Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Lame Taoist Vows, and the Zhang Residence Celebrates a Second Wedding

At this moment, all sounds had ceased, and a single utterance roused those lost in their dreams.

After the lame Taoist finished speaking, everyone present was struck speechless with astonishment.

"A place that doesn't exist? Yet Mountain Lord exists there?" Song Mo curled his lip, glancing skeptically at the lame Taoist, and inwardly muttered, "Is this Taoist just making things up to placate Little Mountain Lord and the others? Talking about existence and nonexistence—it's practically a philosophical debate. This trick of his is quite impressive."

Thinking this, Song Mo gave the lame Taoist a look of respect.

The lame Taoist returned Song Mo's gaze with a glare, secretly thinking, "This boy seems hard to fool."

Zhao Yue Shu furrowed her brow and asked in a low voice, "A place that doesn't exist? What kind of place is that?"

The lame Taoist pondered for a moment before replying, "Actually, this place of nonexistence isn't as mysterious as you imagine. Let me give you some examples. We cultivators follow the path of four tiers and nine grades; above the celestial tier lies the realm of the Earth Immortal."

At this point, the lame Taoist sighed, tinged with sorrow, and said, "But the human world is limited. How many ever break through to achieve the Earth Immortal realm? In a thousand years of Great Zhou, only the Sword Immortal Li Guangbai succeeded. All others, no matter their exceptional talent and mastery, eventually succumb to the changes of time, age, and death. They spend their lives unable to cross the celestial gate."

The way of heaven is ruthless; several cultivators felt a pang of sympathy for the fate of their peers, while Song Mo and Xia Yu remained indifferent, their minds wandering to the promised feast of flower wine.

The lame Taoist collected himself, his tone becoming serious. "Some elders, sensing their end approaching, seek out a secret realm, leaving behind their life's learnings within, then disperse their cultivation and pass away peacefully. Over time, the secret realm becomes rich in spiritual energy, and the elder's cultivation naturally blocks divination."

Zhao Yue Shu, Little Mountain Lord, and Shu Mingli listened thoughtfully; in truth, this Mountain Mansion was less an illusion and more akin to a secret realm, making the three demons fully believe the lame Taoist's words.

"So, according to you, my father found fortune in misfortune and went to a secret realm to cultivate?" Little Mountain Lord asked after some consideration.

The lame Taoist shook his head and replied gravely, "That's possible, but I'm not finished. It's not just secret realms that can interfere with divination; there's another possibility that can make a place 'nonexistent.'"

"What possibility?" Little Mountain Lord inquired.

The lame Taoist's expression grew solemn, and he lowered his voice. "Chosen by heaven, one who possesses great fortune."

Song Mo couldn't help laughing at the lame Taoist's serious tone as he rambled on. He hadn't expected the Taoist to come out with the 'child of destiny' trope—truly amusing.

The lame Taoist glared at him in annoyance. Song Mo hurriedly waved his hands in explanation, "Sorry, sorry, I'm professionally trained—not to laugh unless I can't help it. Ha ha ha."

With this, even Little Mountain Lord and the others began to doubt the Taoist's words.

The lame Taoist, exasperated, cursed, "You know nothing! Those blessed by great fortune are shielded by heaven's secrets. Even a master diviner like Liu Hezi must pay a heavy price to possibly break through the heavenly veil and gain a glimpse."

"In that case, could Master Liu Hezi divine my father's exact whereabouts?" Zhao Yue Shu asked anxiously.

Thus, the lame Taoist, provoked by Song Mo, revealed the secrets of divination—only to be caught out by the keen-witted fox maiden Zhao Yue Shu.

"Well, in theory, yes," the lame Taoist stammered, unable to utter a complete sentence.

Zhao Yue Shu was puzzled, but Song Mo smiled and said, "I wager you're just drinking buddies. He wouldn't pay a heavy price to help you, would he?"

Song Mo's words exposed the truth—the Taoist had intentionally led them to Sheepsgut Mountain, making them suffer, and Song Mo was happy to see him flustered.

The lame Taoist, goaded, widened his eyes in anger. "Who says we're drinking buddies? We're bosom friends! Do you even know what that means?"

Song Mo curled his lip and said, "If that's so, why not ask Master Liu Hezi to divine Mountain Lord's whereabouts?"

The lame Taoist slapped his chest. "Fine, I'll ask—what's so difficult about that?"

After he spoke, Zhao Yue Shu, Shu Mingli, and even Little Mountain Lord looked at Song Mo with heartfelt gratitude.

Sometimes, flowers do not bloom when you plant them, but willows flourish when you do not intend it.

In the end, a good deed was done, helping them out.

The lame Taoist was sincere; provoked by Song Mo, he slapped his chest, and seeing the three demons grateful to Song Mo, felt bitter but could not speak.

Song Mo pressed on, "Revered Taoist, your expression isn't suggesting you intend to break your word, is it?"

The lame Taoist forced a bitter smile. "Of course not. It's just that Liu Hezi, that old rascal, spends his days wandering mountains and seas. Right now, I have no idea where he is."

Little Mountain Lord quickly said, "I'm willing to travel to the ends of the earth with you to find him. Even if Master Liu Hezi is at the edge of the world, I will seek him out to ask about my father's whereabouts."

"Wouldn't that be difficult for you, sir?" Song Mo asked deliberately, suppressing his laughter.

"Not at all, not at all. With the Shadow Demon by my side, I can rid myself of ill temper," the lame Taoist replied with a smile that was barely better than a grimace.

With the matter settled, everyone was delighted.

"Now that things are resolved, could Little Mountain Lord escort us and the Zhang family back to the Zhang Mansion?" Tang Yi interjected at the right moment.

"Of course," Little Mountain Lord replied joyfully, having received the Taoist's promise.

"The Shadow Demon's illusion is too slow. Why not let me send you on your way?" The lame Taoist suddenly grew interested.

"That would be excellent. Thank you, Taoist," Tang Yi replied.

Song Mo, though a little uneasy, followed the group's decision.

"Close your eyes for now. The wind is about to rise," the lame Taoist said calmly.

Song Mo, Tang Yi, and the others closed their eyes, and after a few breaths, they suddenly felt themselves become light as feathers, as if soaring in the air, with the sound of wind whistling past their ears.

Song Mo kept his eyes tightly shut. Suddenly, a hand rested on his shoulder, and he heard the lame Taoist say, "We're here, kid."

Without suspecting anything, Song Mo opened his eyes, and when he took in the scene before him, his soul nearly flew away.

He was standing atop a flying sword, wind roaring in his ears, clouds swirling wildly beneath his feet.

Below, the earth was not just hundreds of feet away—green mountains faded into the distance, villages looked like pieces on a board, roads like lines, the land itself a chessboard.

The setting sun stained the clouds crimson, casting crimson rays all around, and coloring Song Mo's face as well.

It wasn't the sunset that made his face red, but fright…

"Taoist, no—Tao Bro, no—Tao Lord, could we perhaps fly slower? I have heart trouble," Song Mo quavered to the lame Taoist behind him.

"What? Too slow? Got it!" The lame Taoist pointed his sword ahead, and the flying sword suddenly accelerated, far beyond a hundred and twenty miles an hour!

Fortunately, in less than half a stick of incense, the Taoist slowed and landed the sword.

The centuries-old Zhang Mansion was before them.

After another half stick of incense, the Zhang family woke, and the four henchmen knocked out by Little Mountain Lord also revived.

It took Zhang Xiao Guang half an hour to explain everything to his family. The Zhangs, having escaped disaster, became more open-minded, allowing Zhang Xiao Guang and Zhao Yue Shu to fulfill their union.

"Since the Zhang family's wealth was all ill-gotten, what's the harm in giving it away? Better to use what's left for a proper wedding for you two," the old patriarch Zhang Changlin declared, and the Zhang family was once again filled with joyful decorations.

Soon, Zhang Changlin found the lame Taoist hiding in the wine cellar.

"Taoist, you have a bond with my grandson, and you saved many in my family. May I boldly ask you to preside over the wedding?" Zhang Changlin said earnestly.

"The Tao does not meddle in worldly affairs—not appropriate," the lame Taoist waved his hand.

"But if you agree, I'll gift you ten jars of century-old wine," Zhang Changlin, wise with age, hit upon the Taoist's weakness.

"It's not about the wine, it's about discipline, about rules—do you understand?" the lame Taoist hesitated for a long time.

"A hundred jars, plus ten jars of newly brewed osmanthus wine," Zhang Changlin replied with a smile.

...