Chapter Fifty-Five: The Ten-Thousand Mountain Range (12)

In truth, Zhang Ning felt uneasy. He had just tested the temperature of the deep pool’s water himself. Although, for reasons unknown, the surface hadn’t frozen, the water was undoubtedly below zero—so cold it pierced the bones. Humans cannot linger in such low temperatures for long. Though Zhang Daozhou’s skills were remarkable, he didn’t seem the type to have cultivated his physical body, and the Moon-Pointing Deep Pool was a harsh counter to his techniques…

Still, while Zhang Ning was worried, men don’t fuss over each other. He simply activated the Cloud Drift Visualization, circulating his inner energy throughout his body and preparing himself to reprise his university part-time job—lifeguard at the swimming pool—at a moment’s notice.

Zhang Daozhou, steady in Zhang Ning’s gaze, walked to the pool’s center. Without so much as a deep breath, he slipped beneath the surface.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Zhang Ning grew restless and peered into the depths. The water was clear, shining to the very bottom, but the pool floor was littered with branches and jagged stones, likely built up over countless years of erosion. Even along the shore, the uneven, pitted surface looked perilous.

Another cup of tea’s time passed. Zhang Ning mentally compared the lung capacity of those from this other world, calculated the window before brain death, and silently decided on his rescue threshold. He continued his quiet count: “One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three… one thousand sixty… one thousand one, one thousand two… one thousand sixty!” (This method of counting is, after all, fairly scientific.)

Truth be told, it would be rather rude to interfere with someone retrieving ancestral remains. But such considerations only matter while the person is still alive. Having finally met a youth who was so congenial and sincere, Zhang Ning would not let him die an ignoble death in a laughable pool. Whether his intervention would be appreciated or not, Zhang Ning had always done what he believed he ought and wanted to do—an attitude that hinted at a certain devil-may-care spirit in his actions.

Counting under his breath, Zhang Ning found his mind wandering: Was this pool named the Moon-Pointing Deep Pool because it countered Daoist ways, or did it earn its name after claiming the lives of Daoist predecessors? Who was so outstanding as to name it thus? Could it be their Buddhist rivals at work? But that couldn’t be—it’s not as if there weren’t other Daoist masters. Why not just level this pool entirely? For martial experts, moving mountains and filling seas is a trifle!

A sudden splash shattered his thoughts.

Zhang Daozhou surged to the surface, holding a Daoist robe. The robe was not limp and empty; it seemed he had wrapped the remains inside.

Zhang Ning, not wanting to intrude, waded over and respectfully bowed several times to the robe. “Might I know the name of this honored Daoist?”

Zhang Daozhou gazed at the robe, an expression of gentle reverence softening his features. “My uncle’s Daoist name was Morning Glow.”

Zhang Ning replied, “Greetings, Master Morning Glow. Today, I will lead you and Brother Daozhou out of this pool without outside aid. Please, I ask for your blessing… May he not be anxious or afraid.”

Distracted by Zhang Ning’s words, Zhang Daozhou couldn’t help but laugh, the gloom in his eyes melting like snow under the sun. “Ning, whatever you want me to do, just tell me. I’ll follow your lead.”

Zhang Ning laughed as well. “Then come with me.”

A short while later, Zhang Ning surveyed the truly perilous terrain before them, feeling a surge of the same boldness he’d felt when overlooking the Azure Realm from the Great-Bellied Boat.

He ran his hand along the slick rock wall and said to Zhang Daozhou, “My sole audience, Zhang Daozhou, watch closely—this is how you climb a wall like this. If you get the hang of it, be sure to like, favorite, and subscribe to my livestream!”

Zhang Daozhou had no idea what Zhang Ning was talking about, but he was infected by Zhang Ning’s enthusiasm, and nodded in agreement.

“Look! These walls are narrow and steep, the edges sharp. To leap up would be suicide, and if you slip while climbing, best case is injury, worst case is death! But there’s an advantage—it’s so narrow here, the walls are only about a person’s width apart.”

He found the narrowest point, pressed his back to one wall and his feet to the other, and braced himself—suspended in midair!

Zhang Daozhou suddenly understood.

For ordinary people, climbing this way was pure fantasy; for martial artists, their first thought would be to use flight or magical artifacts, or perhaps leap up in one bound—why bother with such acrobatics?

Zhang Ning pressed his feet and back against the walls, using reaction and friction to maintain a delicate balance, inching his way upward. The walls were slick with moss and razor-sharp in places; before long, his clothes were shredded. Fortunately, Zhang Ning was careful, and suffered no cuts.

Zhang Daozhou watched, eyes gleaming with admiration.

When the gap widened, Zhang Ning simply stretched out his arms and legs. When it narrowed, he had to hunch his knees; even with his bodily control, he trembled with exertion.

Eventually, through perseverance and stamina, Zhang Ning climbed from the bottom of the seemingly bottomless pool. Near the exit, he stopped, adjusted his posture to rest in a hollow in the rock, and called down, “Brother Daozhou, I’ll wait here for you! Let’s make the final ascent together!”

“Alright!” Zhang Daozhou replied. Carefully cradling the robe (for, in his heart, his uncle’s remains were not mere objects and could not be put in a storage ring), he adopted Zhang Ning’s method and began to climb. It was an even greater challenge for him, but he felt no fatigue or hardship—on the contrary, it was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes; “enlightenment” was too mild a word.

Who would have thought that even the simplest rope need not be used? With nothing but pure physical strength and a heart unburdened by pride, one could reach the summit.

Most importantly, this couldn’t be called cheating in any sense—it perfectly met all the requirements. Even the master of the mountain would have nothing to say. It seemed he truly owed Brother Ning a debt of gratitude.

Watching Zhang Daozhou carefully shield the robe from any scrape, Zhang Ning was moved by his profound devotion to his uncle.

“If someone cared for and cherished me in such a way—not just with words—I would surely treat them as family!” Zhang Ning silently resolved.

Nearly an hour later, Zhang Daozhou reached Zhang Ning’s perch. They exchanged a smile, then simultaneously struck the rock beneath with their palms.

No sooner had they set foot on solid ground and steadied themselves than a sharp, feminine voice rang out.

“Who are you? Stay away from him!”