Inner Realm Expert?

Jiang Yi Zhen finished his daily cultivation, chanted scriptures to nourish his Qi, and slowly rose.

He lightly clacked his teeth, stepping out into the deserted space, his sleeves flowing freely.

His complexion was ruddy, like spring peach blossoms reflecting snow, his beard and hair white, like winter pines covered in frost, truly the appearance of an immortal who had attained the Dao.

Yet at this moment, he frowned slightly, his expression both heavy and serene, as if lamenting something.

He stood in the courtyard of Ting Ting Hermitage, looking up at the sturdy ancient tree, his mind filled with countless thoughts. To think that he, Jiang Yi Zhen, had sought truth his entire life, but his innate talent was merely mediocre, and he began cultivating the Dao too late. Now, his great limit was approaching.

Jiang Yi Zhen, from Wuyi Mountain, lost his parents in childhood and wandered the world. He ate from a hundred families, slept under the open sky, drifting in corners, living a hard life, but always finding joy amidst the hardship.

Because he had a brother who shared his joys and sorrows, named Wang Song Duan.

They were not blood brothers, but closer than kin.

They worked as craftsmen together, fought together, were chased together, and were also taken as disciples by the same master.

Jiang Yi Zhen still remembered, that year he was sixteen, and Wang Song Duan was fifteen.

They learned to read together, chopped wood and fetched water together; they studied the Dao together, performed rites for the deceased, and conducted rituals together.

Their master passed away first, leaving only the two of them as disciples, so the position of abbot naturally passed to Jiang Yi Zhen. From then on, the two walked hand in hand, enduring many years of hardship. During the Jingtai Era, they repaired the Guan Yu temple once.

Looking back now, that was nearly fifty years ago.

"Ai..."

He sighed deeply.

Time flew by, like a fleeting moment, leaving one with endless lament.

However, the heavens have unpredictable winds and rains, and people have fortunes and misfortunes.

Wang Song Duan, during a ritual, encountered a martial arts duel among jianghu figures, was unfortunately caught in the crossfire, and died in a foreign land.

He was deeply grieved, a blazing anger ignited in his heart, and he swore to avenge his brother.

However, he clearly knew that he had never cultivated martial arts; he was powerless. Even if he started practicing martial arts at that moment, he was already nearing forty, having missed the best opportunity.

With his overwhelming grief and indignation having nowhere to vent, and his sorrow suppressed, Jiang Yi Zhen made a decision: he would no longer go out to perform rituals, but would instead focus on studying Daoist techniques. He understood that he had no other way to obtain profound martial arts, only by searching for a path within the scriptures left by the patriarchs.

Unexpectedly, this focused research brought hope. Within the patriarch's "Great Dao Song," Jiang Yi Zhen deduced some Daoist health preservation techniques.

Day by day, as he cultivated, a miracle quietly occurred.

His body gradually radiated vitality, his originally sluggish steps became soft and agile, and the rheumatism, numbness, and other ailments that used to plague his joints gradually left him.

When he felt he could stab those villains, he learned that they had long since died from jianghu revenge. For a time, Jiang Yi Zhen felt a sense of "drawing his sword, his heart confused."

Since the villains were dead, Jiang Yi Zhen decided to make the preservation of the patriarch's Daoist lineage his top priority. That scrawny beggar child, dodging left and right in the crowd, was in a sorry state.

The scene before him was like a mirror, reflecting Jiang Yi Zhen's past self.

Jiang Yi Zhen saved the beggar child. The child said his name was Hou Er, because everyone called him that, saying he was usually as lively and nimble as a monkey.

Jiang Yi Zhen looked at the child before him, a trace of pity rising in his heart, and said: "From now on, you are my disciple. Your grand-master hoped that I, your master, would seek truth my entire life, hence the name 'Yi Zhen' (One Truth). I began cultivating the Dao late; my life is thus. I only wish that you reach ultimate goodness, and the Great Dao shines brightly. From today onwards, you shall be called Fang Dao Ming!"

Now, that Hou Er of yesteryear, now Fang Dao Ming, had grown into a youth, and in a few more years, he would reach adulthood.

Because he had cultivated Daoist techniques under Jiang Yi Zhen's tutelage since childhood, now, compared to his master, he only lacked the experience accumulated over the years and a certain level of mastery.

He should still have two or three years left in this mortal world. He should use this time to pass on some of his most treasured knowledge to him, so that after he departs, this Daoist lineage will not be broken in his hands.

Jiang Yi Zhen was immersed in his recollections of the past. At this moment, a handsome young Daoist hurried over, his steps urgent.

Jiang Yi Zhen raised his eyes, looked at the young Daoist, and softly asked: "It's Xiao Ming, why so hurried? This is not like your usual cautious demeanor."

This young Daoist was Fang Dao Ming. He panted slightly, trying to calm himself, and said: "Master, a descendant of the Ziyang lineage has come to visit."

Jiang Yi Zhen heard this, his brows furrowed, his voice carrying a hint of doubt: "Zhu Xun? What is he doing here?"

Although he and Zhu Xun lived as neighbors, they didn't have much interaction.

After all, one was a descendant of Master Zhu, of noble status, while he and his disciple were both from beggar origins, fundamentally not people on the same path.

Fang Dao Ming said: "Master, it's not Master Ziyang's descendant, but a descendant of the Ziyang lineage."

This time, Fang Dao Ming specifically emphasized the four words "Ziyang lineage." Jiang Yi Zhen looked at his disciple in confusion, "The Ziyang lineage, isn't that..."

Suddenly, Jiang Yi Zhen thought of something, his eyes blazing with spiritual light, his expression unable to hide his excitement, staring intently at his disciple.

"Xiao Ming, are you saying... a descendant of the Southern School's Zhang Ziyang Daoist lineage has come to visit our mountain?"

Fang Dao Ming nodded heavily: "Precisely."

Jiang Yi Zhen heard this and repeatedly said: "Good, good! Quickly go invite them in.
No, no, if it's an honored guest, this humble Daoist should personally go to welcome them."

He finished speaking, turned to leave, but then suddenly stopped.

Turning back, he instructed Fang Dao Ming: "Xiao Ming, quickly have someone prepare tea and pastries. You come with me."

Fang Dao Ming respectfully replied: "Yes, Master."

Jiang Yi Zhen pushed open the large gate of Ting Ting Hermitage, and immediately saw a green-robed Daoist. In fact, there were two people standing outside the gate, but the presence of one of them was simply too intense.

Like the crimson sun in broad daylight, dazzling and blinding.

Compared to him, Lin Ping Zhi, although also possessing a heroic demeanor, had his presence instantly diminished by the aura of Tai Yuan.

Jiang Yi Zhen's heart trembled, his feet unconsciously stumbled a step, almost unable to stand firm. He widened his eyes, his pupils suddenly contracting, as if he had seen something incredible.

His throat felt as if something was blocking it, his voice trembling and hoarse: "Inner... Inner Realm!!!" He had cultivated the Dao for many years; although he had not stepped into the Inner Realm, he was not ignorant of this realm.

This green-robed Daoist in front of him exuded an endless, vast aura, profound as the heavens, as if he had merged with heaven and earth.

This realm was the Inner Realm, which he yearned for but could never reach.

"Inner Realm? Is he an Inner Realm expert?" Fang Dao Ming was also immensely shocked.

Although he had heard his master mention the Inner Realm, he had never seen it with his own eyes.