The Immortal Venerable Used Me and Then Abandoned Me - Chapter 1

A vast expanse of auspicious clouds surged down from the summit of the Cangshan sea of clouds. White cranes cleared the path, and spiritual birds sang in harmony. Atop the clouds stood a single, silver-white figure.

Behind that figure were four elders and fifty disciples. Their azure-colored brocade robes were uniformly adorned with a “Double Fish” pattern on the back, with the character “Lin” (临) embroidered in the center.

The man standing at the very front was partially obscured by the swirling mist. One could only sense that he was as majestic and distant as a snow-capped mountain, descending from a thousand miles away, making people instinctively want to bow in worship.

“Quick, look! It’s the people from the Linyuan Immortal Sect!”

“Is the one standing at the front the Exalted Immortal Huai Wang?”

“With such a celestial bearing, who else could it be but Immortal Huai Wang!”

In Luqi City far below, both mortals and cultivators alike looked up at the sky, filled with an instinctive sense of awe and longing.

Jian Zhu stood in the crowd wearing a veiled hat. The noisy discussions around him continued:

“Who is the Linyuan Sect welcoming that even the Immortal has come out of seclusion?”

“Must be some important figure.”

“Could it be the Immortal’s Daoist partner?”

Jian Zhu: “…” Like hell it is.

Before the crowd could speculate further, a deep and echoing chime of a bell rang out from the horizon. Two white deer pulled a sandalwood carriage from the distance, coming to a halt before the Linyuan Sect party.

The carriage curtain was lifted, and both sides exchanged salutations. Then, the entire group departed together toward the Linyuan Sect.

In the blink of an eye, they vanished into the horizon, yet the colorful clouds drawn out by Immortal Huai Wang’s appearance lingered over Luqi City for a long time.

“Immortals, true immortals…” The mortals in the city bowed toward the direction of the Linyuan Sect, while the merchants turned back to their shops to greet customers. The Linyuan Sect’s disciple recruitment was in two days, and Luqi City was currently teeming with travelers and bustling with excitement.

Jian Zhu withdrew his gaze and found a small tea stall. An enthusiastic waiter came over with a menu, but having little appetite, Jian Zhu only ordered a pot of clear tea.

The waiter’s face instantly soured. He tossed his towel over his shoulder and marched back to the stove. Moments later, the tea was served; the cup hit the table with a loud thud, splashing a few drops of hot water.

Jian Zhu glanced at it and calmly flicked his sleeve.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from nearby, “Hey, waiter, what’s with the attitude? You looking down on people based on what they order?”

Jian Zhu turned and saw a young man at the neighboring table stand up. He walked straight over, slapped down a few pieces of silver, and barked at the embarrassed waiter, “Bring a plate of beef and some peanuts. I’m treating my friend!”

The waiter took the money and hurriedly bowed and nodded.

Once the waiter left, the youth sat down next to Jian Zhu with practiced familiarity. “Don’t mind those mercenary types. I hate people who suck up to the high and mighty while stepping on the lowly!”

The disgust on the youth’s face seemed genuine. Jian Zhu figured this was a man with a story. “Thanks for the help.”

Through their back-and-forth, the two got to know each other. Jian Zhu learned the youth was named Jiang Chaoyun, a member of a branch family of the Yan Capital’s Jiang Clan. The other young people with him were also branch members from various families; they had formed a group to participate in the Linyuan Sect’s disciple recruitment.

Jiang Chaoyun said, “The direct descendants of the clan have extraordinary natural talent. Couple that with abundant resources, and their aptitude is far higher than ours. We’ve been discriminated against since we were children; if we want to change our destiny, our only choice is to seek a master.”

Jian Zhu picked up his teacup and clinked it against the other’s. “Inspiring.”

Having finished his tea, Jiang Chaoyun opened the floodgates of conversation. “By the way, who do you all think that ‘Great One’ the Linyuan Sect was welcoming just now could be?”

A companion beside him chimed in, “Even the Immortal himself came down the mountain. It’s either a heavyweight mogul or…”

“Or what?”

“The Immortal’s Daoist partner, obviously.”

The group clapped and marveled in unison. “Makes sense, makes sense!”

Jian Zhu nearly choked on a mouthful of tea. What kind of logic is that? Did their marriage contract suddenly manifest across the sky? Or did the Linyuan Sect march out with gongs and trumpets for ten thousand miles?

“I don’t think so,” Jiang Chaoyun suddenly spoke up.

Jian Zhu’s heart settled slightly: He has good taste.

Jiang Chaoyun slapped the table. “The Immortal has clearly mastered the Way of Heartless Perfection!”

Jian Zhu: “…”

“Chaoyun, don’t talk nonsense,” a companion said. “For a powerhouse at the Immortal’s level, marriage would be a major event throughout the Three Realms.”

Jiang Chaoyun sighed. “Well, I’ve only heard rumors. Immortal Huai Wang went down to the mortal realm for his tribulation over a decade ago. He recently returned as the world’s number one Great Transcendence cultivator, but he seems to have lost his memories. He doesn’t remember that period in the mortal world at all.”

Jian Zhu spoke up nonchalantly, “Maybe he went through a peerless romance.”

Jiang Chaoyun was startled by his bold words. “Fellow Daoist, you truly are the type to remain silent only to stun everyone with a single word.”

He pondered it for two seconds and decided it made sense. “It’s possible. He tasted the bitterness of the mortal world, fell under the spell of love, but alas—the Great Dao was before him, so he had to sever those emotional ties.”

Jian Zhu: “…”

Jian Zhu suggested, “If you want to change your destiny, you could also consider becoming a storyteller.”

That mouth of his—it’s a waste not to use it to stir up trouble in the Three Realms.

“You flatter me,” Jiang Chaoyun accepted the praise and continued, “Anyway, the inner disciples of the Linyuan Sect all say that since the Immortal has such a cold, desireless appearance, he must have achieved the Way of Heartless Perfection.”

Jian Zhu didn’t reply further. His fair fingers tapped rhythmically against his knee.

The Way of Heartless Perfection (Wuqing Dao)—as the name suggests, it means dedicating one’s heart solely to the Dao and severing all worldly ties. Whether one is a human, ghost, or demon cultivator, and regardless of the technique, as long as the heart is free of the seven emotions, one can enter this path in a single thought.

He still remembered the night before the tribulation. At midnight, black clouds pressed down upon the mountains. A massive vortex in the center of the sky churned the air for ten million miles, forming a pitch-black hole that looked like a leak in the heavens.

Wild winds swept in from all directions, whipping their hems. Their azure and silver robes became entangled.

Huai Wang looked at him, his eyes devoid of frost, filled only with surging lava. Unstoppable spiritual energy overflowed from Huai Wang’s body, drawing the Nine Heavenly Lightning Tribulations closer step by step. “Wait for me.”

Just as Jian Zhu’s heart was surging with emotion, Huai Wang suddenly grasped his hands and looked into his eyes.

For some reason, an ominous premonition flickered in Jian Zhu’s mind.

Huai Wang parted his lips. “In this life, you are my only Daoist partner. Though disaster is imminent, I vow never to part from you in life or death. If I break this vow, may lightning strike me!”

That word—strike—was crisp and rang out with powerful conviction.

Jian Zhu instantly turned pale with fright. “What kind of nonsense are you saying!” Isn’t he about to get hit by lightning anyway?

Before the words had even left his mouth, the first bolt of heavenly lightning crashed down with a deafening BOOM—Jian Zhu only had time to throw out a protective talisman before he was sent flying by the shockwave.

…

“Fellow Daoist? Fellow Daoist?” Jiang Chaoyun’s voice pulled his thoughts back to reality. “Why did you stop talking?”

Jian Zhu composed himself. “I was just stunned by the Immortal’s deeds.”

Especially that mouth of his; I wonder if it was consecrated by the Zen Sect.

Jiang Chaoyun was understanding. “The Immortal has many legendary deeds. Your information is just too limited. If I get the chance, I’ll tell you more to deepen your understanding of him.”

Jian Zhu thought to himself: Oh, I understand him quite well. Deeply and thoroughly. But he kept the thought to himself and thanked the man. “That would be wonderful.”

After chatting for a while, the sun began to set. The auspicious clouds vanished, and the sky turned a dim amber.

Jian Zhu bid them farewell, but Jiang Chaoyun grabbed him. “Wait, Fellow Daoist Jian Zhu, are you also here for the disciple recruitment? Why don’t we go together the day after tomorrow?”

Jian Zhu shook his head. “I’m here for post-disaster reconstruction.”

“…?”

After Huai Wang’s tribulation, he had vanished. The Daoist partnership bond they had formed showed no reaction, as if it had never existed. After asking around, Jian Zhu finally learned that Huai Wang had returned to the Linyuan Sect and lost his memories of the mortal world.

If it were fake amnesia, there must be a hidden reason; if it were real, he would have to find a way to get the man’s memories back.

Jiang Chaoyun was impressed despite not understanding. “Then I wish you success in your endeavor.”

Jian Zhu stood up. “I’ll take those kind words.”

Within a few steps, his azure robes turned into a nearby alley. The white veil of his hat fluttered, briefly revealing a silver hairband tied into his hair.

Jiang Chaoyun and the others watched him disappear. One of them suddenly said, “Hey, there’s a lantern festival at the north riverbank tomorrow night. Why don’t we invite Fellow Daoist Jian Zhu?”

“Right!” Jiang Chaoyun slapped his forehead and chased after him. “I’ll go ask!”

He wove through the bustling crowd and reached the alley entrance in a few strides. Jiang Chaoyun turned and looked inside. “Fellow Daoist Jian Zhu—”

The long alley was deep and shadowed, with only a few scattered pedestrians. Jiang Chaoyun looked all the way to the end, but the azure figure that had just turned the corner was nowhere to be seen.

“Strange. Where did he go?”

________________________________________

Midnight. The night was as thick as ink.

Jian Zhu stood at the foot of the Linyuan Sect gates, dressed in black with a tight waist and narrow sleeves, his face covered by a veil.

The surroundings were silent, save for the layers of mountain-protecting arrays encircling the sect. A few disciples on night patrol were scattered between the front halls. A banner was even stretched across the gate: [Trespassers will be executed by the array.]

Jian Zhu slowly shifted his gaze. He wasn’t “trespassing.” How could something between husbands be called trespassing? This was called a “night raid”—it was romantic flair.

A gust of wind rose. He gathered his breath, focused his mind, and leaped forward. The array, capable of withstanding the combined attack of ten thousand men, silently opened a small gap. As soon as he slipped inside, it snapped shut again.

In a single breath, Jian Zhu had already crossed the entire front mountain.

In just a single breath, Jian Zhu swept across the entire front range of the mountain.

Below him, the “Six Halls and Eight Courtyards” were arranged in a precise grid, featuring sentry posts every three miles and talisman arrays at every corner. Further back stood the primary peaks belonging to the various Elders and Perfected Ones; beyond those overlapping ridges lay Cang Mountain.

The closer he drew to the summit, the more he could feel the immense power of the spiritual pulse beneath him. Simultaneously, a biting chill rushed toward him, the wind cutting like a blade.

Back then, they had lived on Jian Mountain. While Jian Mountain was a bit remote, it was at least scenic and lush, perfect for whispering sweet nothings and doing “good deeds.” It was nothing like the desolate cold of Cang Mountain, which was icy enough to freeze away all seven emotions and six sensory desires.

Flying toward the peak-protecting array, he could already see the vigorous parasol tree forest on the mountain. A single courtyard stood there, its lanterns alight.

A comment from earlier that day suddenly flashed through his mind: “Could it be the Immortal Lord’s cultivation partner?”

Jian Zhu gazed at the courtyard for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Huai Wang; he simply didn’t like the outside world linking Huai Wang to anyone else.

Taking a small breath to steady his emotions, the silver hairband behind him began to shimmer. Profound laws of cultivation circulated within it. This was a gift Huai Wang had given him in the past, calling it a “pass” that would allow him to act as he pleased within the Linyuan Sect.

The man might have run off with amnesia, but at least he had been reliable before his memory wiped.

Jian Zhu stepped into the array.

Boom! Without warning, fierce gusts of wind struck from all directions. The “Heaven and Earth Lock Array” descended layer by layer, triggering the arrays of the two nearest primary peaks in a chain reaction.

Jian Zhu: “…?”

For a fleeting second, he was reminded of those husbands in folk stories who, after achieving fame and fortune, abandoned their wives and children—and even changed the locks on the family mansion.

The thought vanished as quickly as it came. Jian Zhu reacted with lightning speed, instinctively dodging, yet a beam from the Cang Mountain array still grazed his waist at a tricky angle, leaving a wound. He hissed, drawing in a sharp breath of cold air. “Sss…!”

A stern shout thundered from the sky: “Who goes there—!?”

With the primary peak’s array triggered, the Linyuan Sect’s Sixth Elder, the Perfected One Hui Yu, came flying out. A surging aura swept forth, but—clink—an attack from a Spirit Severing stage cultivator was casually blocked.

As the commotion grew and rows of lights flickered on below, Jian Zhu withdrew his hand. In such a public setting, it was not the time for a reunion.

He turned and broke through the encirclement, leaving Perfected One Hui Yu far behind. In an instant, he reached the sect’s main gate.

Suddenly, a surge of sword intent tore through the air from behind!

This sword intent was hauntingly familiar—sharp as if wrapped in frost, its speed and power on a completely different level compared to Hui Yu. Just as the intent was about to pierce his back, the hairband behind him suddenly activated its Daoist charms, swallowing the sword intent whole.

Jian Zhu glanced back through the thick darkness of the night.

Beyond those layers of mountain peaks, a towering figure emerged from Cang Mountain.

Carrying a heaven-shaking sword intent, he was coming straight for him.