Lord of the Supreme Mystery Dao
In the southwestern mountains lies the Daoist Sect, renowned for its Treasure Cliff, which holds more innate spiritual treasures than anywhere else in the world. In Yunyang City at the heart of the Central Plains stands an academy, three stories tall, revered as the sacred sanctuary for all scholars. To the north, the Sword Immortal City boasts a sword tomb filled with countless celestial blades, their sword auras soaring to the heavens. In the western realm of Lingzhou, a group of elderly monks, accompanied by a young novice, appeared—the child pointed one finger to the sky and one to the earth, smiling serenely as he twirled a flower in his hand. Wandering knights hail from the vast domains of the Great Tang... Chang’an City is their home. They uphold justice, drink with sword immortals, join Daoist priests in exorcising demons, and, after slaying a few great fiends, imitate the monks of Spirit Mountain by laughing and softly chanting Amitabha. After awakening, Shen Yu entered the southwestern mountains and came to the Daoist Sect, once more embarking on the path of cultivation that he had already ascended to its peak three thousand years ago. The Savage Demon Emperor. The female sword immortal who thrice opened the Heavenly Gate with her sword but did not enter. The academy genius, whose poetry is unmatched in all the world. The Buddha’s child beneath the Bodhi tree, unrivaled in his pride. Shen Yu gently patted the little girl’s head and smiled. “They still haven’t forced me to unleash my second Daoist art…”
Lord of the Supreme Mystery Dao
Year Nine of Qianyuan, Grain Rain.
At the gates of the Dao Sect, a long table had been set, bearing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Ding Yi sat idly in his chair, looking rather bored.
These were the days of the Dao Sect’s decennial entrance examination for new disciples. Menial tasks such as keeping records inevitably fell to fourth-generation disciples like him, whose cultivation was lacking.
He heard footsteps approaching. Without looking up, Ding Yi casually picked up a brush from the rack and dipped it in ink.
“Name?”
“Shen Yu.”
“Place of origin?”
“I don’t remember.”
Ding Yi paused, clearly displeased, and lifted his head.
The newcomer wore a blue robe. At first, the voice had sounded low and steady, but to his surprise, it belonged to a young man. The youth’s features were delicate, almost refined, yet what stood out most were his eyes—so calm and tranquil that they bordered on indifference.
Ding Yi scribbled a random place name onto the paper and said, “Follow the stone path ahead—that’s where the examination is held.”
...
By the waterside pavilion where the examination took place, an ancient bronze mirror stood upright on a stone platform.
From time to time, individuals would step forward to touch the mirror, which would then emit lights of various colors, though most were blue-green.
Shen Yu sighed softly to himself. After all these years, they were still using such flawed methods.
“Shang Yingluo!” called a middle-aged man in white from within the pavilion. In the crowd, a
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