremost weapon of destruction…”
Through Li Yiyuan’s explanation, Zhou Wuji learned that the Book of the Northern Emperor’s Celestial Punishment was a sect artifact that had been lost for several hundred years.
By a twist of fate, it had fallen into his master’s hands.
In an attempt to cultivate the secret techniques within, his master had inadvertently violated the precepts, triggering a Yin Thunder that obliterated both his physical form and spiritual essence.
“The Book of the Northern Emperor’s Celestial Punishment contains a total of one hundred and eight minor precepts and thirty-six major precepts; its code of conduct is the most stringent of all. Now that you hold this divine artifact, you must take me as a warning, strictly observe the precepts, and refrain from acting recklessly.”
Li Yiyuan transmitted his thoughts through spiritual perception; by this point, he was utterly exhausted, and his voice came out in fits and starts.
Zhou Wuji nodded vigorously.
“The Northern Emperor’s Book of Celestial Punishment is a supreme divine artifact with boundless applications. Study it carefully and thoroughly, but under no circumstances must you reveal its contents to anyone else.
“However, the Northern Emperor’s Book of Celestial Punishment is an artifact, not a teaching. To learn true supreme teachings, you must come to this academy. This is the key…”
Li Yiyuan sighed as he spoke: “You’ve been deep-thinking and resilient since childhood, so these things won’t be too difficult for you.
“It’s just that you’re a bit petty and prone to cutting corners; your magnanimity leaves something to be desired. You’ll need to pay attention to that in the future.”
Zhou Wuji felt a bit wronged. It was true that he liked to take shortcuts, but how was he narrow-minded?
His master’s judgment wasn’t exactly spot-on either… but given the old man’s dire condition, he couldn’t very well argue.
“Zhang Wuding, Fang Wuzhen, and the others are all direct descendants of the county’s major clans. These clans are short-sighted and motivated solely by profit. Should I die unexpectedly, they will inevitably set their sights on Canglong Monastery. This would be very detrimental to you!
“If you can’t outmaneuver them, you should take a step back and go to the Lower Monastery for now. I’m on very good terms with your Senior Uncle Yiping; he’ll look out for you a bit for my sake…”
Zhou Wuji nodded again. Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen were his fellow disciples, and their relationship had been decent enough.
But when it came to the true teachings of the Zanglong Monastery, that bond of brotherhood was of no consequence.
Having made his final arrangements, Li Yiyuan exhaled a long, heavy breath. The light in his uninjured eye gradually dimmed.
“Over ten years ago, I chanced upon the Book of the Northern Emperor’s Celestial Punishment deep underground. I believed I was carrying out Heaven’s mandate and was certain I would one day become renowned throughout the world, attain the Dao, and ascend to immortality.
“I never imagined that one wrong step would lead to my death and the loss of my Dao. The Great Dao is arduous—the Great Dao is arduous!”
As Li Yiyuan sighed, he gripped Zhou Wuji’s wrist tightly with one hand: “This Great Dao—you must continue on it in my stead. Go up to the Nine Heavens and see for yourself what the Heavenly Emperor and the Buddha truly look like!”
“Yes!” Zhou Wuji replied in a solemn voice.
Having received Zhou Wuji’s assent, the spiritual light in Li Yiyuan’s eyes gradually faded. With his final breath, he sighed softly: “With three inches of vital energy, a thousand uses are possible; once it is gone, all is lost…”
Without his powerful spiritual awareness to sustain him, the Daoist’s body held not a single spark of life.
Zhou Wuji realized his master had died, and only then did he slowly let go of him.
Daoist Yiyuan lay motionless on the ground; his clothes and hair had been scorched black by the Yin Thunder, making him look like a large lump of charcoal.
The only intact item was the Seven-Star Sword in its black wooden scabbard that the old man had carried with him.
This sword was a Seventh-Rank magical artifact, specifically designed to subdue ghosts, spirits, and demons. The old man had always treasured it and never allowed Zhou Wuji to touch it.
The more the old man guarded it, the more Zhou Wuji schemed to sneak a peek at the Seven-Star Sword.
But he wasn’t in the mood for that now. Zhou Wuji picked up the Seven-Star Sword and casually slung it around his waist.
Zhou Wuji stared into space for a while longer before kneeling on the meditation cushion and bowing deeply before the divine statue: “By the mercy of the Heavenly Emperor, this disciple is willing to forfeit three years, four years…”
He thought for a moment, then steeled his resolve and said, “I’ll sacrifice five years of my life so that Li Yiyuan may ascend to immortality and be free from all suffering and misfortune.”
Zhou Wuji then felt that wasn’t right—his five years of life probably weren’t worth that much. He added, “It’d be enough if the old man could be reborn into a good family…”
