Chapter Fifteen: A Thread of Destiny

Juntian Monastery? That sounds so familiar. Where have I heard it before?

In the next moment, Wang Ling nearly jumped to his feet.

That unfortunate transmigrator Zhen Yunzi, who had been killed by the authorities, seemed to have mentioned that he was a disciple of Juntian Monastery!

Could this be the same Juntian Monastery?

Surely it couldn’t be such a coincidence?

Though it seemed improbable, Wang Ling couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, this place was inevitably connected to the Juntian Monastery Zhen Yunzi had spoken of.

The thought left him dazed—he decided to search for more evidence to either confirm or refute his suspicion...

He approached the wall to his left, where a row of bookshelves stood, filled with all manner of texts: some written on cloth or paper, some on wood or bamboo slips, others carved onto tortoise shells or bronze vessels.

The variety was staggering.

Wang Ling picked up a book at random and read the title: The Ten Directions Illusory Golden Elixir Record.

This seemed to be a secret cultivation manual.

Could he have truly entered an immortal’s abode?

He reached for another, which was titled The Dragon-Tiger Edict of Myriad Truths.

There were others too: The True Spirit Diagram of Ninefold Primordials, The Pearl Pill Method of the Gouli Unity, and so on—every one of them contained profound and esoteric techniques.

Yet above the bookshelf, a line had been inscribed: “Alas, times have changed, the great Way no longer prevails. These treasured tomes remain, clinging to fragments of the past—what use are they now?”

Wang Ling couldn’t help but pull a strange face.

It was a simple truth, really—ordinary people did not understand what Daoist sorcery was, but they could liken it to something else: most Daoist arts were, in fact, divine techniques.

The highest practitioners drew upon the power of gods, the middling relied on ancestral masters, and the lower ones borrowed from ghosts and spirits. Of course, there were those who cultivated inner alchemy through their own strength, but that was another matter.

In short, if the beings you invoked for your magic were gone, what use were the spells that remained?

So, Wang Ling was not surprised by the sentiment left behind.

In his previous life, he’d leafed through the Daoist Canon and seen early scriptures from the Wei, Jin, Sui, and Tang dynasties—most of what was recorded there was no longer applicable...

Even the Taichu Dragon-Tiger Grand Elixir Thunder Method he had studied in his past life had required much adaptation after his reincarnation, many aspects no longer suitable.

Through slow experimentation and comparison with the techniques of this world, Wang Ling had finally managed to adjust his methods to fit his cultivation here.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have waited so many years before his soul could first depart his body.

Moreover, now that he possessed the peerless Taichu Dragon-Tiger Grand Elixir Thunder Method and cultivated primarily the Celestial Cycle of a Hundred Divine Stars, the rest of these texts were, at best, useful for reference.

Thus, though he found these books now useless, Wang Ling did not feel too much regret.

But then he discovered at least several dozen magical implements: talismans, command tokens, rods of authority, gourds, and more.

All had lost their spiritual energy, some were even damaged beyond repair, and a pang of sorrow struck him.

“What a pity, what a pity! These are all magical implements—and of the highest quality—some nearly counted as magical treasures...”

In his past life, acquiring such items had been extremely difficult.

Yet now, dozens of them lay before him, seemingly ripe for the taking!

But with their spiritual seals dissipated, they were all useless.

It was as if someone had placed a pile of banknotes before you, but they were all obsolete, withdrawn from circulation, and worthless.

Just imagining it, one could feel Wang Ling’s anguish.

There was another inscription: “Alas, treasures gather dust, swords are rusted—how sorrowful!”

He searched further and found several empty shelves.

The labels remained, but the items were gone.

Once they must have held rare materials and miraculous elixirs, but not a single one was left.

Again, someone had left a note, the tone equally full of regret.

In sum, Wang Ling had entered a mountain of treasures, only to find that all the valuables had been taken, leaving behind only what could not be removed...

Who could avoid spitting blood from such frustration?

“I thought my luck had finally turned, but in the end, not a single benefit is left for me...”

Upon reflection, if the Zhen Yunzi who claimed to be from Juntian Monastery was truly from this very place,

Then it made sense—when he transmigrated, he’d brought no powerful magical implements with him.

Was this indeed the Juntian Monastery that Zhen Yunzi spoke of?

The thought made Wang Ling restless, and he hurried to search for any method that might let him return to his own world.

But no matter how thoroughly he searched, not a single record of such a method could be found among these secret tomes!

“Wait—why are all these collected cultivation manuals from other sects, but there are none from Juntian Monastery itself?”

The realization dawned on him.

He searched the cave residence carefully for some time, and finally discovered what had been hidden in plain sight.

Beneath the ancestral tablets of Juntian Monastery’s patriarchs sat a thick stack of books.

Wang Ling opened them, and the first line he saw read: “The number of the Great Cycle is fifty, yet its use is forty-nine. As technology thrives, the path of cultivation is severed. Yet Heaven is merciful, leaving a sliver of hope, so that our Way might endure...”

Finishing the letter, Wang Ling’s expression grew increasingly strange.

He muttered to himself, “So that’s it, so that’s it!”

It turned out this letter had been left by an elder patriarch of Juntian Monastery for future generations.

It told how, more than a century before, the patriarch had foreseen the changing of laws and the dissipation of spiritual energy. This world was no longer favorable for cultivation!

Thus, with supreme power, their patriarch had carved out a single chance for survival for Juntian Monastery.

That chance was to transmigrate into the world of spirits and gods where Wang Ling now dwelled, so that the Daoist lineage could persist and cultivation continue.

But for reasons unknown, the disciples of Juntian Monastery did not act upon this plan.

Not until spiritual energy in this world was utterly exhausted did the last successor, Zhen Yunzi, finally use the method passed down by the patriarch and cross over.

Yet, poor Zhen Yunzi had the misfortune of being killed by the authorities in that other world almost immediately after his arrival...

Of course, all this was what Wang Ling pieced together from the contents of the letter and his own knowledge.

He believed that, even if it wasn’t the whole truth, it could not be far off.

For the book seemed to be a chronicle of Juntian Monastery’s history, and at the very end, someone had written: “I shall cross over and seek fortune, that my Way may flourish far and wide...”

The signature at the end was Zhen Yunzi.