73: Chapter 72: Divine Thunder Descends from the Sky 73: Chapter 72: Divine Thunder Descends from the Sky Hou Niao returned to the hall and came to the side of the little girl who was still battling with the fruits on her plate, sighing inwardly, simple joy is true happiness.

He was quite worried, about the Quanzhen Sect, about Li Chuping.

Having gone through so much, he found his judgment of this sect and this person always wavering, no sooner had he reached a conclusion than it would be overturned, leaving him at a loss what to do.

There were too many details, histories, past events, and major trends; he had merely touched a tiny piece of the tip of the iceberg, so how could he dare to jump to conclusions?

He couldn’t just rashly draw conclusions before he truly saw the Cultivation World for what it was.

…The longevity celebration finally began, solemn but not complicated, warm but not noisy, mostly refined cultivators, so there was no urging to drink and no raucous behavior;

As for the food, they tasted lightly and stopped at just enough; as for the wine, a mere sip was sufficient.

In the mortal world, people would shun celebrating a hundredth birthday due to fear of jealousy from the heavens; they’d say, why not just live quietly, why must you show off, aren’t you attracting trouble and resentment?

But in the Cultivation World, a hundred years is far from the end; it’s even fair to say it is just the first step on the road to longevity, so there are none of the mortals’ worries.

However, cultivators have their own concerns, such as for the old immortal Daoist Guan, his big mouth that could reveal heavenly secrets!

Having recently ascended to the Tongxuan Realm, his heart was full of eagerness for the future, filled with hope, so he took this occasion to declare his intention, vowing no longer to let loose words that divulged the will of heaven, a natural intuition after reaching a certain stage in his cultivation.

An hour later, the banquet had reached its peak of enjoyment, and both host and guests were content; the old immortal Daoist Guan went to bathe and change clothes in preparation, while guests headed toward the vast rear garden of the Guan residence, the hundreds of attendees moving as one, like a long dragon.

The Daoists had long since disappeared, and Hou Niao, carrying the little girl in a bamboo basket, sighed inwardly, afraid he might not have the chance to carry her like this again in the future; humans are such strange creatures, finding it troublesome when carrying her, yet feeling somewhat reluctant to let go…

The rear garden had pavilions, unnamed.

This was the old immortal Daoist Guan’s little quirk, much like the way a person who has done something wrong does not wish to leave their name, giving off a slightly self-deceiving vibe.

Hou Niao stood far behind the crowd, the pavilion was tall enough, so there was no need to worry about not being able to see.

Although the crowd stood casually, there was an implicit order, with those of higher realms, important statuses, and closer relationships standing at the front, while unrelated individuals were positioned towards the back, like Hou Niao, who had no obvious connection…

It didn’t really matter.

Everyone was waiting for the old immortal’s last divination, thought to be his swan song; but those with real cultivation knew that this final divination was merely a formality, the old man had insisted for ten years not to divine for others, how could he possibly dig a big hole for himself in his final, most revealing moment?

Thus, this divination would surely be vague and elusive, grand yet trivial, metaphysical; to speak or not to speak made no difference…

Those unaware of the truth still expected to hear some so-called earth-shattering prophecy here?

What were they thinking?

This is the fundamental misunderstanding of the Great Dao, presumptuousness.

Hou Niao watched from a distance, as the surroundings gradually quieted down, except for the sound of meticulous chewing and slow swallowing right by his ear, which never ceased; this puzzled him immensely, how long had she been eating?

From before the start of the banquet until now, it never stopped.

Only after witnessing the little one’s capacity did he realize how much his previous feeding had been a mere placation; he couldn’t be blamed, in his understanding, it’s always better to be a tad hungry than to overeat and end up with all sorts of issues.

The child had yet to show any sign of speaking up to this point, but judging by her appetite, things were developing on a positive note; at least, when juice dripped from the sweet melon she was eating, did she not use her hand to wipe it on his neck for him?

Even if it became sticky the more she wiped…

…The old immortal Daoist Guan finally appeared, attired in a wide vestment robe, fluttering as if he could soar into the heavens; no Peach Wood Sword, no Magic Bell, such were petty tricks for swindlers in the mortal world.

He walked up to the pavilion, faced the crowd, spread his arms, and sang,

“…Ancient grounds of the Spiritual Spring, a millennium has passed, Anhe’s scenic beauty, the crown of all lands.

Clouds shroud the wild trees hiding mountain temples, the wind carries the sound of frosty bells to Liuyang.

The stone Buddha cold beneath the harvest moon, the scent of paddy flowers beneath the worn stele.

Ladder-like clouds lead up to the mountain’s peak, a clear sky for miles holding visions of a distant home…”

He was a man of Liuyang who, after some success in his cultivation, wandered the continent to broaden his horizons, and it took decades before he returned home, having earned an iron-clad reputation; in his later years, he devoted himself to deeper study of the Dao, reflecting on his past to finally attain enlightenment.

He dared to challenge the Tongxuan Realm at the unimaginable age of ninety, succeeded, and added decades to his life.

This song was a tribute to his hometown, truly heartfelt.

Moved, he continued to sing,

“…The Dao is hidden, out of sight, the Spiritual Book enshrined in the Grotto Heaven.

My master for forty thousand calamities, passed down through generations.

Leave the bamboo staff, walk singing into the purple mist.

The heart’s detachment knows no distance, always suspended in the Purple Mansion…”

His lineage had never been revealed to anyone, shrouded in mystery; on the Jinxiu Continent, there were not many Daoist sects involved in divination, and precisely because of this, though many sects had invited him to join and impart his knowledge, he refused each one out of respect for his mysterious lineage.

Yet, when young, he reveled in revealing holiness before others, going against many rules of his heritage; this is an inevitable phase in a cultivator’s growth.

How many enjoy walking in by darkness?

It’s all about dazzling with one’s learning and reaping respectful gazes from others.

Without the fame from those public manifestations of sanctity in the past, he couldn’t have achieved his current status or befriended so many outstanding figures.

Today was a day of resolution, a rare opportunity, and he was not stingy about sharing the divinatory insights earned over a century,

“…Divination has three realms, the first is the realm of objects.

To compose a poem of mountains and rivers, envision a world of springs and rocks, lofty peaks—those sublimely beautiful—imbue the spirit within the heart, immerse the being in the realm, see the realm in the heart, grasp it clearly as if it’s in your palm, then engage your thoughts, and understand the realm clearly, thus you can capture its likeness.

The second is the realm of emotions.

Joy and sorrow spread into the imagination and are felt within the body, then let thoughts gallop to deeply capture these emotions.

The third is the realm of ideas.

Also extend into the imagination and ponder within the mind, thus grasping its essence…”

In fact, he was still only at the object realm, occasionally by chance glimpsing something of the emotional realm, a stroke of pure luck.

“After today, there will be only those who tirelessly climb the path, no more soothsaying old immortals…

Sealing the divination, to avoid the envy of the heavens, no personal readings, no involvement in affairs, no mention of causality…

All under the heavens of Jinxiu land, surrounded by the scenic sea…

Since we all exist in this world, then let me observe this splendid earth and heaven!”

To talk broadly about divination, in vague and ethereal terms, is the best strategy for diviners to preserve themselves; but for him, with a low realm, it was impossible to truly see the future of the Jinxiu land, he must find an item to serve as a divinatory guide!

For instance, tracing the far-reaching impact of an event, the rise and fall of a particular school, the life’s ups and downs of a person…then through this specific item, to infer the changes in the Jinxiu world for a time to come, is a lazy form of divination, and the ultimate he is capable of at his realm.

What should he choose as the divinatory guide?

He was still hesitating, but since the Capital Commandant Quanzhen Li had written to ask him to read the fortune of this young cultivator, then using this person as an entry point into the realm, judging the future of Jinxiu through his life, was also a good choice!

After all, how long could this young cultivator live?

How much could he experience?

For him, such a faintly significant figure was just right, unlikely to incur the wrath and backlash of the Heavenly Dao.

His spirit penetrated the void, the world slowly becoming clear amidst Chaos…

He saw it, blood-red for thousands of miles, the Heavenly River colorless!

Order shifting, the constellations moving!

A bolt of Divine Thunder struck down from the sky…

“Oh no…”

The old immortal collapsed with a skyward gaze!