Chapter One: The Family

When Wang Zhenling arrived at the Gate of Ascension, tucked deep within the mountains, all he saw was an ordinary, smooth rock face. It was called the Gate of Ascension, yet it appeared ordinary because it had long since lost its power to act as a gateway.

It was, however, striking in its smoothness, as if it had been meticulously carved and polished like a mirror. To Wang Zhenling’s eyes, it looked as though an unparalleled master had struck it with a single, long-sword stroke, cleaving the rock face into this state.

"Few people ever come around here..."

Looking at the overgrown, tangled weeds in the valley, it was clear that few people still visited this Gate of Ascension. After all, it had been nearly twenty years since it had last opened. According to the memories of the disciple from the Snake Sha Sect who had traversed these worlds, Wang Zhenling knew that about three or four years had passed since they had crossed over into the Dongchen World. This meant the flow of time in this world was at least five or six times faster than in the Dongchen World.

"With my current cultivation, I can't discern anything unusual about this gate... I had hoped to encounter other practitioners from this world nearby, but after wandering here for three or four days, I haven't seen a soul."

Disappointed, Wang Zhenling recalled the memories of the Snake Sha Sect's location he had gleaned from the disciple. Perhaps he could pay the sect a visit! However, the sect was quite far away and located in another country. Having already spent a significant amount of time in this world, he decided it would be better to explore it on his next visit.

With a faint smile, he confirmed he was alone, then vanished, returning to the Juntian Grotto-Heaven. The Grotto-Heaven was an independent space that did not rely on the Juntian Temple for its existence. Compared to a high-energy realm like the Dongchen World, time in this technological world seemed to flow much more slowly. Having spent over a month here, Wang Zhenling found that only three or four days had passed upon his return to the township office. This contradicted his calculations based on the disciple’s memories, but he vaguely understood that the temporal flow between two worlds could not be perfectly synchronized.

Returning to the Dongchen World, a sense of profound disparity washed over him—not just regarding time, but regarding his own station. In that Dharma-ending world, he could command the winds and clouds, destroying his enemies with a mere laugh. Yet, back in the Dongchen World, he was merely a low-level township official in the vast Great Cheng Empire.

At that moment, Wang Zhenling finally understood the sentiment behind Li Bai’s lines: "How can I bow and scrape before the powerful, and deny myself the joy of a sincere heart?" Having just dreamt of roaming the heavenly mountains and soaring through the azure void with immortals, returning to a cold reality made such feelings inevitable.

Opening the window, a thought struck him: "The plum blossoms on Little Mei Mountain must be in full bloom by now, right?"

The courtyard gate, which had been sealed for days, creaked open, startling those in the outer courtyard. They rushed out to look. "Master Wang has come out!"

It seemed it had snowed again; although it had stopped, the accumulation was deep. Wang Zhenling nodded slightly to the group, and one quick-witted servant asked, "Master Wang, you’ve been studying behind closed doors for days—are you hungry? I shall boil you some food at once! We bought some fine Solomon’s Seal at the market, which would be perfect for porridge."

"Then I shall trouble you," Wang Zhenling replied casually. "Go about your business. I was just feeling a bit stifled after being cooped up for days, so I thought I’d go for a stroll to clear my mind."

Despite his words, someone attentively brought over wooden clogs for him to wear. This flurry of service disrupted his sudden desire to visit Little Mei Mountain to see the plum blossoms. He decided to just walk around the vicinity instead. After a short stroll, he turned to Wang Hu, who was trailing behind him, and said, "Let's go back; it's cold."

Wang Hu, who had been standing there rubbing his hands and hunching his shoulders, was overjoyed. He scrambled to lead the way back to the township office.

The snow began to fall again. It continued until the following year, nearly causing Wang Zhenling to miss the most important ancestral rites of the Wang clan. Ancestral worship was a grave matter—a matter of state, for "the great affairs of a nation are its sacrifices and its wars." For a family, the most important event was the ancestral rite. Therefore, no matter how heavy the snow or how great the distance, one had to attend.

This year, the rites for the Danling Wang clan were particularly grand, for one of their ancestors had become the City God of Danling. This was the bedrock of the Wang clan’s future; as long as the City God held his position, the clan would not decline.

Attending the rites, Wang Zhenling realized his status within the clan had risen significantly. One reason was his position as the influential Magistrate of Guangyang Township, with a promising future ahead. The other, which could not be spoken aloud, was his contribution to his ancestor becoming the City God.

Unbeknownst to him, his status now trailed only behind the clan leader and the elders. Watching the joy and excitement of the clan, he saw that this event had given everyone hope. The fortune of the Wang clan, which had been white with streaks of red, now showed more red and less white. Especially at the core, wisps of red radiated outward—this was the power of the City God. It was easy to foresee that once the clan’s fortune turned entirely red, they would rise to become a prominent clan of the commandery.

There were levels to these things: local bullies, county magnates, commandery notables, prestigious houses, ducal families, and great aristocratic clans. Local bullies and county magnates were merely petty tyrants who found it difficult even to produce an official. A commandery notable, however, reached a new level, ensuring that every generation produced officials. A prestigious house was even more powerful, possessing great wealth and influence, with members serving as provincial and commandery officials in every generation. A ducal family was the pinnacle, having produced three excellencies within three generations.

Yet, even these were nothing compared to the great aristocratic clans. In theory, these clans were only slightly weaker than the reigning imperial family. Dynasties might last only a few hundred years, but thousand-year aristocratic clans were everywhere. The Danling Wang clan had previously been mere county magnates, not even considered a "gentlemanly clan" in the past; at most, they were commoners, the sort who could not intermarry with the nobility. The Hezhong Chen clan, by contrast, was a true, top-tier aristocratic family.

Compared to them, the Danling Wang clan still had a long way to go. Before long, however, Wang Zhenling began to harbor secret complaints and deep disappointment toward his own boss, Chen Bushi of the Hezhong Chen clan.