The two guests wore blue-and-white Daoist robes, typical of cultivators. One appeared to be in his forties, with a short black beard and a rather unapproachable face. The other was lean and scholarly-looking, no older than thirty—these were Chen Qian, the eldest disciple, and Chang Jinxin, the third disciple, under the Lingxin Sect's leader, Yue Songting.
Upon hearing their origins, Gu Jin hastily ushered them into the hall for tea. Even though the Lingxin Sect was only a second-rate faction in the cultivation world, to the Gu family, they were an unattainable existence.
Once seated as host and guests, with tea served, Gu Jin cautiously probed, "What brings two esteemed cultivators to this mundane place?"
Chen Qian cut straight to the point. "Does your household have a child named Gu Pinglin?"
Gu Jin was taken aback. "Indeed, he is my son. Might I ask why you seek him? Has he caused trouble?"
Chang Jinxin smiled beside him. "This matter was personally instructed by our sect leader. Patriarch Gu, why not invite your son to meet us?"
The sect leader? Gu Jin's mind raced. He quickly ordered a servant, "Go fetch Little Ninth—and have Ping'an and the others come greet our honored guests. Hurry!"
The servant understood the hint and first notified Gu Ping'an and the others before searching for Gu Pinglin. Yet halfway there, he spotted Gu Pinglin leisurely walking toward them.
Today's events were within Gu Pinglin's expectations. He had risen early, prepared everything, and sealed the vial of Spirit Stone Milk with a mixture of cow dung, dog blood, and century-old grave soil—along with other essentials—tucking them all into his robes. Such rare treasures naturally emitted spiritual energy, detectable by high-level cultivators. Though unlikely to encounter one, caution never hurt.
By the time Gu Pinglin entered the hall, Gu Ping'an and the others were already present. The moment he saw the two guests, warmth surged in his chest, and he quickened his steps.
Senior Brother Chen Qian. Third Senior Brother Chang Jinxin.
Chang Jinxin was amiable and easygoing, rarely meddling in affairs. As for Chen Qian—in his past life, after Gu Pinglin joined the Lingxin Sect, Chen Qian had given him endless trouble. Later, when their master passed the sect leadership to Gu Pinglin, Chen Qian had been openly dissatisfied, frequently challenging him in public. Yet when Gu Pinglin's cultivation was crippled and the four great sects came to pressure them, it was Chen Qian who stood in front, buying time for Gu Pinglin to escape. Afterward, when the Lingxin Sect's spiritual veins were destroyed and its foundation ruined, Chen Qian had suffered severe injuries.
Though Gu Pinglin had long known of Chen Qian's loyalty to the sect, he hadn't expected such courage. Meeting him again in this life filled him with emotion.
Chen Qian and Chang Jinxin had come on their master's orders to take Gu Pinglin away. Unbeknownst to them, Gu Jin had ulterior motives and summoned all his sons. Just as Chen Qian was growing impatient, Gu Pinglin entered—and his eyes lit up.
"Our master's insight is truly remarkable," Chang Jinxin praised, beckoning Gu Pinglin. "You must be Gu Pinglin? Come here."
Gu Pinglin, already familiar with him, approached.
Chang Jinxin couldn't help but chuckle at his composed demeanor despite his youth. "Such a serious little face. Let's hope you don't end up like Senior Brother here."
Teased, Chen Qian glared and stood. "Now that we've found him, let's go."
Gu Jin, guessing their intent, was desperately promoting his other sons. Flustered, he rose. "Esteemed cultivators, surely you must—"
"We should at least ask the child's opinion," Chang Jinxin interjected, shaking his head at his senior brother's abruptness. He briefly explained to Gu Jin.
"This is his good fortune. Why wouldn't he agree?" Chen Qian turned to Gu Pinglin. "Boy, are you coming or not?"
Gu Pinglin nodded. "I'm coming."
Chang Jinxin laughed. "Do you even know who we are? What if we sell you off?"
Meeting his jest, Gu Pinglin smiled. "I've heard. You're cultivators from the Lingxin Sect."
Chang Jinxin was momentarily speechless.
"See? He knows," Chen Qian said, clapping Gu Pinglin on the back approvingly. "Good lad. Let's go."
Chang Jinxin sighed. "No matter how rushed, we should at least let him pack—"
Chen Qian waved dismissively. "Worldly possessions are unnecessary!"
In his past life, Chen Qian had been just as abrupt, so Gu Pinglin had prepared in advance, carrying the Spirit Stone Milk on him. Resigned, Chang Jinxin stood and bid farewell to Gu Jin.
Greatly disappointed, Gu Jin feigned reluctance for his other sons' benefit. "Our father-son bond runs deep. Little Ninth has never left home—might you stay a few days to ease the transition…?"
"Bond?" Chen Qian scoffed, eyeing Gu Pinglin's shabby clothes—hardly better than a servant's.
The sarcasm stung. Gu Jin flushed but pressed on. "He is my child, after all. To leave so suddenly—"
Before he could finish, Chen Qian tossed something over. Gu Jin caught it reflexively and gasped. "Marrow-Cleansing Pills?"
After three refinements of Qi, cultivators underwent marrow-cleansing to form external cores. These pills greatly aided the process. While not rare in major sects, they were treasures to the Gu family. Overjoyed, Gu Jin swiftly changed his tune. "Joining your esteemed sect is my son's fortune. I merely worry—having never left home, he may act improperly. I must trouble you both to guide and discipline him."
After this perfunctory show of concern, he turned to Gu Pinglin, stern. "Apply yourself diligently. Remember—you are a member of the Gu family."
Chen Qian, already impatient, strode out. Chang Jinxin hastily bowed to Gu Jin and led Gu Pinglin after him.
The moment they stepped outside, Gu Pingsheng's voice erupted inside. "That servant's brat gets to join a major sect, but we can't?!"
"Silence!" Gu Jin snapped.
…
Hearing the commotion behind them, Chang Jinxin shook his head and gently patted Gu Pinglin's head.
Gu Pinglin, unbothered, understood it as comfort and smiled calmly without looking back.
Chen Qian approved. "On the path of cultivation, worldly matters should not weigh on the heart."
Chang Jinxin nodded. "Senior Brother is right. With your fine aptitude, dedicated cultivation will surely lead to great achievements."
"Aptitude means little," Chen Qian suddenly turned stern. "Once you enter the sect, you'll see—there are always greater heights."
The Lingxin Sect wasn't renowned, making talented disciples rare. In Gu Pinglin's past life, he had been the most gifted among the new recruits. Chen Qian's words were deliberate, and Gu Pinglin recognized the goodwill behind them. "Understood."
Chen Qian was surprised by his lack of resentment but, satisfied, said no more.
At the village entrance, two golden eagles—spirit beasts tamed by the Lingxin Sect—paced leisurely. Each stood taller than a man, their glossy feathers drawing a crowd. The eagles ignored ordinary folk but bowed their heads upon seeing Chen Qian and Chang Jinxin. Chen Qian mounted one, while Chang Jinxin and Gu Pinglin shared the other. With a flap of their mighty wings, the eagles lifted the trio into the sky.
Traveling by day and resting at inns by night, Chang Jinxin thoughtfully fed Gu Pinglin pills to stave off hunger. Days passed without a single complaint or question from Gu Pinglin, earning the duo's silent admiration. They had been sent to recruit new disciples, and after securing Gu Pinglin, they still needed to collect several dozen more.
Shortly after setting out one morning, they encountered a group of cultivators riding spirit cranes.
Spirit cranes were premium mounts—swift, enduring, and exuding an immortal aura. Most sects were lucky to own one or two, yet this group had over a dozen—a lavish display.
"The Turtle Sect again," Chen Qian muttered, steering clear.
The Profound Darkness Sect was a top-tier faction, its disciples notoriously arrogant, looking down on second-rate sects like the Lingxin Sect. Yet the two sects were neighbors, forcing Lingxin disciples to endure much unwarranted disdain.
Chang Jinxin also wanted to avoid trouble, but a female cultivator in the group suddenly called out, "Are those Lingxin Sect juniors over there?"
The woman appeared to be in her twenties—bright-eyed, with a lively oval face. She was Yan Feixiu, a direct disciple under the Profound Darkness Sect's leader, Zhan Renjie. A century into her cultivation, she had formed an external core and reached the eighth level of Qi Transformation—a formidable figure.
Gu Pinglin recognized her. By now, Duan Qingming should have joined the Profound Darkness Sect with his aunt…
Though the Profound Darkness Sect was detestable, Yan Feixiu was decent—and seemed to have a soft spot for Chen Qian. Chang Jinxin quickly clasped his hands in greeting. "Senior Sister Yan."
Chen Qian turned his face away, pretending not to see.
Yan Feixiu smiled at Chang Jinxin. "Yesterday, I met your Junior Brother Ren. He was leading a group of children back to the Lingxin Sect. I assume you're also out recruiting?"
So the new disciples had already been collected. Chang Jinxin expressed gratitude. "Thanks to Senior Sister's notice, we've been spared a futile trip." With a mischievous glance at Chen Qian, he added, "Right, Senior Brother?"
Yan Feixiu laughed. "You little rascal, playing tricks on me? Just you wait!"
"Junior Sister, quit dawdling!" someone ahead snapped.
Chen Qian snorted.
Yan Feixiu pressed her lips together, nodded apologetically to Chang Jinxin, and rejoined her group.
The two sects crossed paths often. Chen Qian and Chang Jinxin were somewhat famous—how could the other side not recognize them? This was deliberate provocation. Though unjustly slighted, Chen Qian wasn't reckless enough to pick a fight. His mood remained sour, but with the recruits already collected, they turned back toward their sect.
Seven or eight days later, a vast mountain range came into view.
Lush peaks embraced emerald forests, waterfalls veiled in clouds—the spiritual energy here was rich and vibrant. Two massive branches extended like coiling dragons, their slopes dotted with countless buildings: the Profound Darkness Sect's territory.
This was the famed Hidden Sun Mountain Range, one of the eight great spiritual mountains, blessed with countless spiritual veins. Though the Profound Darkness Sect occupied the two main branches, smaller offshoots housed many second- and third-rate sects, benefiting from the residual energy. The Lingxin Sect resided on one such branch, fortunate to have a minor spiritual vein beneath it.
The eagles descended, landing outside the mountain gates. Most sects required disciples to enter on foot as a sign of respect. Dismounting, the trio watched the eagles fly off to hunt.
Chang Jinxin carried Gu Pinglin up the mountain with light steps. Even on this minor branch, exotic flowers and herbs thrived, creating a serene, picturesque environment. Both Chen Qian and Chang Jinxin had reached Qi Transformation, allowing them to tread on leaves, covering several meters in a single stride. In less time than it took to drink tea, they reached the main gate halfway up the mountain.
A broad platform lay outside. Setting Gu Pinglin down, Chang Jinxin nudged him forward. "You have many companions inside. Go meet them."
Gu Pinglin already knew who awaited him. He nodded.
Before him, a wide stone staircase led to towering gates, the plaque above bearing four familiar characters: Lingxin's Path to the Dao. It felt as though no time had passed at all.
In this life, he would begin his cultivation journey here anew.
Resolutely discarding old memories, Gu Pinglin took a deep breath and followed the two up the steps. The main gate was usually closed. Two gatekeeping disciples hurried over to bow upon recognizing Chen Qian and Chang Jinxin. The trio entered through side doors.
Beyond the screen wall in the entrance hall, the view opened up.
The majestic Lingxin Hall stood opposite, flanked by a vast square capable of holding thousands. Rows of stone meditation mats were neatly arranged in front, some already occupied by cultivators. Further back, several dozen youths in varied attire stood chatting excitedly—the Lingxin Sect's newest disciples.
Gu Pinglin froze, his gaze locking onto one vaguely familiar figure. His wide eyes betrayed shock.
Taller than two years ago, the youth stood out among his peers like a crane among chickens, even in plain robes. He was laughing with a group of boys and girls, his profile slightly tilted so that the setting sun gilded his curved lips, lending his gentle, amiable demeanor a warm glow.
Only his straight, elegant nose cast a cool, sharp shadow in the sunlight.