“I have long heard that the sacred ground of Lingbao is a pure land revered by cultivators alike. Back then, Immortal Master Ge Hong stunned the Central Lands, becoming one of the strongest figures in the history of Daoism. We have come here admiring the Dao, hoping to pay our respects to this holy site,” Ye Fan said.
Guo Zhen also stepped forward and bowed, requesting permission to enter. They held no disrespect in their hearts—it was precisely because of their admiration that they had come here seeking this visit, hoping to fulfill this wish of theirs.
“To pay respects to the relics of the sages, you may go to the Daoist temple outside. This secret ground has never been open to outsiders,” said a disciple of the Lingbao Sect, his expression cold and displeased.
The four young men were clearly on distant terms with Guo Zhen. Guo Zhen had followed them all the way here, yet they showed such heartlessness—not even willing to say a word on his behalf, and instead speaking with such cold, contemptuous words.
“Although we are acquainted, this place truly does not allow outsiders to enter,” another person said bluntly, lumping him together with Ye Fan as mere outsiders, his tone full of disdain.
“What kind of person would not be considered an outsider?” Ye Fan asked, seeing Guo Zhen’s embarrassment. He had no intention of leaving just like that—he was determined to see Ge Hong’s meditation retreat no matter what.
“Do you really think of yourselves as senior experts of a bygone era?” another young man couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
The old Daoist priest nearby had once said that only senior experts of great standing could come here to lecture on the Dao, able to freely enter and exit this once-pure land of Lingbao.
“There are thirty-three steps at the mountain gate, representing the heavenly positions for ascending to immortality. If any one of you can climb past the eighth step, we will reluctantly consider you to have passed, and you may enter,” the old Daoist said.
A few ancient pines stood like coiling green dragons at the foot of the mountain, said to have been personally planted by Ge Hong himself, evergreen and vigorous, twisted like coiling dragons.
There were thirty-three stone steps there, different from the other bluestone steps leading up the mountain. It was said that in ancient times this was the most ordinary test—even the Daoist attendants who served the True Immortals were capable of walking across them, otherwise they would not be permitted to freely travel up and down the mountain.
But now, only the older generation could walk them. Ordinary disciples could only go around, taking the small path beside these stone steps to avoid them—incomparable to ancient times.
Ye Fan had originally intended to simply walk straight up, but Guo Zhen was quite stubborn. He insisted on trying, having been repeatedly looked down upon by people he knew. There was inevitably some fire in his heart, difficult to suppress.
One step, two steps, three steps—Guo Zhen, relying on his own cultivation, felt exhausted after just three steps, unable to take a fourth. Such was the state of heaven and earth now; compared to ancient cultivators, those seeking the Dao today generally had low cultivation, difficult to improve.
Beside them, the four young men chuckled softly, all shaking their heads. Even they didn’t dare walk the stone steps, believing Guo Zhen simply didn’t understand this and would only embarrass himself by trying.
“Shua!”
A cluster of blue-cyan light lit up. A blue-gold metal fragment appeared in Guo Zhen’s hand, engraved with an incredibly ancient talisman symbol, radiating streams of blue-gold brilliance that enveloped him.
“Bang,” “Bang”…
Guo Zhen continued for six more steps, taking nine steps in total, exceeding the standard the old man had mentioned. Drenched in sweat, he then leaped forcefully off the stone steps, retreating back down.
The four young men beside them were all astonished, staring at the blue-gold fragment in his hand. The talisman symbol on it was extremely mysterious, capable of granting Guo Zhen such a performance all at once. Under normal circumstances, none of these four could have done this either—they could only manage three steps at most. They hadn’t expected Guo Zhen to actually accomplish this.
The old Daoist was also astonished, staring unblinkingly at the blue-gold talisman, and said, “Although you relied on a spiritual treasure, it still counts as passing. You may go up.”
Guo Zhen let out a long breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead, carefully putting away the blue-gold fragment. At his current cultivation level, he still couldn’t absorb weapons into his body’s meridian sea.
“Relying on external objects—what kind of ability is that,” one young man muttered quietly. The four of them, feeling they had lost face, didn’t linger any longer and quickly headed up the mountain.
Guo Zhen seemed exhausted after taking those nine steps. He hurried back and sat cross-legged on the ground, recovering his essence and energy.
Ye Fan looked at the thirty-three stone steps, walking up one step at a time until he had completed them all, then walked back down.
Below, the old Daoist was nearly terrified, his mouth agape in shock—even he could only walk halfway up. Yet this young man walked as easily as strolling through his own courtyard. He knew he was in the presence of a true expert of great standing, and should address him as an elder and pay respects.
Ye Fan stopped him, shaking his head, then came to Guo Zhen’s side, channeling a pure surge of divine power into him. Instantly, all traces of exhaustion vanished from Guo Zhen’s face, his whole body feeling refreshed and restored to normal.
“Brother Ye…” He was naturally greatly startled, quickly opening his eyes.
“It’s nothing much. I usually store some extra internal essence in my magical implement,” Ye Fan explained with a smile.
Guo Zhen felt relieved—otherwise he really would have thought he’d encountered a senior expert. Channeling primal energy like this to another person was very taxing; but if it came from essence stored within a magical implement, that was an entirely different matter.
The old Daoist watched respectfully as they walked up a small path toward the mountain, heading to the Daoist temple on the platform above. He himself did not move, forcefully shaking his head, continuing to guard the mountain gate.
Along the way, all they saw were verdant pines and cypresses, cranes dancing in the sky, circling from time to time. This place was wreathed in clouds and mist, looking like an immortal realm, with spiritual energy many times denser than the outside world.
When they reached the platform atop this broken mountain, the first thing they saw was a bluestone statue—a Daoist figure, carrying an air of composure, with the bearing of one who had transcended the mortal world, as if he had seen through everything in the human realm.
This was a statue erected by later generations in memory of Immortal Master Ge Hong, lifelike and vivid, untouched by mortal concerns, as if about to ascend and become immortal.
The Lingbao Sect was founded by Ge Xuan and flourished under Ge Hong, holding a pivotal position in the history of Daoism, its influence beyond compare. Mount Gezao had also become one of the three great sacred mountains of southern Daoism.
Standing on the platform, Ye Fan looked out in all directions, seeing clouds and mist surging, the mountain ranges towering and majestic, peaks spiritual and valleys elegant. He sighed with emotion—this place truly was extraordinary.
In the distance, several other broken mountains stood alongside this one. Although the spiritual energy had dried up, there remained a kind of residual ripple from the great Dao’s creative power, causing his heart to tremble. Was this something Ge Hong had left behind?
Coming to this former ground of the Lingbao Sect, seeking traces of Ge Hong’s legacy was one reason, but he also wanted to verify a rumor that seemed too fantastical—whether it was true or not.
In Daoism, the reason the Lingbao Sect held such a pivotal position, wielding such dominant influence, was because the Lingbao Celestial Worthy—one of the Three Purities revered by Daoism—arose from this very lineage. Daoist historical records show that this sect once participated in establishing the identities of the Three Purities.
“Legend has it that in an era far earlier than antiquity, there was once a Celestial Worthy titled Lingbao. Whether this is true or false, I do not know,” Ye Fan murmured to himself.
The Lingbao Celestial Worthy is revered by all branches of Daoism today. As for whether such a being truly existed, it has long since become impossible to verify for the cultivation world.
Yet the very fact that the Lingbao Sect took such a name for its founding was enough to explain everything, indirectly proving its supreme status within Daoism.
Ye Fan captured the ripples of the great Dao’s creative power, pondering carefully. Back when he was on the other end of the starry expanse, he had heard about the origins of the Nine Secrets. Some said they were created by several Celestial Worthies of the Dao family who had passed away. Others said they were secret techniques left behind by supreme figures of different eras in the primordial age before their transcendence, later combined by later generations. Still others said the Nine Secrets were the result of countless people’s refinements over time.
“Ge Hong may have possessed one or two of the Nine Secrets. And from the sect’s name, it’s not hard to make some connections—could it be that the Lingbao Celestial Worthy was one of the several Celestial Worthies who founded the Nine Secrets back then?”
On the broken mountain, these Daoist temples were all very ancient. Although the great cultivators of profound spiritual powers had all passed away, everything here still testified to its former glory. The remaining traces of the Dao, the incomplete formations of the sages, were shocking to behold.
However, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth was too thin now; these things were difficult to operate, and for some unknown reason, they were all gradually deteriorating on their own. Left long enough, they would surely all be worn away completely.
“So this is what you all call a senior expert?” A young woman stood before a Daoist temple, laughing softly, her appearance quite beautiful, looking at Ye Fan and Guo Zhen. Some other young people stood beside her.
“Yes indeed, this is the one who broke through nine stone steps. You should all consult him more later,” one of the four young cultivators who had known Guo Zhen said mockingly.
Several people burst out laughing upon hearing this. They were all younger-generation figures who had come here accompanying their sect elders, clearly already acquainted with each other. Ye Fan patted Guo Zhen on the shoulder, telling him to calm his mind—there was nothing worth arguing over—and pulled him along toward the Daoist temple.
“You’re really going in there? That’s a place for elders to discuss the Dao—do you plan to lecture on scriptures for us too?”
A group of people followed them in as they saw this. The courtyard was lush with green grass, ancient trees towering to the sky. Not far away, over a dozen elderly people sat cross-legged on futons, discussing the Dao, with some young people listening nearby.
Ye Fan pulled Guo Zhen along, finding two futons at the edge to sit down on. Some of the young people immediately showed looks of astonishment, all turning to stare over.
“You two are really… you really think of yourselves as accomplished masters, daring to sit here?” The four young men who knew Guo Zhen no longer showed contempt now, but rather pity.
Many people looked over; even the elderly figures noticed this, all somewhat astonished.
“What’s wrong?” Guo Zhen asked, confused.
“Look around—who among us dares to sit down? Aren’t we all respectfully standing here listening to the true teachings?” one person said, with a hint of schadenfreude.
“But aren’t they young people too? They’re sitting there as well,” Guo Zhen said, puzzled, pointing toward the dozen or so young men and women in front.
“Guo Zhen, you really are naive. Can you two even compare with them? Those are core disciples of great talent who emerged from the sect’s secret grounds.”
The standing young men and women looked at those figures with both envy and jealousy, but shook their heads at Ye Fan and Guo Zhen. Especially the earlier four, who wore looks of mockery, watching the scene with amusement.
Guo Zhen was at a loss, about to stand up, but Ye Fan held him back, saying that since they were already seated, there was no need to get up again.
“Who are you people, why have you sat here on your own accord? Who invited you in?” a core disciple sitting on a futon across from them asked.
Ye Fan looked closely and found these young people were indeed impressive, all above the Fate Spring realm—compared to the others, truly extraordinary.
“They climbed the nine stone steps on their own,” someone quickly recounted what had happened.
The dozen or so elderly people were all startled, seriously sizing up the two of them, making Guo Zhen feel entirely uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Ye Fan was observing them too—these masters were all above the Dao Palace secret realm, quite formidable for this current era, with even three of them at the Four Ultimates secret realm.
“Is that so, climbed up on your own? Then let me test whether you really have the qualifications to sit here,” said a core disciple of the Lingbao Sect, standing up from his futon, currently in the late Fate Spring realm.
“Didn’t I already prove myself down below? Why does it need to continue?” Guo Zhen’s head was spinning. He was just a lone cultivator, and everyone here belonged to a major sect. It was rumored that within their secret grounds there might even be living great spiritual powers—one shouldn’t provoke disciples of such sects.
“The trial at the mountain gate was too simple. Anyone with decent cultivation could walk eight or nine steps—that’s nothing remarkable. If you can walk four steps on that staircase, I’ll have nothing more to say, and would bow and address you as an elder for life,” the young man said, pointing toward the tallest platform, which also had thirty-three stone steps leading straight to the platform above.
Everyone present changed expression at this. What place was this? It was where the ancient sect leaders had once ascended the platform to lecture on the Dao. Could anyone even go up there now? Even those who could climb just a few steps had become rare.
“I once heard that Immortal Master Ge Hong of the Lingbao Sect once authored a Daoist text discussing the Nine Secrets. If we can walk up there, we won’t be unreasonable—we only ask that you tell us the origins of the Nine Secrets,” Ye Fan spoke.
He had come here for the Nine Secrets—his purpose was clear. He wanted to confirm whether the Lingbao Sect truly possessed one or two of the Secrets.
Many people burst into laughter. Only the dozen or so old Daoist priests showed a flicker in their expressions, but after looking Ye Fan and his companion over again, they relaxed, not noticing anything particularly profound about their cultivation.
“You really think you can compare to the supreme sect leaders of ancient times?”
“Even if there are great spiritual powers today, they might not be able to walk the full thirty-three steps of the Dao platform—and you think you can?”
Many people laughed, their tone full of mockery, feeling this was simply too unrealistic. Those who knew Guo Zhen shook their heads, feeling genuine pity for the two of them now.