The Mountain of the Noble Man

The Southern Jambu Continent.

A carriage drawn by a mythical beast soared through the skies, gliding effortlessly as if on solid ground, its speed astonishing and its spiritual energy fluctuations deliberately unconcealed.

Naturally, there were cultivators who could sense the blatant surge of spiritual energy, frowning slightly as they turned their gaze toward the disturbance.

This region was already close to the borders of the Central Continent—one could almost consider it half a part of it.

Did the occupants of this carriage truly believe they were still in some remote backwater, where the unspoken etiquette of aerial travel could be ignored?

Yet, the moment they caught sight of the speeding carriage, they swiftly averted their eyes, not daring to look further, and even their initial complaints instantly died away.

In fact, they began to feel it was only natural, as it should be.

Perhaps it was because the carriage was extravagantly ornate, the beast pulling it of exceptional quality—every detail exuding the status of its owner.

Naturally, it was more likely due to the small but glaring banner fluttering atop the carriage—the insignia of the Tianyan Sect.

As one of the eighteen immortal sects of the Central Continent, even if they were riding atop people instead of beasts, one could only say it was the Central Continent’s high-class eccentricity, something beyond ordinary comprehension.

What spiritual energy fluctuations? What flight etiquette? Such things were merely the dignified bearing befitting a top-tier immortal sect!

If they themselves belonged to the Tianyan Sect, they’d surely put on an even grander display!

This carriage had been borrowed by Li Yingling from the Tianyan Sect, for very straightforward reasons.

First, it was undeniably faster than traveling on foot, and it spared them exhaustion—given the urgency of the matter, speed was of the essence.

Second, when it came to saving someone, there was no room for dramatic buildup.

If they waited until the critical moment to reveal their identity, there was always the risk that the other party, thinking, “Things have already gone this far—to hell with it, let’s just finish this,” might actually go through with it. Then everything would truly be over.

What they needed to do was play their strongest card right from the start, entering the scene early. Even if the opposing side could win, they’d have to weigh whether they dared to.

Moreover, a higher status granted greater room for maneuvering—shifting from the position of interpreting others’ intentions to forcing others to interpret yours.

The difference between the two was like night and day.

Chen Baiqing led this operation, with Lin Luoyu and Cui Hao under her command.

She pushed aside the carriage curtain, her gaze locking onto the Gentleman Mountain not far ahead.

The structures of Gentleman Mountain were far from the opulence of immortal sects. At a glance, the most one could praise was their simplicity.

Dense clusters of buildings nearly covered the entire peak.

Every visible inch of Gentleman Mountain that could accommodate a structure had one built upon it, the only unifying feature being the whitewashed walls.

Clearly, as its reputation grew, so too did the foot traffic on Gentleman Mountain.

At this point, architectural style and design were likely afterthoughts—livability was all that mattered.

From a distance, the only sight on Gentleman Mountain that might catch the eye was the solitary structure at its summit.

It was the only building not painted white.

Occupying the largest area at the peak was a grand square hall with yellow-glazed tiles, its central courtyard dominated by an enormous bamboo-book sculpture carved from white jade.

Cui Hao, noticing his third senior sister’s gaze, also pushed aside the curtain to look before speaking up:

“That’s the Sage Hall of Gentleman Mountain. Legend says it houses the literary treasures, relics, and handwritten scrolls of the Sage.”

Chen Baiqing let the curtain fall, her tone indifferent. “The dead don’t count.”

Cui Hao turned to look at his third senior sister, finding her expression calm, as though she had merely stated something utterly mundane.

But those words…

To Cui Hao’s ears, they carried a hint of arrogance he wouldn’t dare replicate.

His feelings toward Confucianism were lukewarm at best, yet even he wouldn’t speak so flippantly of the Sage.

To humanity, the Sage was more than just an author of timeless classics—someone to be admired.

The Sage had pushed the boundaries of literature and philosophy forward by leaps and bounds. Though the Sage could not live for millennia, their ideas could endure for centuries, influencing countless individuals and dynasties.

Those ideas had tangibly improved the lives of common folk.

Cui Hao had once read the Sage’s works and found himself in awe of how, in an era of darkness, the Sage alone had blazed like a solitary torch.

Then, with every ounce of strength, they ignited the barbaric age, returning reason to the masses.

It wasn’t that those who held such ideas could become the Sage—only those who succeeded earned the title.

Since ancient times, countless had died on the path to sainthood.

Though some of the Sage’s teachings might not hold entirely true today, they were hardly something to be dismissed as lightly as Third Senior Sister had done.

Cui Hao didn’t respond. His third senior sister was young, had never studied Confucianism, and was a cultivator besides.

To her, the Sage was merely a mortal who’d walked a lesser path, now centuries buried.

The Sage held no sway over cultivators.

Lin Luoyu’s expression was similarly complicated, though her eyes betrayed more worry than anything else.

On Gentleman Mountain, there were those who had already spotted the approaching beast-drawn carriage and recognized the fluttering banner of the Tianyan Sect.

Being so close to the Central Continent, they understood better than most the overwhelming presence of the only true path of the current era—the immortal dao.

Especially when it came to the eighteen immortal sects of the Central Continent, the reverence they commanded was no less than that afforded to the Sage.

Though Confucian scholars had little interaction with cultivators, that didn’t mean they were ignorant of whose fists were the mightiest in this world.

They loved books, but they weren’t suicidal.

An elderly man with white hair and beard raised his brush, sweeping it through the air to conjure an ink-paved path beneath his feet.

Stepping onto it, he shot forward at incredible speed before cupping his hands toward the carriage in greeting:

“Might I ask what business the immortals of the Tianyan Sect have in visiting Gentleman Mountain?”

The beasts pulling the carriage, bred and trained by the Tianyan Sect, were no ordinary animals—they possessed spiritual awareness and required no guidance to know propriety.

The carriage gradually slowed before coming to a halt before the old man.

Chen Baiqing was the first to step out, standing atop the carriage as she swept her gaze over the bowing elder. Without answering, she instead posed a question of her own:

“Is Li Junzi currently on Gentleman Mountain?”

The elder straightened, his eyes shifting from Chen Baiqing to Cui Hao and Lin Luoyu as they emerged from the carriage.

Li Junzi had once sent a formal invitation to Gentleman Mountain, though they had failed to appear when the time came.

Thus, the elder was well aware of Li Junzi’s background—and had never heard of any connection between them and the Tianyan Sect, one of the eighteen immortal sects.

But now that matters had come to this, dwelling on the past was pointless.

Regardless of the Tianyan Sect’s purpose here, the fact that they were asking after Li Junzi spelled trouble for Gentleman Mountain, whether they came as friend or foe.

The elder nodded. “Indeed, they are currently on the mountain, preparing for the third round of scholarly debate. Might I ask if you esteemed immortals are here for Li Junzi?”

Chen Baiqing replied coolly, “Not entirely. But for now, we’d appreciate your guidance.”

By now, every scholar on Gentleman Mountain had their eyes fixed on the mythical beast carriage, watching as their academy’s headmaster stood alone before the cultivators of the Tianyan Sect.

The elder acquiesced readily. “Of course. However, Gentleman Mountain prohibits carriages and aerial travel within its grounds. Might I ask the immortals to proceed on foot?”

Cui Hao glanced at Chen Baiqing, worried his third senior sister might refuse outright—this was, after all, the same person who’d declared, “The dead don’t count.”

Chen Baiqing’s tone remained even.

“Since it’s the rule, we’ll comply.”

Cui Hao also breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this. If they ended up clashing with someone before even entering Gentleman Mountain...