Chapter One: The Young Celestial Master

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At Dragon-Tiger Mountain, the forbidding summit of Celestial Gate Peak soared, stretching between heaven and earth. At the mountain’s crest, countless silver flocks soared and split the sky, filling the horizon. But upon closer inspection, these birds were not creatures of flesh and feather, but flocks composed of pure lightning.

A piercing, avian cacophony filled the air as silver bolts interwove, the electric current shrieking like a thousand birds calling at once—a symphony of a thousand birds in chorus.

Beneath the “thousand birds,” seated cross-legged atop a strange, brown stone disc, sat a young Daoist priest, his entire form wreathed in dazzling bolts of lightning.

This young Daoist was Zhang Zhiwei, deep in cultivation of the Heavenly Master’s most secret art of Dragon-Tiger Mountain—the True Law of the Five Thunders.

Zhang Zhiwei gazed upward at the sky, filled with darting silver birds. These lightning-formed creatures were vivid and lifelike, flickering with blinding brilliance.

Lightning coursed over Zhang Zhiwei’s body, yet did not so much as scorch his clothing, a testament to his mastery over the Yang Five Thunders.

He extended his hand, and a bird formed of pure electricity alighted in his palm.

Zhang Zhiwei studied the bird intently; every detail was perfect, down to the fine patterns of its feathers. Yet the longer he stared, the more the details blurred, until finally all semblance of structure dissolved, leaving only a formless mass of lightning in the vague shape of a bird, all intricacy lost.

“A restless mind, thoughts running wild, illusions upon illusions—the more I practice, the more agitated I become!”

He closed his hand, snuffing out the electric bird.

With a sweep of his arm, all the silver birds vanished in arcs of lightning, the sky once again clear.

“The True Law of the Five Thunders—so named for the ‘five thunders,’ but in truth, it refers to the five vital energies. At birth, innate energies reside within the body; upon close examination, they divide into the five elements.”

“Pure yang governs fire, known as the heart’s energy; within yang, a trace of yin governs metal, the energy of the lungs; pure yin governs water, the energy of the kidneys; within yin, a trace of yang governs wood, the energy of the liver; the harmony of yin and yang governs earth, the energy of the spleen. When these five energies unite, the method is known as the True Law of the Five Thunders!”

“I practice the Yang Five Thunders, that is, the Scarlet Palace Thunder, which draws forth the energy of fire from the heart to nurture the metal energy of the lungs. Its hallmark is unrestrained, overwhelming force.”

“Yet lately, it seems my force has become too fierce; each session leaves me irritable and restless!”

“My master once said, this agitation is a bottleneck encountered at higher levels of the Yang Five Thunders—the stage of the ‘restless mind’.”

“At this stage, the power of the Yang Five Thunders reaches its peak, unmatched in its ferocity, like the Monkey King wreaking havoc in Heaven—invincible, yet difficult to control.”

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“To rein in this unruly ‘monkey’ within my heart and break through to a new realm, my master says I must travel, seek experience, become a wandering pilgrim, and comprehend the meaning of emptiness. Then, the Yang Five Thunders will reach perfection!”

“To travel, to experience—am I to endure eighty-one tribulations like the Monkey King in Journey to the West?”

“It sounds mysterious and is just as mysterious in practice. But come to think of it, this is the first true bottleneck I’ve encountered in the ten years since I crossed over.”

Zhang Zhiwei stood atop the mountain, lightning crowning his head, murmuring to himself.

Yes, that’s right—Zhang Zhiwei was a transmigrator.

Ten years prior, he had crossed over to this world.

At first, he thought it merely a coincidence of names. But as he became aware of the vital energy within him, and found a junior disciple named Tian Jinzhong, and a master named Zhang Jingqing, he realized he had crossed into the world of “The Outcast,” becoming the young version of the Celestial Master himself.

Upon learning he would one day become the unrivaled Taoist of the world, Zhang Zhiwei’s enthusiasm for cultivation soared—he dove into study with the fervor of a true overachiever.

For ten years, he pushed himself relentlessly.

Gifted from the start and now so diligent, Zhang Zhiwei had grown tremendously powerful. Though still some way from the invincible heights described in the story, among the younger generation he was peerless, and could even vie with many of the older established masters.

“The restless mind—the heart is the Monkey King himself, and that monkey is not so easily subdued!”

“Haste makes waste; perhaps it’s best to slow my progress with the Yang Five Thunders and focus on the Golden Light Incantation, refining body and spirit.”

He closed his eyes and resumed his practice, seated cross-legged on the strange stone atop the peak, a golden radiance flowing over his body.

This was his daily, unshakable regimen. As the saying goes, a thousand-foot tower rises from flat ground—the refinement of one’s essence was foundational.

Each time he meditated, he would silently recite the Golden Light Incantation, reviewing his knowledge, probing for any flaws in his cultivation of body and spirit.

“Senior Brother! Senior Brother!”

At that moment, a young Daoist in blue robes called out as he clambered up the mountain, nimble as a monkey.

Zhang Zhiwei suppressed his golden light, ending his meditation, and offered a word of caution as he glanced at the newcomer:

“Slow down, Xiao Tian. Watch your step, or you’ll end up crippled—and I won’t be pushing your wheelchair!”

Tian Jinzhong scrambled onto the summit, panting, and protested indignantly:

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“Hey, hey, hey, Senior Brother, are you cursing me? Who does that?”

“Of course not!” Zhang Zhiwei stood, ruffling his junior’s hair with gusto. “I’m only looking out for you!”

He was a few years older than Tian Jinzhong—seventeen now, nearly eighteen. His body was fully grown, standing almost one meter ninety, making him every inch the elder brother.

Stunned by the rough affection, Tian Jinzhong eyed his tall, strapping senior and secretly resolved to eat an extra bowl of rice at every meal from now on.

The brief interlude was quickly forgotten. Tian Jinzhong said, “Senior Brother, Master is looking for you!”

“Did he say why?” Zhang Zhiwei asked.

“No, but do you think it’s because we snuck off to eat beef?” Tian Jinzhong replied, a little guiltily. Daoists of the Orthodox School weren’t as strict as those of the Complete Perfection School, but there were still four forbidden foods—beef among them.

“He’s calling for me, not for us, so how could it be about the beef? Besides, when did we ever go eat beef? Xiao Tian, it’s one thing to talk in your sleep at night, but now you’re daydreaming in broad daylight? That’s not good!”

With that, Zhang Zhiwei flicked his sleeve, and a path of golden light unfurled at his feet, paving a shining road down the sheer cliff as he descended in stately fashion.

Tian Jinzhong was dumbfounded at the sight, murmuring to himself:

“Golden light at one’s command, shaping energy at will—Senior Brother’s mastery of the Golden Light Incantation rivals some of the senior masters.”

Watching his senior’s figure recede into the distance, Tian Jinzhong quickly came to his senses, hopping about in agitation atop the summit and shouting:

“Hey, Senior Brother, wait for me! Don’t withdraw the golden light so fast—let me try walking down on the golden path too!”

“Slow down! It’s easier to climb up than down. You don’t want your junior brother to wind up crippled, do you? You’d be stuck pushing my wheelchair every day…”

At this time, Tian Jinzhong was still whole of limb, a lively imp on Dragon-Tiger Mountain and his senior’s devoted follower.

On the cliff, Zhang Zhiwei smiled, slowed his pace, and maintained the golden staircase, waiting for Tian Jinzhong.

After all, one mustn’t tempt fate lightly!