Chapter Two: The One Without a Spiritual Realm

Within the residence of Lin Bufan.

Shen Wan sat across from Lin Bufan.

“You’re an outer disciple. Don’t you know you’re not allowed in the inner sect?”

Ever since Lin Bufan had fallen from the divine altar and become a wastrel, he no longer possessed that lofty, untouchable aura. Even as an elder’s direct disciple, when speaking to these humble outer disciples, his words were only slightly stern.

Shen Wan was bewildered by the question. He suddenly recalled mentioning he was an outer disciple, though it was just an offhand remark he hadn’t meant seriously.

“So what? Outer disciples can’t enter the inner sect?”

What ridiculous rules—he hadn’t expected the hierarchy here to be so strict.

Lin Bufan frowned upon hearing this.

“No one explained the rules to you when you joined the sect?”

“No.”

Lin Bufan fell silent.

“Forget it. The inner sect’s restrictions are lifted at this hour. Tonight you’ll have to stay here, but leave early tomorrow morning.”

Apparently preoccupied, Lin Bufan didn’t wait for Shen Wan to reply before preparing to leave.

“By the way, when you wake up tomorrow, just leave on your own. If anyone asks, say you brought me medicinal herbs. Take the path behind the mountain when you go.”

With that, he strode out without waiting for Shen Wan to respond.

Staring at his departing figure, Shen Wan was dumbfounded.

“What the hell—what kind of person is this? So cold?”

Over the past eight days, Shen Wan had seen people riding swords or birds in the sky and had guessed that this place was likely a den of immortals. But only after meeting one for the first time did he truly understand the gulf between mortals and immortals.

He stretched and stood up; the room wasn’t large, but everything one might need was provided. Glancing out the window, he saw night had fallen.

He secured the door and, not wanting to soil the bedding with his clothes, stripped down and slipped under the covers. After eight days lying in weeds, he finally felt a bed beneath him; hugging the soft quilt, Shen Wan felt indescribably happy.

A sweet smile curled his lips, and he quickly drifted off to sleep.

In his dreams, layers of mist appeared before his eyes. It seemed a figure stood at the edge of the sky; if not for the fluttering hem of his robe, Shen Wan might have thought it was merely a patch of black fog.

“All things in the universe possess spirit; all causes and effects are spirit. Spirit is zero—from zero to myriad things, from myriad things back to zero.”

“Cultivation is to master the starry seas, to return to the original truth. Only by reversing the process can one stand atop the heavens.”

“In the beginning, creation had no spirit. The path against heaven grants you a state without spirit; all things in the world become empty!”

Shen Wan stood foolishly in a realm of darkness.

The mist before him was so thick he couldn’t tell near from far.

He listened to the figure’s words, confusion clouding his mind.

“Do you understand?”

The blurred figure spoke again.

Shen Wan shook his head.

The figure paused.

“Very well, I’ll repeat myself.”

“All things in the universe possess spirit; all causes and effects are spirit. Spirit is…”

A clear, resonant voice echoed in his ears, like surround sound.

After speaking, the figure looked at Shen Wan again.

Shen Wan still stared blankly, muttering:

“Could you… explain it a bit more clearly?”

“Damn!”

The figure’s robe suddenly billowed, then settled.

“In short, from now on, anything with spiritual power will be as air to you—ordinary, meaningless.”

“You cannot absorb the world’s spiritual energy to cultivate; all spiritual power shall be immune to you.”

“You are the only one in the universe without spirit!”

“Do you…”

“No, you understand now. Farewell!”

Before Shen Wan could speak, the figure twisted suddenly.

A tremendous force surged toward him—his mind tightened, and he snapped his eyes open.

The sun was high; daylight flooded the room.

Shen Wan felt as though he’d only blinked, and the day had dawned.

He rose, dressed, and stepped into the courtyard, still a bit dazed as he looked around the quiet compound.

He recalled that the immortal’s name was Lin Bufan, though he wasn’t sure how to address him. Judging by appearances, he was probably older than Lin, so Shen Wan called out in the ancient style:

“Brother Lin, Brother Lin, are you there?”

He called several times, but no one answered; the youth was likely not in the residence.

Touching his stomach, he remembered the four field mouse legs he’d eaten last night had long since been digested. He wondered if the big rat in the field was still there—he could reheat it for another meal.

Recalling Lin Bufan’s instructions, it seemed he would have to return via the small path.

Without further ado, Shen Wan washed up briefly and prepared to leave.

He strolled to the gate, and as soon as he opened it, a cacophony erupted from outside.

He paused, then quickly shut the gate again; instantly, silence returned.

“Damn, it’s soundproof?”

He tilted his head to examine the courtyard walls, which were indeed open at the top.

He opened the gate again—the noise returned.

“So strange!”

Amused, Shen Wan opened and closed the gate several times before finally losing interest and stepping outside.

The scenery outside was as beautiful as ever, breathtaking and serene.

Though the feeling differed from last night’s view, it still evoked that sense of “not seeing the true face of Mount Lu because I am within the mountain.”

Well, perhaps the words didn’t quite fit.

It didn’t matter; Shen Wan quietly mocked his own literary talents.

Outside the gate, groups of young men and women passed by, chatting and laughing as if some joyous event awaited them.

This was the first time since arriving in this world that Shen Wan had seen so many people.

“Third Sister, who do you think will win first place at this year’s sect competition?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’ll definitely be Senior Sister Yunshu.”

“I heard Senior Sister Yunshu has reached the ninth stage of Focus. Do you think she can reach the top of the tower this time?”

“Hard to say. No one’s made it to the top of the Ten Hells Tower in the past hundred years.”

“Hey, is Zhao the Second from your Inscription Pavilion brave enough to compete again?”

“You folks from the Pill Pavilion never let up, huh? Still bringing up last year’s arena match!”

“Haha, your class’s Zhao got beaten up by our Shuang for half a month last year. How could we forget?”

“You cheated! If Senior Brother Zhao hadn’t held back, he would’ve knocked that Shuang Cannon out of the ring with the first blow.”

“Hahaha, blame me then?”

“You’re all just sneaky cowards. Has Shuang Cannon’s punishment been lifted for today’s competition?”

“Pfft, Shuang isn’t here, but Senior Brother Han will still beat your Pill Pavilion team by a mile.”

“Hahahaha…”

“Hey, look—the Inscription Pavilion and Pill Pavilion are at it again.”

“When aren’t they? Looks like there’ll be good drama this year.”

The crowd grew increasingly boisterous.

Watching these spirited youths, Shen Wan couldn’t help but reminisce about his own high school days, brawling with Liu Lei against Er Gouzi.

“Youth!”

He gazed skyward at a forty-five-degree angle, lost in sentiment.

As people passed by, they glanced at Shen Wan, whispered among themselves, then moved on.

Shen Wan knew his face was unfamiliar here, so he paid them no mind.

He squared his shoulders, completely forgetting about leaving, tempted to join the excitement.

Just as he was about to step forward, he felt someone’s gaze upon him.

No—upon his side. Down below.

A little girl, barely four foot six, looked up at him with bright, moon-like eyes.

Her eyes blinked, lashes fluttering.

Shen Wan looked down; she looked up.

“What are you doing?” Shen Wan asked.

“Who are you?” the little one replied.

“None of your business who I am,” Shen Wan retorted.

“You’re not from our courtyard. Who are you?” The girl frowned.

“How do you know I’m not from your courtyard?” Shen Wan’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’ve never seen you,” she replied confidently.

“There are plenty of people you’ve never seen. How do you know whether you’ve seen me or not?”

Shen Wan furrowed his brow, feigning a fierce expression to intimidate her.

She was unmoved, instead a bit annoyed as she said,

“I’m from the Supervision Group of the Spell Pavilion. All disciples must register with us after joining. I haven’t seen your record, so you’re not from the Spell Pavilion!”

She raised her delicate arm and pointed to the red armband embroidered with golden letters.

“Supervision”—the characters gleamed brightly.

Years ago, Shen Wan had been fined by neighborhood grannies wearing red armbands for littering a cigarette butt, and the little girl before him had the same commanding presence.

After a moment, Shen Wan raised his head to the sky at a forty-five-degree angle and sighed deeply.

He then turned and strolled leisurely back into the courtyard.

With a bang, the gate slammed shut.

Outside, the little girl stood dumbfounded, staring at the closed door in a daze.

Only after a while did she realize—he’d completely disregarded her!

Blushing, she trembled as she pulled a communication token from her sleeve.

She opened the group chat, bit her lip, and tapped the voice button.

“In the Spell Pavilion disciples’ residential area, Building A-4, outside Senior Brother Lin Bufan’s residence, an unidentified person is present, refuses inspection, acting brazenly—please investigate immediately!”

She bit out the last word fiercely before quickly sending the message.

A moment later, a red text reply popped up:

“You have been removed from the group. Any objections are meaningless.”

…