Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 396 No Spiritual Light

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Nothing happened along the way.

This "nothing happening" is itself a strange thing.

Wei Yiran had studied history since childhood and knew that the phrase "no trouble along the way" appeared as rarely as "favorable weather" or "national peace and prosperity" in travel logs. Most of the time, people only recorded the moments when something happened, such as bandits, monsters, bridges destroyed by torrential rain, or the sudden death of a companion.

Nothing worth remembering is worthwhile.

But it was precisely this unremarkable incident that led her to see the gate of Qingyang Valley at dusk the following day.

The carriage stopped at the end of the official road.

Ahead lay a long flight of steps, winding its way into the twilight-shrouded forest. Two stone-carved beasts stood on either side of the steps, their heads menacing, staring down at every approacher. The mountain gate itself was not imposing, even somewhat simple, consisting of only two rough stone pillars supporting an equally rough stone beam.

Three characters are engraved on the beam.

Qingyang Valley.

Wei Yiran stood at the foot of the mountain gate, looking up at the three characters.

The carving is deep, penetrating three inches into the stone. But it's not the depth of being carved by a knife or axe; rather, it's the depth of being "written" into the stone by some force.

There are no signs of cracking at the edges of the strokes, only an indescribable smoothness, like water seeping into parched land, natural and unstoppable.

She stared at it for a long time.

Zhou Da was one step behind her.

"Madam..."

Wei still didn't turn around.

She simply tightened the jade ring tied with a red string on her wrist, then lifted her skirt and stepped onto the stone steps.

Wei Yiran continued walking uphill step by step. General Zhou tied his carriage to a tree at the foot of the mountain and followed behind, his heavy steps treading on the stone steps, each step seeming to be a question.

No one came to guide them.

There were no celestial children sweeping the mountain gate as in legend, no disciples checking the visiting cards, and certainly no "if you are sincere, someone will come to welcome you" as my grandfather said in his letter.

The mountain gate of Qingyang Valley remained silently open.

Like a stone statue that can neither close its eyes nor speak.

Wei still didn't stop.

The stone steps were long, and Zhou Da's breathing gradually became heavy. He had old injuries, and walking on such a mountain path was already strenuous, but he gritted his teeth and followed behind without uttering a sound.

Wei Yiran slowed her pace a bit.

"Uncle Zhou, would you like to rest?"

"No, no need..." Zhou Da gasped, "Madam, just go, this old servant can keep up."

Wei Yiran did not try to persuade him further.

She knew Zhou Da's temperament. Anyone who had served in the Western Army would never admit defeat when it came to "keeping up".

Another incense stick's time passed.

The stone steps finally came to an end.

Before us lay a wide, flat area, roughly three or four acres in size, paved with smooth stones. At the far end of the flat area, the outline of a three-tiered palace complex could be seen, its eaves slightly upturned, like the wings of a bird about to take flight.

A person was standing in front of the palace.

The man was wearing a Taoist robe, standing with his hands behind his back, looking in the direction they came from.

Wei Yiran stopped a few feet in front of him.

She did not speak immediately, but lowered her eyelashes, slightly bent her knees, and performed a proper curtsy.

"Wei Yiran, granddaughter of Wei Shanyue, commander of the Western Army of the Great Qian Dynasty, came to Qingyang Valley to learn martial arts on her grandfather's orders."

The person did not move.

He didn't say anything.

He stood there, his gaze falling from above, landing on Wei Yiran's drooping head and on her slightly bowed figure.

Wei maintained the posture of bowing.

Take a breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

The person finally moved.

He took two steps forward and came to stand in front of Wei Yiran.

"Wei Shuai's granddaughter."

His voice was rough, with an uncomfortable stickiness.

"Raise your head."

Wei Yiran looked up as instructed.

The man appeared to be in his forties, with a thin face, three long wisps of beard on his chin, and his head slightly tilted back.

He just stared at Wei Yiran like that.

His gaze swept across her eyebrows and eyes, past the bridge of her nose, and landed on her still somewhat childish face, before slowly moving upwards to settle on the top of her head.

"There's no inspiration."

He said.

These four words are plain and simple, like saying "The sky is gloomy today" or "The fog in the mountains is quite heavy".

Wei Yiran's fingers, which were hanging in her sleeve, curled up slightly.

Just for a moment.

The next moment, she loosened her fingers and straightened her back even more.

"I know I am dull-witted," she said, her voice still steady. "But my grandfather said that when Qingyang Valley accepts disciples, he values ​​character first, and then aptitude second. I am willing to make up for my shortcomings with diligence, and I humbly beg the Immortal Master for mercy."

The man smiled.

The smile was brief, almost imperceptible. It was just a slight curve at the corners of the mouth, which then disappeared again.

"General Wei certainly knows how to talk."

He turned around and walked towards the palace.

"Keep up."

Wei Yiran lifted her skirt and followed behind him.

Just as Zhou Da was about to take a step, the man waved his hand without turning his head.

"Driver, go back."

Zhou Da stopped in his tracks.

He looked at Wei Yiran.

Wei still didn't turn around.

She simply tightened the jade ring tied with a red string on her wrist a little more, and then continued walking forward.

………………

The three-tiered halls appear older than they do from a distance.

The paint on the eaves had long since peeled off, revealing the grayish-white wooden frame beneath. Several deep cracks ran along the pillars, as if they had been cleaved by a knife or axe, or perhaps struck by something. The edges of the stone steps were worn rounded, marks left by years of footsteps.

Wei Yiran followed that person through the first palace.

There were no statues of gods enshrined inside the hall, only a few rows of prayer cushions and a few long tables piled with open scrolls. In the dim light of the oil lamps, several young disciples were bent over copying something. When they heard footsteps, they only glanced up before continuing to write.

The man did not stop.

They walked along the path behind the palace, around a corridor, and came to a secluded courtyard.

The courtyard is not large, with three tiled houses arranged in a square shape.

The man pushed open the door to the east wing.

"You'll be living here from now on."

Wei Yiran stood outside the threshold and glanced inside.

The room was small, containing a couch, a table, and a stool. A straw mat was laid on the couch, its surface already yellowed. An oil lamp sat on the table, the oil almost completely gone.

"Tomorrow at dawn, a disciple will come to take you to the Spirit Examination Hall," the man said. "After your spiritual root is examined, your fate will be decided."

Wei Yiran turned around and bowed again.

"Thank you, Immortal Master. May I ask your honorable title?"

The man had already entered the courtyard.

He paused, but didn't turn around.

"Outer Sect Steward, Zhou Su."

As soon as Zhou Su finished speaking, he turned to leave.

Wei Yiran stood still, head slightly bowed, maintaining a respectful farewell posture. Her gaze fell on the yellowed straw mat, but she was still silently memorizing the name of the person she had just seen.

Zhou Su, outer sect steward.

Footsteps could be heard in the courtyard.

It wasn't the direction Zhou Su had left in, but rather the direction of a newcomer from outside the courtyard. His footsteps were hurried, crackling on the ground, as if he were in a rush.

"Deacon Zhou!"

Zhou Su stopped in his tracks.

Wei Yiran slightly raised her eyes and looked out through the half-open door. A young disciple wearing a gray short robe was rushing into the courtyard, his face showing some anxiety and his forehead covered with fine beads of sweat.

"What's the rush?" Zhou Su's voice remained calm, but there was a hint of impatience in it.

The disciple glanced towards the east wing of the courtyard and lowered his voice, "Steward Zhou, the Valley Master said..."

The voice was too low for Wei to hear clearly.

But Zhou Su's expression changed.

The change was extremely subtle; only the eyebrows twitched slightly and the jaw tightened a little.

But Wei Yiran grew up in the general's mansion and had seen too many people put on a brave face in front of her grandfather, while their backs were actually soaked with cold sweat. She knew what that expression looked like.

That's the expression on someone's face when they hear bad news.

"...We must collect them all no matter what?" Zhou Su's voice lowered.

The disciple nodded, then added something else.

Zhou Su remained silent for a long time.

After a while, on a tree in the courtyard, an autumn cicada, unable to bear the loneliness, let out two hoarse chirps.

"But what about the Cloud Hidden Sect..."

When Zhou Su uttered those three words, his voice was even lower. But the courtyard was too quiet, and the three words still drifted intermittently through the crack in the east wing door.

Wei Yiran's eyelashes trembled slightly.

Yunyin Sect.

She had never heard of that name before.

In her letters to her, her grandfather mentioned several immortal sects on the southeastern border of the Great Qian Dynasty: Qingyang Valley, Hehuan Sect, Zidian Sect, and several smaller sects. But he didn't mention Yunyin Sect.

Is it a newly established sect? Or a small, unknown sect hidden deep in the mountains?

But the one who could make the deacon of Qingyang Valley show such an expression... probably isn't some minor sect, right?

The disciple spoke a few more words, this time in an even lower voice.

Zhou Su's back stiffened for a moment.

It was just a fleeting moment.

The next moment, he waved his hand, his voice returning to its usual calm: "Understood. Go back to Zhanggu and tell him that Zhou Su has obeyed the order."

The disciple bowed, turned and quickly left.

Zhou Su stood there, gazing in the direction where the disciple had disappeared, remaining motionless for a long time.

Wei Yiran stood inside the door, looking at the figure through the crack of the half-open door.

She recalled the fleeting smile on the man's lips when he said "there's no inspiration" outside the mountain gate. There was no mockery, no disappointment, not even any emotion in that smile; it was as if he were looking at an unused object, looking at it and then putting it down.

But now, that "unused object" is watching his back.

Looking at his back, which froze at the mention of the three words "Yunyin Sect".

Wei Yiran lowered her eyelashes.

She turned around and walked towards the wooden couch covered with yellowed straw mats.

There was only a straw mat and a thin quilt on the couch. She reached out and pressed it down; under the straw mat was a hard wooden board.

She sat down.

Outside, Zhou Su's footsteps finally sounded and gradually faded away.

The courtyard returned to silence.

Wei Yiran sat in the dimly lit room, staring at the oil lamp on the table, which was now just a stub.

Yunyin Sect.

She silently repeated those three words in her mind.

I don't know why, but I remembered it just from hearing it.

………………

As night deepened, the lights in the Lingqiao Workshop were still on.

Despite being called a "shop," it's actually just a renovated storefront on the east side of the resort. Originally a souvenir shop for tourists, the glass counter is still there, but instead of cheap trinkets, it displays various mechanical parts brought from the modern world by the Jiang family.

Gears, clockwork, shafts, springs...

Jiang Yun squatted behind the counter, holding a small file in her hand, trimming the edge of a brass gear.

"Ah Sheng, hand me that piece of fine sandpaper."

No one answered.

Jiang Yun didn't even look up. He pushed the file along the edge of the bronze piece a couple more times before finally raising his eyes.

"Ah Sheng, hand me that piece of fine sandpaper."

No one answered.

Jiang Yun didn't even look up. He pushed the file along the edge of the bronze piece a couple more times before finally raising his eyes.

Ah Sheng was lying on the opposite worktable, staring blankly out the window.

"Ah Sheng."

"Huh?" Ah Sheng sat up abruptly. "Brother Yun, you called me?"

"...fine sandpaper."

"oh oh."

Ah Sheng frantically rummaged through the pile of tools, finally managing to pull out some fine sandpaper. As he handed it over, he couldn't help but glance out the window one last time.

Jiang Yun took the fine sandpaper and continued to sand it.

"What are you looking at?"

"It's nothing." Ah Sheng paused, then added, "It's just... looking at those people."

Those people.

Jiang Yun knew what Ah Sheng was referring to.

The view from the window overlooks the middle section of the resort's main street, bustling with activity around dinnertime. The aroma of food wafts from the Xian Shan Fang restaurant, mingled with the shouts of children chasing and playing. Several women from Xiaoshi Village walk along the street carrying wooden basins filled with freshly washed clothes, chatting loudly in their local dialect. Further away, apprentices from the Feng family's medicinal herb garden return from work, hoes slung over their shoulders, their clothes speckled with mud, yet smiles adorn their faces.

Ah Sheng leaned against the window, his eyes following the children who ran past.

"Do those children have spiritual roots?"

Jiang Yun paused for a moment while holding the file.

"Who knows?"

Ah Sheng continued speaking to himself, "At their age, they must have already been taken to have their spiritual roots tested, right? Those with spiritual roots stayed, those without went home to farm. The lucky ones might even get a menial job as outer sect servants. The unlucky ones..."

He didn't finish speaking.

Jiang Yun didn't reply, but simply pushed the file a couple more times.

Ah Sheng suddenly turned around and said, "If we had lived in this era from the beginning, do you think we would have been taken in for a spiritual root test too?"

Jiang Yun finally raised her head.

"Why are you suddenly asking this?"

"It just popped into my head," Ah Sheng said in a muffled voice. "The people in Xiaoshi Village get so scared of 'immortal masters' that their legs go weak. Why? Isn't it because of that 'spiritual root' thing? Those with spiritual roots are taken away, and those without are treated like cattle. We don't have that kind of saying where we're from."

"Back then, it was the Dharma-ending Age." Jiang Yun put down the file, picked up the piece of bronze and examined it under the light. "Many rogue cultivators spent their entire lives trying to reach the Qi Refining stage, but they couldn't even get close to it."

His voice was calm, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

Ah Sheng remained silent.

Of course he knew what "rogue cultivators" were. They were cultivators who had no sect lineage, no family protection, and struggled in the Dharma-ending Age with only a few incomplete cultivation techniques. The vast majority of them spent their entire lives stuck in the Qi Sensing stage, never even touching the threshold of the Qi Refining stage.

"So," Ah Sheng slowly began, "back then, it wasn't that we didn't have spiritual roots, it was—"

"Whether it's a spiritual root or not is no longer important," Jiang Yun interrupted him. "When the spiritual energy of heaven and earth is cut off to the point that even sensing qi is as difficult as ascending to heaven, what difference does it make whether or not you test for a spiritual root?"

Ah Sheng opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing.

The room was quiet for a while.

A burst of laughter came from outside the window; the children had run back again. They were chasing and playing around the transplanted ginkgo tree in the middle of the street. A little girl with a high ponytail was running too fast and almost tripped, but was caught by a slightly older boy.

"Be careful!" the boy shouted, "You'll cry if you fall!"

"I won't cry!" the little girl shouted back, breaking free from his hand and running forward again.

Ah Sheng looked out the window and suddenly smiled.

"Senior brother," he said, "do you think that girl has spiritual roots?"

Jiang Yun did not answer.

He simply put the polished bronze component into the wooden box beside him, and then picked up another rough piece from the table.

"It's fine whether she has it or not," he said. "She's having a great time running around now."

Ah Sheng paused for a moment, then smiled.

"Too."