Chapter 94: The Last Seat (Seeking Support)

The mountain was not tall, but steep. A narrow path, hidden among the overgrown grass, wound its way upward, clearly untouched for a long time. Yi Fan led the old donkey around a bend and soon spotted a large rock nearby, upon which sat a Daoist monk cross-legged.

Hearing footsteps, the monk opened his eyes and frowned. “Who are you? Why have you come here? Leave at once.”

Yi Fan was momentarily taken aback, puzzled—hadn’t Zhou Cong informed the guardians of the mountain path? Otherwise, why speak so harshly? Suppressing his frustration, he cupped his hands and said, “I am Yi Fan, invited by Daoist Zhou Cong of the Bailin Temple on Mount Qianyun to attend a gathering.”

The monk lifted his eyelids lazily and gave him a faint glance. “In that case, wait here. Daoist Zhou Cong and his junior disciple Liu Hui have gone outside the mountain to fetch others and will return shortly. Let him verify your identity before you proceed further.”

Yi Fan’s expression shifted slightly. Even a fool could see this monk was deliberately making things difficult. Whether he waited here or tried to force his way in, he would be ridiculed. Forget about broadening his horizons; avoiding contempt would be a victory.

Just then, a sudden flutter of robes accompanied by swift footsteps echoed as four or five figures leapt nimbly over the rocks and arrived before them. Among them were Zhou Cong and Liu Hui.

Seeing Yi Fan, Zhou Cong was momentarily stunned, then glanced at the monk squinting at them and guessed what had transpired. He stepped forward. “Daoist Yi, my apologies. We left hastily earlier and did not explain the situation to Daoist Yan here. Please forgive us.”

He then introduced the man blocking the path. “This is Daoist Yan. Daoist Yi here is a wandering cultivator my senior brother and I happened to encounter. Though he is a rogue cultivator, he shares our path, so I invited him to attend the gathering. Please do not cause him trouble.”

A rogue cultivator?

Except for Zhou Cong and Liu Hui, who already knew Yi Fan’s identity, the others looked coldly upon him. Daoist Yan merely nodded and stopped paying attention to Yi Fan, instead bowing to Zhou Cong’s companions. “These must be the high-level cultivators from Dripping Water Cave?”

There were three of them—two men and one woman, all young, yet each possessed considerable cultivation, reaching the first level of the Dao Foundation. A mere glance from Yi Fan was enough to gauge their power.

Leading them was a slender man who smiled as he cupped his hands. “High-level cultivators is too grand a title. We three are merely disciples of Vice Cave Master Deng Zhengshan of Dripping Water Cave. I am Liu Yun, this is my third junior apprentice brother Wang Zhen, and this is our junior sister Luo Jing.”

Daoist Yan’s face changed. “So you are disciples of Master Deng. My apologies.”

Deng Zhengshan of Dripping Water Cave had reached the third level of the Refining Pill stage, only half a step away from ascending higher. Once, to cleanse his inner demons, he single-handedly wielded a sword to slay ghosts and demons across a thousand miles. His name carried weight in the cultivation world.

The disciples of such a powerful master were not to be trifled with. Daoist Yan’s former aloofness shifted to obsequiousness.

After introductions, Zhou Cong led the group deeper into the mountain. Yi Fan, holding the reins of the old donkey with Yan Gui following silently behind, trailed in their wake, remaining quiet and observing calmly.

Not far ahead lay a forest near a cliff, where an old Taoist temple stood, looking somewhat dilapidated. Yet now it was freshly renovated, spotless, with lanterns hanging outside. Several maidservants bustled about, attending guests.

Yi Fan handed the donkey to a servant and entered with the others.

Inside, it resembled neither a temple nor a place of cultivation but rather the mansion of a wealthy family. Yi Fan sighed inwardly. Though he was no stranger to the world—his own Shushan Sword Sect was a major force with countless masters—its Hangzhou Sword Villa was modest, without ornate decorations, no vermilion jade embellishments, and no servants attending.

Here, lanterns adorned the exterior, and inside, the ground was paved with cobblestones and decorated with fresh flowers. Beautiful maidservants moved busily amidst the splendor. Further in, wealth and opulence were overwhelming, with dozens of seats arranged on both sides, already mostly occupied.

As they entered, a clear, hearty laugh rang out: “Brother Liu, Brother Wang, Sister Luo, Brother Zhou has been awaiting your arrival for some time.”

Looking up, Yi Fan saw a young man in a long robe, wearing a square scarf, radiating elegance and charm like a worldly talent. It was Zhou Zijian who spoke.

Liu Yun and his junior siblings immediately cupped their hands. “Greetings, Senior Brother Zhou Zijian.”

Zhou Zijian waved them off with a smile. “No need for formalities. Please, take your seats.”

A maidservant stepped forward to escort the three to the front row, where they soon began chatting and laughing with others nearby.

“Who is this?” Zhou Zijian glanced curiously at Yi Fan and asked Zhou Cong, who had brought him in.

Zhou Cong explained at once and then introduced Yi Fan. “This is Senior Brother Zhou Zijian of the Bailian Sect on Red Rock Mountain.”

Yi Fan’s heart stirred. Zhuge Liuyun had once introduced him to many sects and forces in the cultivation world, including the Bailian Sect, a formidable power in the northwest, occupying an 800-li radius around Red Rock Mountain. Their divine arts and spells primarily employed fire, making them particularly fierce.

Reflecting on this, Yi Fan looked again at Zhou Zijian, sensing the surging spiritual energy radiating from him like a rising flame—intangible yet suffused with heat, as if ready to burst forth at any moment.

After hearing Zhou Cong’s introduction, Zhou Zijian nodded without changing expression and smiled. “Our meeting is fate. Since you walk the same path, please join us.”

He then summoned a maidservant and gave instructions. Soon, she brought a wooden stool and placed it outside the door. Zhou Zijian apologized earnestly. “I’m truly sorry. Many Daoists have arrived today, and all the seats are taken. I can only ask Daoist Yi to rest outside, but rest assured, the wine and refreshments are plentiful.”

Yi Fan was taken aback. He glanced at Zhou Zijian, then at Zhou Cong, whose face bore a teasing smirk. Shaking his head, Yi Fan realized that the disciples of these sects were not all as open-hearted and honorable as Zhuge Liuyun. They judged by sect and status, just like ordinary mortals. Such gatherings were truly meaningless.

Yet, to leave now would show weakness. Better to observe and discover the purpose of their meeting first. He nodded calmly and, carrying Yan Gui, stepped outside.

“Wait.”

Zhou Zijian suddenly called out, eyes flickering toward the little white fox on Yi Fan’s shoulder. Smiling, he said, “Daoist Yi, that little fox you carry is quite powerful, practicing the orthodox Daoist arts. I happen to need a maidservant. Would you consider parting with it?”

“Of course. Whatever you desire, just name it. If I can provide it, I won’t hesitate.”

Yi Fan smiled, glanced at the gathering crowd, and uninterested in further entanglements, turned to sit on the wooden stool outside, closing his eyes to rest. Yan Gui, sensing the place was no place for unruly behavior, stood quietly behind him, not daring to look around.

Seeing this, Zhou Zijian’s expression grew slightly pale. Zhou Cong said, “Brother Zhou, don’t be angry. These wild, wandering cultivators lack proper etiquette and are arrogant. Getting angry with them only lowers your own status.”

“Oh, you…” Zhou Zijian tapped Zhou Cong lightly, waved his hand, and returned to his seat.