Chapter Three: Preaching in the Age of Decline, The Orphan Entrusted to Penglai

That voice seemed to carry an irresistible magic, piercing through my eardrums and reaching straight into my soul. I felt my feet move forward beyond my control, and the small hand in my palm, which had first resisted, gradually became compliant and followed obediently.

We, father and daughter, were like puppets drawn forward by invisible threads, step by step toward the depths of that vast, empty hall.

With each step, the surroundings grew clearer. I saw that the towering jade pillars were carved with countless intricate runes, each glowing faintly, shifting with extraordinary slowness. The floor was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting our diminutive figures and, above us, a dome of blue crystal, vast as the starry sky. Everything here exuded an ancient and transcendent majesty.

At last, we reached the end of the great hall.

There was no golden throne as I had imagined, nor a retinue of celestial maidens. There was only a single woven mat, upon which sat an elderly man with snow-white hair and beard, cross-legged in silent meditation.

He wore a faded grey Daoist robe, patched in several places with unremarkable mending. His face was gaunt, his eyes closed, his skin etched with deep wrinkles as if marking the passage of centuries. If not for the aura that seemed to merge him with the hall itself, as profound and unshakable as mountains and sea, I might have mistaken him for a solitary old man from the wilds.

He did not open his eyes, yet every movement of ours seemed to be perfectly clear to him.

“Fated ones, at last you have arrived!” He spoke slowly, his voice ancient and hoarse, but now with a nearness that was almost tangible. “This realm is called ‘Penglai,’ the mountain gate of my Penglai Immortal Sect. But long ago, it became shrouded by the endless chaos of the void. If not for a crack appearing as the spiritual power of the realm is about to collapse, your mortal vessel would never have even approached it.”

A chill ran through me. So we had not entered a paradise, but trespassed into the final crevice of a world on the verge of destruction. Instinctively, I drew Yi-Yi behind me, bowed, and said, “Junior Jiang Xiuyuan, I meant no offense, honored Immortal. My daughter and I seek only a place to rest, and would never dare disturb your cultivation.”

The elder seemed to sigh, the sound echoing with crystal clarity in the hall. “Cultivation? The spiritual energy here is exhausted, all arts withered. The age of Dharma is ending—what cultivation is there to speak of?”

At last, he slowly opened his eyes.

And what eyes they were! No dazzling brilliance, no shifting of sun and moon, only unfathomable depths, weary and eternal, as if they had witnessed the rise and fall of oceans and stars.

“I am the 3,700th guardian of Penglai, known as Gui Xu. I remain here not to cultivate, but to await a chance to pass on Penglai’s legacy. Now, as the last spiritual vein of this realm is about to be spent, I shall use these final moments to activate the Star Path Array and journey to a star system suitable for cultivation, to seek the true ‘Immortal Realm.’ And you…”

His gaze fell upon Yi-Yi and me, and in those desolate eyes, at last a ripple of emotion stirred.

“…You are that opportunity.”

I was stunned, unable to grasp his meaning. I was but a guard, a mortal, and Yi-Yi was only a nine-year-old child—how could we inherit the legacy of an immortal sect?

“You jest, honored Immortal. We are but flesh and blood, mere mortals—how could we be worthy…”

“Your worth,” Gui Xu said, his gaze piercing my soul, “lies in your devotion as a father, in your unyielding grip through the storm. Her worth lies in her trust as a daughter, in her unwavering faith in you amid desolation. This ‘devotion’ and ‘trust’ are the purest qualities of heart in the world, the rarest seeds upon the path of cultivation.”

His tone shifted. “There is no time for much explanation. When I am gone, this Penglai Immortal Isle shall vanish into the void, becoming a sanctuary for you both. Now, I bestow upon you a portion of Penglai’s legacy.”

With that, he raised his fingers like a sword and pointed toward my brow.

A beam of golden light shot from his fingertip and entered my consciousness. In an instant, torrents of knowledge surged through my mind—body forging techniques, swordsmanship, the basics of formation, alchemical recipes beyond counting… vast and varied, yet all perfectly ordered. My head felt ready to split open; I grunted and fell to one knee.

“Father!” Yi-Yi cried out, rushing to steady me.

“Do not move.” Gui Xu turned his gaze to Yi-Yi, his eyes softening. “Child, your pure nature is suited to Penglai’s arts—nurturing spiritual plants, taming beasts. Perhaps you may one day restore life to this silent isle.”

Another beam of blue-green light shot into Yi-Yi’s brow. Unlike my pain, she merely shuddered, her face alight with comfort and curiosity, as if in a sweet dream.

After this, Gui Xu looked even more pallid. From his sleeve, he drew an ancient jade box, opening it to reveal two dragon-eye-sized pills, glowing with gentle radiance.

“These are the ‘Elixirs of Longevity’ left by our sect’s founder,” he intoned. “The world believes these pills grant immortality, but that is not their true purpose. They grant a century of life to one whose span nears its end. Alas, the patriarchs of Penglai were all extraordinary—some ascended before their time, others were so full of life they never needed them. So these two elixirs were left forgotten. Now, as I depart, they are useless to me and so I leave them to you.”

He paused, then continued, “Though you inherit our legacy, you remain mortal, with lifespans no longer than a hundred years. When your end draws near, take these pills—they may buy you time to further continue Penglai’s inheritance.”

Ignoring the pounding in my head, I looked up, my heart a tumult of emotions. This was no immortal fate, but a trust passed across millennia!

Gui Xu did not leave me long to reflect. He pushed the jade box before me and drew from his robes a palm-sized token, neither metal nor jade, dark green in color, engraved with characters I had never seen, which read, “Penglai.”

“This is the Penglai Sect Leader’s token. With this, you may control most of the island’s basic wards. When I am gone, this island and this sect are yours.”

He placed the token atop the jade box, then rose slowly.

“Jiang Xiuyuan. Jiang Yi-Yi.” He called our names one last time, his voice solemn and grave. “From this day forth, you are the leaders of Penglai in this world. Remember—so long as the legacy endures, so too does Penglai.”

Barely had his words faded when the hall shuddered violently! I saw countless runes light up beneath Gui Xu, forming a massive, intricate circular array. Around it, nine brilliant gems shot dazzling beams skyward, enveloping him completely.

“Elder!” I shouted instinctively.

Within the radiance, his form grew indistinct, leaving only that ancient, lonely voice echoing for the last time in our ears:

“The path to immortality is long—may we meet again…”

As the light faded, silence returned to the hall.

The old man called Gui Xu, along with his meditation mat, had vanished without a trace.

Only Yi-Yi and I remained, together with the jade box containing the two elixirs and the heavy sect leader’s token that now symbolized the fate of a stranger’s legacy.

I gazed at the bewildered Yi-Yi in my arms, then at the vast, silent immortal hall around us. In that moment, I felt even more lost than I had in the midst of the storm.