Although the initial effort didn’t go smoothly and the group from Duxian Sect fell for a trick by the Dragon Palace, it also made everyone more cautious and vigilant.
Li Changshou found solace in this and did not let his guard down for even a moment.
As more people gradually appeared around him, Li Changshou began to feel a bit uneasy about the environment—especially when there were unfamiliar faces nearby on all sides. He constantly stayed alert to every rustle and movement.
He quietly cast the Whispering Wind Spell.
Any breeze that passes by carries strands of information back to Li Changshou, and he processes this data in his mind methodically.
Using spiritual senses to probe others was akin to staring at someone with your eyes—alert individuals could easily sense it.
This was classified as an “active investigation.”
However, the Whispering Wind Spell allowed for transmitting messages to a specific target under spiritual lock and facilitated the passive reception of surrounding information.
Li Changshou referred to this as “passive investigation.” Its advantage was that it did not drain the power of the soul, but its downside was that it flooded the user with various streams of information, requiring constant mental effort to analyze.
From an early stage, Li Changshou had trained himself consciously to enhance his observation skills, endurance, and focus.
Under such circumstances, cultivators at the same level as him would typically lose concentration or relax their vigilance after just a few hours.
But Li Changshou, while using the Whispering Wind Spell, could maintain continuous monitoring for hundreds of hours without rest!
Of course…
Unintentionally living a life of immortal cultivation as a “human surveillance machine” did seem a bit tragic.
Still, it brought some peace of mind.
By monitoring his surroundings with the Whispering Wind Spell, Li Changshou also overheard the laughter and chatter of many other cultivators, picking up on various interesting anecdotes.
The topics discussed among the true immortals present mostly revolved around this gathering, particularly the main platform above, where celestial immortals congregated.
They were concerned about the agreements that might be reached with the Dragon Palace, how the boundaries of the Eastern Sea would be divided, and whether human cultivators would face obstacles from the dragon clan when traveling to the Eastern Sea in the future.
Meanwhile, the younger disciples’ conversations frequently included the words “heavenly tribulation.”
Most cultivators feared the heavenly tribulation because it was perilous and unavoidable.
Of course, stopping one’s cultivation or deliberately halting progress at certain bottlenecks—such as the Qi Refining, Spirit Return, Virtualization, or Dao Integration stages—would exempt one from facing the tribulation.
For most cultivators in Duxian Sect, as long as they didn’t succumb to inner demons, they would inevitably face the tribulation at some point.
This was because Duxian Sect, as a renowned immortal sect in the Eastern Continent, was highly selective about its disciples, accepting only those with exceptional aptitude. Furthermore, its teachings were profound, its doctrines well-preserved, and its resources and benefits robust.
Other sects weren’t so fortunate.
Across the vast wilderness and the Three Thousand Worlds, 90% of humans lacked the aptitude for cultivating immortality, and 95% of them remained ordinary mortals.
Among the cultivator community, around 90% couldn’t even reach the heavenly tribulation for immortality due to their limited aptitude or incomplete teachings.
Of those who ultimately faced the tribulation, only 10–20% survived it.
Looking at it this way, it seemed that the number of human immortals was not very large.
But in reality, the current number of human immortals already surpassed the combined total of the peak-era Wu and demon clans.
The reason was simple: the human race reproduced… ahem, the human population was simply enormous.
Through extensive reading, Li Changshou concluded that the rapid rise of the human race in the late stages of the Wu-Demon War was driven by three major factors:
- The innate Dao bodies are bestowed by the great goddess Nuwa.
- Their rapid reproduction rate and remarkable adaptability to various environments.
- The cohesion and unity were inspired by the wisdom of early human sages.
The notion of “the Heavenly Dao favoring the human race” was something Li Changshou didn’t believe in.
How could the impartial Heavenly Dao favor one race over another?
The Heavenly Dao’s prediction of humanity’s rise was more like a “prophecy” rather than the imposition of some destiny.
As for the idea that “the rise of the human race depends on the Daoist Three Sects,” that was even more laughable.
It was the rise of the human race that allowed the three Daoist Patriarchs to leverage humanity’s fortunes to prove their Dao and establish their sects, gaining immense merit in the process.
Although criticizing this as a Daoist disciple might seem inappropriate, Li Changshou always felt that the three Daoist Saints benefited greatly from humanity but contributed very little in return.
For instance, the Ren Sect, named after humanity, had only one disciple—the first-generation human Grandmaster Xuandu—while Duxian Sect’s founder, Du’e Zhenren, had an unclear origin and was neither a human nor a direct disciple of the Ren Sect.
As for the Great Sage Laozi, he had yet to enter the mortal world to teach the Dao De Jing.
This made Li Changshou hesitant to delve too deeply into the classic chapters of the Dao De Jing that he had memorized.
The Chan Sect was relatively commendable; Yuanshi Tianzun accepted many first-generation humans as disciples, who then established sects in Zhongzhou and spread the methods of cultivation among human cultivators.
The Jie Sect, on the other hand, was quite excessive.
Tongtian Jiaozhu seemed to use humanity’s fortune to support other races, with few human disciples under his tutelage. This was hardly fair.
The relationship between humanity and the Three Sects was that humanity provided the foundation for the sects’ establishment, while the sects merely added a layer of security for humanity’s prosperity.
The wilderness was rife with schemes.
Those who truly contributed to humanity’s rise were now either enjoying retirement in the Huoyun Cave or had long since reincarnated.
If Li Changshou were to voice these thoughts, he’d surely be criticized as heretical. These musings remained his private reflections, never to be shared with anyone.
When teaching Ling’e, for example, he only instructed her on how to avoid karmic entanglements, how to escape in emergencies, and how to cultivate the “heroic” trait of taking full responsibility for her actions—never implicating her senior brother.
Ling’e’s aptitude was quite remarkable, with the potential to become a prodigious cultivator. She was also relatively diligent.
Li Changshou always suspected that cultivation potential might have a genetic component.
For eighty generations, her ancestors had all been ordinary mortals, yet somehow a stunningly talented cultivator like Ling’e emerged—a true anomaly.
Li Changshou stayed quietly in his place, listening intently, when an intriguing topic caught his attention: the success rate of human cultivators overcoming their tribulations.
This was not a one-size-fits-all situation; the odds varied widely depending on the sect and its lineage.
For the majority of cultivators who did not inherit the teachings of the Three Great Daoist Schools, the odds were grim. Without superior techniques or the blessings of sect-wide fortune, only one in ten survived their tribulations.
In contrast, disciples of the Three Great Daoist Schools fared far better. If no unexpected mishaps occurred, the survival rate for disciples of the Chan Sect and the Human Sect could reach as high as 50-60%.
Interestingly, the overall survival average for these three schools barely scraped 30%, thanks to the declining influence of the Jie Sect.
The Chan Sect adopted a “strict selection” policy, ensuring high rates of ascension despite having an average number of sect branches.
The Human Sect followed a “laissez-faire” philosophy; its ascension rate was moderate, but the sect was small because the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord rarely accepted disciples.
The Jie Sect, on the other hand, embraced the principle of “education for all.” Its disciples included humans, demons, and spirits, resulting in wildly variable survival rates, where ascending to immortality was often left to fate. With branches scattered throughout countless worlds, the Jie Sect’s vast inclusiveness brought down the overall average.
Despite having exceptional Daoist teachings, abundant fortune, and divine treasures to stabilize sect karma, the Jie Sect’s mortality rate couldn’t be entirely mitigated.
Moreover, the Grandmaster of Heaven, the Jie Sect’s leader, wielded the terrifyingly destructive Four Immortal Execution Swords instead of a treasure that could stabilize sect’s fortune.
For this reason, Li Changshou had always felt profoundly grateful that his master had brought him into the Human Sect.
“Changshou, come over here.”
His senior aunt, Jiu Jiu, suddenly called out to him. Li Changshou instinctively shifted part of his focus toward her. She was beckoning him over with a smile.
Li Changshou shook his head slightly, indicating his reluctance to move.
Jiu Jiu glared at him with a look full of veiled threats.
Li Changshou pretended not to notice, maintaining his meditative pose and continuing to cast the Wind Whisper Spell.
Moments later, Jiu Jiu walked over, sat behind his low table, and whispered, “Changshou, did you bring any of your fun little inventions with you?”
“No,” Li Changshou replied calmly through a voice transmission. “Those are exclusive to Little Qiong Peak, meaning they can’t be taken elsewhere.”
Jiu Jiu pouted slightly but maintained her composed posture. She transmitted her complaint:
“How boring. This task is pure torture—having to sit here for days before the assembly even begins. And my master is watching from above, so I can’t sneak away.”
Li Changshou smiled faintly, deliberating on how to persuade his senior aunt to return to her seat without drawing too much attention.
He pulled out a handcrafted six-color wooden cube from his sleeve and began twisting it. The finely polished pieces moved smoothly, their tactile sensation satisfying. This quickly caught Jiu Jiu’s attention.
“What’s that?”
Li Changshou paused, showing her the scrambled colors of the cube. With nimble hands, he solved it within two breaths, restoring its vibrant uniformity.
Jiu Jiu’s eyes sparkled with interest.
He scrambled the cube again and placed it beside him, transmitting, “Don’t share it with anyone else.”
“Of course! Your rules are my rules,” she replied enthusiastically. Picking up the cube, she became fully engrossed, walking back to her table with it in hand.
Peace was restored once more.
Li Changshou resumed his role as an inconspicuous observer, quietly monitoring the surroundings with his Wind Whisper Spell while waiting for the Demon Clan Assembly to conclude.
By midday, nearly all the invited sects had arrived. The venue was now filled with handsome men and beautiful women, providing an aesthetically pleasing view for those with wandering eyes.
Suddenly, the sound of gongs and drums filled the air. A cluster of white clouds drifted down from the sky, carrying dozens of purple- and red-robed “sea folk.” The Dragon Palace had sent an extravagant oceanic orchestra.
The ensemble included:
- Clam maidens playing the zither, pearls glistening between their lips.
- Merfolk singers whose songs tugged at the heartstrings.
- Sea dragons on flutes, shrimp pounding drums, turtles blowing conch shells, and crabs clanging cymbals.
Below, elegantly dressed sea maidens, draped in light gauzy attire, gracefully entered the venue. Their fluid movements and fragrant gestures enchanted the audience.
Thus began the grand two-day cultural showcase hosted by the Dragon Palace.
Although Li Changshou paid no mind to the festivities, the chatter around him significantly dwindled as most attendees became absorbed in the performances. The number of messages his Wind Whisper Spell picked up decreased accordingly, granting him a brief respite.
“If the next few days could pass so uneventfully, it would be ideal,” he thought.
Even so, he analyzed potential challenges he might face.
It seemed unlikely he would be called upon for any duels. After all, in everyone’s eyes, he was just a second-level Void Return cultivator, hardly qualified to take center stage in such an event.
There shouldn’t be much to involve younger disciples either. Unless…
Hmm? Poison Junior Sister stood up. She was carrying her meditation mat and her massive sword, heading in his direction.
This…
There’s no need for hostility when we’ve done each other no harm.
Before she could reach him, Li Changshou transmitted to her, his tone tinged with helplessness, “Apologies, Junior Sister Youqin. I’d like to rest alone for a while.”
Better to reject her outright and avoid giving her any ideas.
Youqin Xuanya, startled, paused mid-step. She glanced briefly at Li Changshou, then placed her mat beside a female True Immortal.
The True Immortal smiled and said, “Come, Xiaoya. Let’s see what you think of this song I recently composed.”
“Yes, Martial Aunt… Is Senior Brother Changshou unwell?”
Youqin Xuanya’s soft inquiry was laden with concern as her beautiful eyes locked on him.
Li Changshou calmly shook his head, gesturing politely before closing his eyes again to feign rest.
A slight awkwardness hung in the air, but it was better than having her approach and draw unnecessary attention.
Li Changshou had noticed earlier that from the moment she stood up, numerous eyes from surrounding areas had shifted toward the Immortal Du Sect’s delegation.
Even among cultivators, Youqin Xuanya’s striking appearance and graceful demeanor made her the center of attention. It was difficult for her to go unnoticed.
If someone wanted to marry her, it might be safer to fatten her up first for peace of mind—just a thoughtful suggestion from her fellow senior brother, Li Changshou.
wannaberecluse On SRTT Chapter 50.1