Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 2
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“Since you’ve been selected, there’s nothing to be done about it. Don’t worry, just go,” True Immortal Dong Yang said soothingly. “Although I have never met the Dharma Lord of Compassionate Repository, judging by his title alone, he should be a kind and gentle elder. If you go there, just be proper and modest, don’t try to stand out, and you’ll be fine.”
Kind and gentle elder, huh? Liao Ting Yan wasn’t so sure. But fine—there was no backing out anyway. She summoned the psychological resilience of a modern corporate drone: slow down, numb yourself, treat everything lightly. No hurdle in life couldn’t be overcome—and if it couldn’t, then collapse in place. Whether lying down at the finish line or lying down anywhere else, lying was still lying.
Once she embraced that attitude, nothing seemed like such a big deal.
While waiting for the ancient ancestor to emerge, she discovered that indeed, the entire sect was on edge. Even Clear Valley Heaven—usually the forgotten corner of the Immortal Mansion—was suddenly buzzing because of her, like a no-name rural high school that had unexpectedly produced the top scorer in the national college entrance exams.
Of course, many couldn’t understand how she had been chosen. By all logic, plenty of more talented female disciples had been rejected. Frankly, Liao Ting Yan herself didn’t understand either—one minute there had been blinding light, and the next, she was somehow on the list. Senior and junior sisters who came sniffing for secrets all left empty-handed.
“I heard White Emperor Mountain and Red Water Abyss both sent people to attend the ceremony for the Dharma Lord’s emergence.”
“Not just them! Which sect wouldn’t want to come? But only those qualified can enter. Outsiders can’t get close. Only disciples of our Gengchen Immortal Mansion, along with the palace masters and branch masters, may go up to Three Saints Mountain. Everyone else must wait below.”
“Then Senior Sister Liao should definitely go, right? She’s one of the hundred chosen to serve the Dharma Lord of Compassionate Repository.”
The young attendants looked at her with burning envy.
“Yes,” Liao Ting Yan nodded politely. “I should be able to see him.”
“I wonder what the Dharma Lord looks like… I’d love to see him too, but attendants like us can only wait outside.”
“Senior Sister Liao, if you do see him, you’ll tell us later, won’t you?”
“Of course,” she agreed readily.
In her mind, she pictured a textbook immortal elder: flowing white hair, a beard long enough to trip over, kindly features, broad forehead, thick earlobes like a Buddha statue—maybe even a red gem glowing on his brow.
The more people came to ask about it, the more it felt like she was about to meet a head of state. And honestly? That was kind of exciting.
By the day of the emergence, the Gengchen Immortal Mansion was practically boiling.
At dawn, the eastern sky blazed with brilliant clouds, shifting colors like silk. It wasn’t a natural phenomenon—disciples had burned spiritual treasures just to choreograph the heavens. Only a behemoth sect like this could mobilize so many people and resources for pure atmosphere.
White cranes and fantastical birds soared past, carrying pavilion carriages on their backs, transporting guests in majestic style. Clouds of condensed spiritual energy rolled across the air, released by the elders opening spiritual veins. Plants bathed in the mist released fresh fragrance, and those within it felt their pores open, their bodies light, their minds clear.
Even Liao Ting Yan, who had spent days worrying about how to cultivate, found her body naturally absorbing energy in this atmosphere. Warmth suffused her limbs; her thoughts sharpened. For the first time, cultivation felt delightful.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t here to cultivate—she was here as a flag-bearer. Correction: as a sacrificial candidate to serve the Dharma Lord. Before heading to Three Saints Mountain, she and the others had to meet the legendary Sect Leader for final instructions.
She exchanged her Clear Valley Heaven blue robes for a snow-white dress, uniform for all hundred chosen women.
Her Master escorted her once again, but his expression was darker than before. He anxiously reminded her not to make enemies. He was more fatherly than a real father.
The grand hall they entered left her speechless. The dome soared high, carved with celestial figures in dazzling reliefs. Gemstones glittered, cloud-patterned jade pillars gleamed, crane-shaped golden lamps stood taller than men. Even the floor shone like a mirror, made of some impossibly solid, heavy material.
The chosen disciples tried to hide their awe and stood in formation. Above them, hazy figures appeared on crystal lotus seats—avatars of the sect’s top leaders.
Ah. A video conference. Very efficient, Liao Ting Yan thought.
The Sect Leader’s voice rolled through the hall. “You are gathered here, and I have some words to instruct you. Once you leave this hall, you may not speak of them.”
His words grew heavier.
“After the Dharma Lord emerges, you will be sent to Three Saints Mountain. Once there, you must gain his special favor. Whoever succeeds will be rewarded not only as promised, but a thousandfold more. Even your branch will share the glory. And… you must report back everything concerning the Dharma Lord.”
Liao Ting Yan froze. This doesn’t sound right.
The Sect Leader’s tone sharpened. “The Dharma Lord of Compassionate Repository is no ordinary person. You must serve him attentively, carefully. Never anger him—otherwise, you will certainly die!”
…Excuse me, what happened to the kindly, benevolent elder?!
It was too late to run. With a wave of his sleeve, the Sect Leader transported them instantly—darkness, disorientation, then daylight again.
“Is this… Three Saints Mountain?”
The disciple beside her nearly swooned at the sight. Liao Ting Yan clenched her fists, afraid she’d faint from nerves.
Three Saints Mountain loomed before them, wrapped in clouds and glowing light. For five centuries it had been sealed, forbidden to all. Legends said the sect’s three founding immortals had cultivated here before ascending.
Behind them, tens of thousands of disciples filled the plain. Above, the palace masters and elders floated in ranks upon ranks of clouds, stern as heavenly soldiers.
The scene reminded Liao Ting Yan of Journey to the West—a celestial parade waiting for the Monkey King. Her nervous imagination made her giggle.
Then—
BOOM. BOOM. DONG.
The mountain itself tolled like a bell. The earth shook. Waves of power rippled outward.
Liao Ting Yan’s head went blank. Her nose stung—and blood trickled down.
“…Damn. I’m bleeding.”
And she wasn’t the worst off. In the sky, beams of light lashed out, striking the sect leaders. Several screamed, flung backward. The Sect Leader himself staggered, coughed blood, and collapsed to his knees before the hundred stunned disciples.
“Grand-Uncle, please quell your anger!”
At once, everyone dropped to their knees, voices uniting in a desperate chorus: “Please calm your anger, Ancestor!”
The mountains echoed with their cries.
But a cold, disdainful laugh rolled out of Three Saints Mountain.
“When I come out, you will all die.”
Liao Ting Yan’s jaw dropped. Excuse me—are we sure this is a righteous-path ancestor and not some demonic cult leader? Compassionate Repository?! Compassionate my ass!
Even the disciples panicked, though none as much as the elders, who knew the truth. Five hundred years of seclusion had not calmed this figure—it had only sharpened his fury. If he broke free, the Immortal Mansion itself might collapse.
The Sect Leader knelt low, voice trembling. “Grand-Uncle, after you entered seclusion, Father passed away. Before his death, he left you a letter, meant to be presented in person.”
Silence.
Then: “Come in.”
The Sect Leader rose and entered the mist, leaving everyone straining for a glimpse.
Liao Ting Yan noted with unease that the ancestor’s voice hadn’t sounded old at all. It was young—and sharp.
Moments later, the clouds parted, revealing the mountain at last.
No trees. No flowers. Not even grass. The entire massif was paved in jade and stone, woven into countless formations. At the peak stood a grand palace complex, golden tiles and red walls gleaming.
But around it rose hundreds of black iron pillars, each wrapped in massive chains that bound the central tower. Floating jade tablets blazed with sealing symbols overhead.
It didn’t look like a retreat for meditation. It looked like a prison for something monstrous. Like the Five Elements Mountain that crushed Sun Wukong.
A chill ran through Liao Ting Yan.
She glanced around at the hundred beauties beside her.
Suddenly, they all looked less like honored disciples and more like sacrifices.
What use does the Great Sage have for a Tang Monk—or a Buddha—if he’s being served instead by a hundred Snake Spirits, White Bone Demons, and Peacock Princesses?
Her scalp prickled. Her inner voice screamed:
Help! Save me!