Legend of the Great Sage

tain path, spiralling off the cliff.
Even though he knew he would be fine, he could not help but be utterly frightened.
Just when he was about to hit the bottom, the surroundings suddenly twisted and changed.
With another glance, he had returned to the bottom of the mountain.
The group of Qi Practitioners waiting there all looked at him in disdain.

He called out, “I refuse to accept this! I was blown off by the wind.
With my cultivation at the third layer, how can I possibly fend off the protective formation of the school of Daoism?”

“The more perturbed you are mentally, the stronger the winds and the narrower the path becomes.
You can’t even control your fears when you knew it’s all an illusion, yet you still want to practise daoism? Piss off,” a voice boomed out.
It was the slovenly daoist priest.

Hua Chenglu curled her lip.
“You’re clearly just useless.
My elder brother said that if you can ease your nerves and control your mind, even regular people can make it to the end of the path.
Sigh, I wonder if Zijian is fine.”

The Qi Practitioner finally became defeated.
He originated from a small clan.
With his cultivation, he was regarded as a genius in the clan, and he was protected like a treasure.
Never had he experienced any danger, so even his legs had almost given way from the fright earlier, which was why he slipped and fell.

However, this principle did not seem to apply to Li Qingshan very much at all.

His gaze was calm, and his steps were steady.
Having gone through so many battles to the death already, the path failed to invoke any fear in him.
However, the path just happened to grow narrower and narrower, and the wind blew harder and more chaotically.

He remained unfazed.
His body would sway with the wind as he advanced at a steady pace.
He admired the rare scenery to his two sides.
He was as leisurely as a mountaineering tourist.

Towards the end, he was basically walking along a thin wall that stood tens of thousand meters tall, but it was still more than enough for him.
He looked around as he thought, The school of Daoism’s test really does have some difficulty about it.

The slovenly daoist priest saw this.
He sneered.
“Brat, let’s see how long you last.”

With a thought, large droplets of rain began to fall down from overhead.
The path became slippery and even more difficult to walk on.
Suddenly, there was a boom of thunder, so close that it was basically above his head.
Regular people would probably trip from fright even if they were on flat ground.

The slovenly daoist priest snickered.
He shifted his gaze onto someone else.

Sweat gathered on the tip of Yu Zijian’s nose.
She bore Hua Chenglu’s reminder in mind as she stared straight at the path ahead, afraid to look to the sides.

Suddenly, a violent gust of wind bombarded her.
She swayed with it, but because she was holding a sword, she was not particularly balanced.
She was just about to fall off the cliff.

The slovenly daoist priest curled a finger, and a gentle breeze blew over from the other side, lifting her up softly.
Only then did she stabilise herself.

“Master, that doesn’t seem too appropriate!” A young daoist priest with small eyes watched on from the side the entire time.
He could not help but say this after seeing how the slovenly daoist priest played favourites.

He wore a set of black clothes with a daoist hair ornament on his head.
There was a silken belt around his waist and hanging from it was a tablet carved with the word “One”.
It was a representation of a primary disciple.
His cultivation was at an impressive tenth layer.

The slovenly daoist priest’s face reddened.
He did not treat his dear disciple as rudely as the other school leaders.
Instead, he explained, “Juechenzi, she’s just a girl, so it’s very normal for her to be afraid of heights.
Who’s born without fears anyway? The mind is something you can slowly harden.
As for men, you need to be a little more vicious.
The edge of a treasured sword comes from grinding and sharpening…”

“Master, the treasured sword is still there!” Juechenzi pointed.

The slovenly daoist priest looked over.
Whether it was the wind, frost, or torrential downpour, none of it was able to make Li Qingshan’s gaze waver.
His pace instead sped up, running wildly through the wind and rain.