Chapter Two: Years in the Mountains (Part One)

The fourth year of Martial Virtue.

Mount Mao, located in the Danyang Prefecture of Jiangnan, is the birthplace of the Shangqing sect of Daoism and is revered by Daoists as the “Shangqing Temple of Ancestral Rites.” It is known as “the foremost blessed land, the eighth celestial cave.” The mountain is adorned with bizarre and dense rock formations, large and small winding caves, sacred springs and pools scattered like stars, and streams weaving through the landscape; peaks tower in layers, shrouded in mist, with verdant bamboo and abundant treasures of nature. Within the mountain resides a sect, said to have been founded in the fifth year of the Yuan Emperor of Han, when three brothers from the Mao family of Xianyang, Shaanxi, came to gather herbs and refine elixirs, saving the people and later achieving enlightenment and ascending to immortality through secluded cultivation. Later, the recluse Tao Hongjing of the Qi and Liang dynasties established a Daoist sect here, venerating the Mao brothers as ancestral masters, thus the Mount Mao Sect was born.

The current Grandmaster of Mount Mao is Wang Yuanzhi, a man of extraordinary talent. It is said that upon his birth, his mother dreamed of a phoenix, and there were cries from within her womb. A monk named Baozhi declared Wang Yuanzhi would either become an official or a deity. The prophecy came true. Wang Yuanzhi was remarkably intelligent from a young age, learned widely, and later entered Mount Mao for cultivation, becoming a renowned master. He served through several dynasties, highly esteemed by emperors, especially after he secretly advised Tang’s founder, Li Yuan, on a prophecy that guided him to seize the empire. Li Yuan was deeply grateful. Now at one hundred and nine years old, Wang Yuanzhi remains vigorous and full of life.

In the third year of Martial Virtue, mid-June, at dawn, before the sun had risen, the sky was filled with rosy clouds—a time when the purple aura comes from the east.

Between the fifth and sixth peaks of Mount Mao’s nine summits lies a valley, where a river winds through wildflowers and strange trees. In the valley stands a thatched hut, before which an old man and two children sit facing the sunrise, eyes closed in meditation. The old man is Wang Yuanzhi. One of the children is Li Yi, the infant Wang Yuanzhi found three years ago. From Li Yi’s bundle, Wang Yuanzhi discovered a round white jade pendant carved with a dragon and phoenix dancing around the character “Li” on the front, and a three-legged cauldron on the back. Thus, Wang Yuanzhi gave the child the surname Li. The given name was found on the child’s bellyband—Yi. So he named him Li Yi. But no one knew that Li Yi was a visitor from another world.

Li Yi’s real name was Li Lingfeng, a scion of a prominent family in the new era Celestial Empire. He grew up in luxury, lacking nothing, but was always drawn to exploring ancient places and seeking thrills. An eager learner, he was curious about everything, learned from many teachers, and became a jack-of-all-trades, though never mastering any one thing due to his fleeting interests. His knowledge was broad but shallow.

Li Lingfeng’s greatest passion was classical Chinese studies, especially calligraphy. He pursued this hobby for twenty years without wavering—a remarkable feat for a thrill-seeking young man. His friends nicknamed him “Scholar Jia” for this. He was loyal, responsible, unrestrained, and irreverent—kind-hearted with a touch of roguishness.

A week before, Li Lingfeng received an invitation from his mischievous friends, “Master Diao,” “General Fatty,” and others, who claimed to have discovered an ancient tomb suspected to be from the Tang dynasty in the Central Plains. Without hesitation, he packed his bags and set off with them. Upon reaching Mount Mao, they managed to gain access and joined the archaeologists in exploring the tomb. After many twists and turns, they reached the deepest chamber and found a coffin. The experts carefully deliberated, researched, and finally opened it, finding only a jade pendant engraved with the character “Li.” Li Lingfeng picked up the pendant to examine it, but was suddenly pricked by it, blood flowing freely, and then... nothing more. When he awoke, he found himself an infant lying in the grass, and soon after was found by Wang Yuanzhi, who took him back to Mount Mao and raised him as his disciple, renaming him Li Yi.

The other child was also found by Wang Yuanzhi and named Zhang Zhicheng, becoming Li Yi’s companion.

In Mount Mao, Li Yi gradually came to accept his new reality—he had arrived and could not return. Fortunately, though surrounded by tedious Daoist priests, he had Zhang Zhicheng to banter with, occasionally boasting or telling stories, earning the confused yet admiring gaze of the six- or seven-year-old Zhang Zhicheng, much to Li Yi’s delight. At least his vanity was satisfied.

At age five, Wang Yuanzhi began teaching Li Yi and Zhang Zhicheng martial arts. Li Yi, having had some experience in the military, was not unfamiliar with training. However, Wang Yuanzhi’s teachings leaned toward Daoist methods, so Li Yi unconsciously resorted to Taiji Boxing.

That proved to be a surprise! Wang Yuanzhi was captivated by Taiji Boxing, recognizing in its movements the principles of yin and yang, and the interplay of hardness and softness. He became obsessed, discussing it feverishly with Li Yi. Though Li Yi had only learned Taiji under his grandfather’s insistence, considering its slow movements ill-suited to his energetic nature, he spent a month teaching Wang Yuanzhi the basics. For a child, imparting such knowledge was astonishing, but for Li Yi, the process was arduous—one month was his limit.

After learning Taiji, Wang Yuanzhi studied it day and night, even contemplating seclusion. Li Yi and Zhang Zhicheng tried to dissuade him, but ultimately failed.

“Cheng’er, Yi’er! You are both old enough now. Tell me, what do you wish to do in the future?”

Zhang Zhicheng, shy and not good at expressing himself, pondered for a long time before answering, “Master, I only wish to stay by your side.”

Wang Yuanzhi smiled and nodded.

When it was Li Yi’s turn, he replied without hesitation, “A true man studies for the rise of China; a gentleman’s ambition lies in the world!”

Wang Yuanzhi narrowed his eyes, smiled, and said nothing.

“Very well! Since this is so, I will find someone to teach you. No matter what you wish to do, you must master these skills. Without a foundation, nothing can be accomplished!”

Li Yi and Zhang Zhicheng knew their master was resolved to enter seclusion and ceased trying to stop him. They only hoped the new teacher would be reasonable. But unexpectedly, the one who came was a Daoist named Pan Shizheng—Li Yi’s so-called senior brother. Thus began their days of hardship.

In Li Yi’s eyes, Pan Shizheng was a male version of the infamous Abbess Miejue: stern and merciless. A year ago, Li Yi and Zhang Zhicheng had been scolded for a full hour over a minor incident, with not a single repeated word. Since then, Pan Shizheng became their nightmare.

From then on, Li Yi and Zhang Zhicheng had only two tasks each day: reading and martial arts. Having endured over a decade of modern education, Li Yi loathed studying. He tried to rebel—putting flies in bowls, shaving Pan’s beard as he slept, pouring sacred water and child’s urine into his cup—but ultimately, he was no match for his teacher and surrendered. Nevertheless, Pan Shizheng proved capable; once Li Yi settled down, he found he truly learned a great deal.

In the first year of the Zhenguan era, after five years in seclusion, Wang Yuanzhi finally emerged. When he did, Zhang Zhicheng and Li Yi hugged him and wept—partly celebrating their liberation, partly out of genuine longing, for Wang Yuanzhi was both father and teacher to them.

Wang Yuanzhi’s seclusion was fruitful: he used Li Yi’s rudimentary Taiji to create a combat version of Taiji Boxing and Taiji Sword, astonishing even Li Yi. He then taught both disciplines to the boys without reservation.

Life continued thus until the fifth year of Zhenguan, a day Li Yi would never forget—for on that day, he gained much, but also lost a great deal.