Starting Cultivation During a Trip-Chapter 272 - 158: Double Nine Chongyang! The Woman Without a Primordial Spirit

Chapter 272: Chapter 158: Double Nine Chongyang! The Woman Without a Primordial Spirit

September Ninth, the Double Ninth Festival.

Within the Daoist Sect, upon this day, a grand ceremony must be held, using yellow earth and celestial dew, offerings to the Celestial Emperor, in reverence to the heavens above.

For the ninth day of the ninth month is regarded as the best time for "ascension and becoming immortal".

Nine is yang, and the double nine is double yang; on this day, pure qi rises, turbid qi descends—the higher the altitude, the more pure qi gathers, and one may ride the pure qi and ascend to the heavens.

Thus, it is said that the Double Ninth Festival bears the legend of ascending to immortality by climbing high.

Through ancient days till now, figures such as Emperor Zhenwu, Emperor Xuanyuan, the Dao Ancestor Zhang Daoling—all ascended in daylight, achieved immortality, on the Double Ninth Festival.

As the saying goes: Double Nine—when all immortals ascend to heaven.

Moreover, for today’s Daoist Sect, the Double Ninth holds a special meaning—it was on this very day over eighty years ago that the Universal Sacrifice and the Daoist Calamity took place.

Dang... Dang... Dang...

Zhongnan Mountain, Chongyang Palace.

The bell’s lingering echoes resound through the lands—a wisp of incense smoke rises, wandering like clouds, coiling in the long sky.

The chanting of Daoists rises slowly, melodious and far-reaching.

Atop the mountain, beneath ancient pine, an upright silhouette sits cross-legged upon a smooth, millstone-like boulder, gazing toward the distant Chongyang Palace.

"Junior brother, the ceremony has already begun. Will you not attend?"

At this moment, an aged voice came from behind; the middle-aged Daoist did not turn his head, his eyes lowered, his expression faintly melancholy.

"Senior brother, you know well I do not enjoy the bustle."

"The ceremony to honor Heaven and the spirits, from your lips, becomes mere bustle."

Within the moaning mountain wind, an elder approached, white-haired yet youthful-faced, his kindly gaze falling softly on the middle-aged Daoist, and he could not help but sigh deeply.

Ye Beichen—Zhongnan Mountain’s youngest Celestial Master, together with Zhenwu Mountain’s Liu Nanxu, hailed as the ’Two Heavens’, long counted among the greatest masters under heaven.

By rights, at such a realm, a single thought arises not, all dust has already fallen, no longer touched by this turbid Red Dust, one’s heart flowing like water, carried by waves, united with nature itself.

Yet every year upon the Double Ninth, he sits alone, watching clouds roll and unravel, staring at the rising and falling winds, his gaze forlorn, sitting so all through the night.

"Ten years—for a full decade—you still cannot let go. I fear calamity is not far ahead." The elder’s gaze sharpened amidst a head of white hair, showing a trace of concern.

Ye Beichen, still young, attained the rank of Celestial Master before fifty years of age; he is Zhongnan Mountain’s hope, destined one day to challenge the Realm of the Infinite.

Zhenwu Mountain produced Chu Chaoran, who attained Pure Yang Wuji; thus Zhenwu Mountain claimed a century of fortune, faintly holding the Daoist Sect’s reins.

If Zhongnan Mountain could also produce such a figure, its glory would be everlasting, the Way would flourish unending.

Yet within Ye Beichen’s heart lingers an obsession; its root is deep, its fruit bound to be bitter.

The Celestial Master’s obsessions bring forth frightening calamities.

"Supreme Forgetting Emotions is not truly emotionless; cultivating obsession, severing destiny—this too is a path of cultivation."

Ye Beichen muttered softly, his gaze deep as an abyss, ripples absent, as if entering an exceedingly mystical state.

The elder looked at him in silence.

"Ten years... Ten years ago, Double Ninth, the Dragon Tiger Red Moon—she, such a radiant soul, perished like incense and jade."

Suddenly, Ye Beichen spoke, an added trace of melancholy in his eyes.

"Li Linglong!"

The elder’s gaze sharpened slightly; at the mention of that name, a chilling murder intent rose within his cloudy eyes.

"Who would have thought, that little girl was in fact Human Xiao of Non-action? You invited the wolf to your door, let her stay on the mountain half a year, near destroyed the foundation left by the Ancestral Master."

Speaking so, the elder glanced at Ye Beichen, with a shade of resentment in his eyes.

"But she did not..."

"Only because the Ancestral Master’s protection prevented disaster," the elder said through gritted teeth.

"Why reproach her for what never came to pass? She’s gone now..." Ye Beichen whispered, his eyes growing ever more forlorn.

"That demoness was indeed your great calamity. Thankfully, she is gone," the elder said grimly.

"Thankfully!?"

Rumble... Rumble...

A wild wind surged around Ye Beichen, as though the heavens themselves mourned, scattering drifting clouds from the empty valley before him.

"That man could not protect her... Divine Demon Holy Embryo, a true mockery," Ye Beichen’s eyes flashed with an indifferent light.

At these words, the elder’s face twitched slightly, looking at Ye Beichen with hidden meaning.

"The Grand Spirit King was truly remarkable, feigned death for ten years—all to escape calamity... This time, White Crane Temple had him surrounded at Ailao Mountain, thought to be once and for all, yet lost men and forces instead..." The elder’s voice grew lower and lower.

This news, half a month ago, had already spread across the famed peaks of the Ten Great Daoist Sects, and of course, reached Ye Beichen’s ears.

Thus, upon this special day, the elder had come, fearing that he...

"I will not descend the mountain." Ye Beichen, as if reading the elder’s mind, merely shook his head.

"That man has escaped his fifth ’Great Night’ calamity, his Divine Techniques boundless, his Sacred Embryo formed—I am no match for him."

Ye Beichen’s voice was calm as stagnant water; his emotions tangled, his memories chaotic, yet now more silent and terrible than any other time.

Those eyes seemed to pierce cloud-shrouded mountains, perceiving the illusion and truth of the mortal world.

"Grand Spirit King—having feigned death for ten years, outlasted his great calamity—I fear peace will elude the world henceforth."

The elder’s aged face held a look of deep concern.

The world will not know peace; ten years ago, Zhang Lingzong reopened Dragon Tiger Mountain and withdrew unscathed—the treasures brought from the mountain remain missing to this day.