Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Divine Manifestation of the Celestial Spring Vein

More than a month later, an enormous ship appeared in the great arena of Qianxuan Sect.

The vessel was as large as a football field. Aside from the absence of masts, it was nearly identical to the ancient warships Shen Wan had seen on Earth.

Over ten days ago, Zhao Lei and his two companions had already returned to their own sects. As envoys, such visits were little more than official excursions, marked by feasting and merriment before returning to Guyou Sect with their hosts. Yet, the three of them had long since lost face and, with their injuries barely half healed, departed in haste, unable to linger a moment longer.

Inside the great arena, disciples from the Five Halls were arranged in orderly fashion around the ship, while more than a dozen figures already stood upon the deck. At the helm were the five Hall Masters led by Wei Zhen, Yu Yan of the Hidden Immortal Hall, Shen Wan himself, and seven elders, each bidding farewell to the disciples gathered below. The Sixth Elder, Qu Fanghua, and the Seventh Elder, Hong Zhichu, would remain to guard the sect. One would preside over the Celestial Cloud Platform, overseeing all spatial restrictions within the sect; the other, the chief of the Hundred Beasts Garden, could command all spirit beasts. Even if the other elders departed and an enemy sect attacked, as long as no master of the Soul-Dan realm arrived to annihilate the sect, these two would be more than enough to hold the fort. And above all, the Sect Master remained behind, a figure as elusive as a divine dragon, seen only in legend.

After entrusting the great dumpling to the care of the Hundred Beasts Garden, Shen Wan had boarded the ship early. Standing behind Wei Zhen, he glanced around at his fellow passengers: among the more than ten disciples the elders had brought, six ranked in the top ten of the Ten Prisons Tower, and another was Lin Bufan's senior brother, Wu Xi. The rest were unfamiliar faces.

“That girl Yun Shu isn’t here, thank goodness.” The memory of the murderous look she once gave him—no, the look that said she might actually devour him—made Shen Wan shiver involuntarily. Luckily she wasn’t aboard; otherwise, he couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t throw him off the ship herself.

Behind him, aside from Zhu Qianqing, stood another stunning beauty. Han Yuechan, Zhu Qianqing’s close friend, was also an inner disciple of the Hall of Arts. At one meter seventy-five, she was tall and slender, with a figure of perfect curves and a face of peerless beauty. Like Zhu Qianqing, she was a first-class beauty in every sense.

“As expected, beautiful people only associate with other beautiful people,” Shen Wan muttered shamelessly, subconsciously edging half a step closer to bask in the warmth radiating from the two women, feeling utterly delighted.

At last, three blasts of the horn sounded. Elder Wei Zhen stood at the prow, waving to the assembled disciples:

“Set sail!”

Immediately, the great ship groaned with a deafening clatter and began to rise slowly. Ascending several hundred meters into the air, it paused for a split second before shooting forward like an arrow released from a bow.

Shen Wan, caught off guard by the sudden inertia, was flung backward. Fortunately, Zhu Qianqing and Han Yuechan reacted swiftly, catching him before he could fall.

Wei Zhen, witnessing this, could only cover his face in exasperation. “Damn it, I forgot about that kid again…”

Inside the cabin, Shen Wan lay sprawled on the bed in the lounge, groaning.

“Ow… ow…”

To anyone who knew him, it was clear he was seasick; to anyone who didn’t, he might as well have been in the throes of childbirth.

To spare Shen Wan further discomfort, Wei Zhen ordered the ship to proceed at its slowest speed, though even then it was far faster than any airplane on Earth.

Clutching his face, Shen Wan tried to quell the spinning in his head, retching dryly over the side of the bed. Thankfully, his stomach was empty, or the room would have been uninhabitable.

Zhu Qianqing brought hot water to gently wipe the sweat from his brow, while Han Yuechan stood off to the side. Though the patient was an elder, she barely knew him and did not step forward to help.

Shen Wan deeply regretted agreeing to attend the grand ceremony at that wretched sect—risking his life just for a free meal.

The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt, retching even harder.

But just then, he sensed a sudden warmth surging within him, coiling about his right chest. Then, a blue vein bulged up from his chest, snaking up his neck to the back of his head.

“What’s this?”

He sensed something unusual but dared not make any assumptions. Suddenly, the dizziness vanished, replaced by a refreshing clarity that spread through his mind. He shivered unconsciously, every pore tingling.

“Ugh… ugh…” Groans escaped his nose, so unsettling that Han Yuechan, standing not far away, swallowed hard. That sound… was simply revolting.

Zhu Qianqing wasn’t surprised; she’d known Shen Wan long enough to be familiar with his antics.

Yet as the groans became more suggestive, she couldn’t help recalling how he had taken advantage of her in the Ten Prisons Tower. Narrowing her eyes, she slapped the scorching towel right onto Shen Wan’s face.

With a scream, Zhu Qianqing took Han Yuechan by the hand and left the lounge, flashing a polite smile at a dazed disciple standing by the door before returning to her own quarters.

The disciple swallowed nervously, sneaking a glance into Shen Wan’s room.

“Who would have thought… Elder Nine had such tastes?”

Shen Wan, oblivious to the disciple’s wild imaginings, tore the towel from his face, baring his teeth, only to find the elegant figures already gone. He clicked his tongue and pressed his palm to his chest.

“So this is… the Heavenly Spring Meridian?”

In another cabin, Wei Zhen carefully carried a bowl of freshly brewed medicinal soup, covered with pearl leaves, toward Shen Wan’s room.

Though Tianxuanzi had many disciples, few ever had the chance to meet him, some perhaps only once in a lifetime. Wei Zhen, therefore, doted on his youngest junior as if caring for a child.

Just as he reached the door, a sudden crash sounded—the door was kicked open from the inside. Caught off guard, Wei Zhen had the bowl of soup thrown back into his own face.

Soup dripped down his cheeks, and he was about to curse when Shen Wan, darting out like a big black rat, caught sight of him and grinned.

“Greetings, senior brother!”

With that, Shen Wan dashed up to the deck without looking back.

Wei Zhen stood there with his mouth agape, watching his junior’s retreating figure. For the first time, he truly wished to help his master clean house.

On deck, Shen Wan felt none of his previous discomfort, neither from inertia nor pressure. He informed Second Elder Zhang Qi at the helm that he was fine and that there was no need to worry, and they could proceed at full speed.

He then hurried below deck to Third Elder Hanshanzi’s cabin, hoping to borrow a pair of goggles for the wind.

Hanshanzi, an elder of the Forging Hall, didn’t have such a thing, but after rummaging through his storage bag, produced a pair of glasses resembling wind goggles. They were actually a tool for detecting low-grade ores, but they would serve well enough as wind protection. Valueless, Hanshanzi simply gifted them to Shen Wan.

Thanking him profusely, Shen Wan donned the glasses and returned to the deck.

By now, the ship was moving at its highest speed. Standing at the prow, Shen Wan felt the wind whip past him—utter exhilaration.

Below, mountains wreathed in clouds and mist drifted by; giant birds soared alongside the vessel; ancient trees pierced the cloud layer; lakes gleamed in every color. Once again, Shen Wan was struck by a sense of awe.

One word: beautiful. Two words: truly beautiful. Three words: indescribably beautiful—well, buy three, get two free.

But beauty, no matter how breathtaking, grows dull with time; stare long enough and even the most wondrous sights become wearying. Shen Wan’s eyes soon ached, and glancing at the high-hanging sun, he wondered how long this day would last—it seemed it might be another five or six hours before dusk.

He bid farewell to Second Elder Zhang Qi and returned to his room.

There was little in the way of entertainment aboard the ship. The other disciples and elders were either busy piloting the vessel or cultivating in their cabins; no one was idle.

Only he was bored enough to scratch at the walls.

As the saying goes, joy alone is not as good as shared joy. Shen Wan decided it would be better to be bored together than alone.

Ten minutes later, Lin Bufan, Zhu Qianqing, and Han Yuechan all appeared in his lounge, looking bewildered.

“Elder Uncle, is there something you wish to instruct us?” Lin Bufan asked, bowing.

Shen Wan, adopting an air of wisdom, narrowed his eyes.

“Good question… now, what exactly was it I wanted to say?”

Truthfully, he was just bored and wanted someone to chat with.

Lin Bufan didn’t mind; having advanced his cultivation too quickly lately, he was resting and consolidating his progress. Zhu Qianqing and Han Yuechan, however, had just bathed and not yet had time to care for their skin when Shen Wan had summoned them. Their hair was still damp, their attire casual, and their delicate shoulders draped in thin silks—quite alluring.

Shen Wan wondered if he was disturbing them. If he didn’t come up with something serious to say, these two might very well claw him to death.

Seeing Han Yuechan’s brows knit in impatience, Shen Wan’s mind raced and he quickly spoke:

“While traveling far from home, dangers and unforeseen circumstances are inevitable. Since both Qing and Chan are with me, I will do my utmost to protect you both.”

Zhu Qianqing bowed in gratitude, while Han Yuechan, hearing the ambiguous way Elder Nine addressed her, felt a tickle in her heart and rolled her eyes, grudgingly bowing as well.

Shen Wan paid it no mind and continued, “The Grand Elder is, after all, leading the delegation. Once we arrive at Guyou Sect, he’ll likely be too busy to look after us. So—”

He glanced at Lin Bufan.

“Lin, you’ll join us too when the time comes.”

Lin Bufan, of course, did not refuse. “Yes, Elder Uncle,” he said with a bow.

Satisfied, Shen Wan went on, “In that case, we should come up with some secret signals or code words only we understand. That way, if anything happens, we’ll be able to respond quickly.”

“Code words?” The three looked bewildered.

And so began Shen Wan’s time-killing lecture. If he said “call,” it meant they were being monitored; “GPRS” meant being tracked; “scan the code” meant pay up; “shift gears” meant run; “say the word” meant start a fight; and certain words meant ambush…

He had mentioned some of these in the Ten Prisons Tower, but mostly to mislead the other two. This time, revisiting the topic, he found them even more intrigued.

Thus, Shen Wan explained each term in detail, making sure the three memorized them.

Time flew by. In the end, he was the only one on the verge of falling asleep, while the other three’s eyes shone with green light, full of energy.

After all, these were novel ideas, far more interesting than idle gossip.

At last, when Shen Wan truly couldn’t stand it any longer, he found an excuse to send them off.

“Trying to steal a chicken and losing the rice…” he muttered, smacking his parched lips, too tired even to drink water. He flopped onto the bed and quickly drifted into a deep sleep.

But before dawn, a loud banging sounded at his door.

Grumbling from being woken so early, Shen Wan opened the door reluctantly.

It was those three again, all smiling brightly at him.

“Boss, the alarm’s rung; time to boot up.”

The hidden meaning: Boss, time’s up, get to work.

Shen Wan stared at them blankly; he truly wanted to punch himself in the face.

…

After about three days, the great ship entered the territory of Guyou Sect.

During those three days, Shen Wan nearly went mad. He had exhausted almost every topic from his life on Earth. What he didn’t realize was that the other three were anything but ordinary—they had excellent memories, and whatever he said, they remembered instantly. More than once, Shen Wan found himself at a loss, unable to recall the nonsense terms he’d invented, and had to rely on the others to remind him.

As the ship began to descend, Shen Wan stood at the prow and let out a long sigh.

“Sigh, this generation of students… is really hard to handle…”