C5 Birthday Celebration

Wudang Mountain was a treasure trove of natural beauty, boasting 72 peaks, 36 cliffs, 24 creeks, and 11 caves. The longevity of the Wudang Sect, spanning over a thousand years, owed much to the mountain's enchanting allure.

The mountain was abuzz with celebration. Halls were adorned with festive couplets, and everyone was decked out in spotless new garments and hats, radiating joy.

The mountain paths teemed with visitors. Groups of warriors mingled with pairs and trios, while lone travelers like Su Chen made their way independently.

Su Chen, clad in a moon-white robe with a folding fan at his waist, a jade pendant hanging from his belt, and a felt hat atop his head, cut a striking figure reminiscent of an ancient nobleman. His appearance caught the attention of many warriors, though their gazes often drifted to the backpack he carried.

Unperturbed, Su Chen patted his backpack, a sly grin spreading across his face. It was time to unveil the tricks of a transmigrator and send shivers down the spines of these ancient folk. Su Chen was ready to make his mark.

At the entrance of the hall, two acolytes greeted the guests with beaming smiles.

Beyond this periphery, deeper within the hall, other attendants would take over. In the world of warriors, reputation and seniority mattered greatly. Su Chen, an unknown wanderer, wouldn't be welcomed by second-generation disciples of the Wudang Sect. Instead, a third-generation disciple acolyte was assigned to him.

After offering his gift, Su Chen left the astonished acolyte behind and proceeded into the inner sanctum. He wisely chose to withhold the real present for now, having given the acolyte nothing more than a glass ball the size of a fist.

Once the acolyte regained his composure, Su Chen had vanished. Hurrying to the rear hall, the acolyte realized that the gift's value was beyond his authority to accept; it was time to involve his master.

Entering the grand hall, the first sight to greet him was not the throng of guests, but the venerable elder seated at the place of honor. With his white hair and beard, and skin as soft as a baby's, he exuded a gentle aura. This was the very image of the fabled youthful appearance despite old age.

Sensing Su Chen's gaze, Zhang Sanfeng glanced in his direction. His eyes lingered briefly on the peculiar bundle behind Su Chen before he offered a warm smile.

Su Chen gave a slight bow and chose a secluded corner to sit, silently watching the dynamics of the hall. Aside from a few individuals who were clearly Heads of their groups, the other disciples had conspicuous bulges at their waists, likely concealing weapons. It was evident that this birthday celebration would not be without its tensions.

The six imposing figures standing near Sage Zhang, though smiling, maintained a rigid posture, enveloped by an aura of solemnity. It was probable that these were the remaining six of the Seven Heroes of Wudang, excluding the third disciple, Yu Daiyan.

After the meal, an acolyte tidied away the dishes, and a young Taoist priest addressed the assembly with clarity and poise: "Esteemed seniors and friends, today we celebrate my master's centennial birthday. The Wudang Sect is deeply honored by your presence, though we apologize for any shortcomings in our hospitality. My master had hoped to invite you all to the Yellow Crane Tower in Wudang for a shared toast, where any unintentional discourtesy today could be amply compensated.

"Fifth Brother Zhang Cuishan, who has been absent for a decade, has only just returned. His trials and tribulations over these past ten years have yet to be fully disclosed to our master. Moreover, on such a joyous occasion as today, it would be unseemly to delve into the martial world's disputes and vendettas. Your journey here to extend birthday wishes should not be marred by ulterior motives of conflict. As rare guests to Wudang, allow me to escort you to the mountains to appreciate the scenery. What do you say?"

Hearing this, Su Chen recognized the speaker as Zhang Sanfeng's disciple, Zhang Songxi, and admired the way Sanfeng mentored his students. Each of the Seven Heroes of Wudang was a first-rate warrior with impeccable character, reinforcing Su Chen's respect for them.

Zhang Songxi's speech effectively silenced any potential dissenters, making it clear that today was a day of celebration. Should anyone raise the issues surrounding Xie Xun and the Dragon Gate Escort Agency, it would be seen as a direct affront to the Wudang Sect.

The visitors ascended the mountain, each with the hidden agenda of uncovering the whereabouts of the Golden-Maned Lion King, Xie Xun. Despite the Wudang Sect's formidable reputation, no one dared to confront them alone. A collective confrontation might embolden them, yet no one was willing to be the first to initiate hostilities.

The room fell into an awkward silence as everyone exchanged puzzled glances. Xi Huazi of the Kunlun Sect stood up and declared loudly, "Zhang Cuishan, let's not beat around the bush. We've come up the mountain firstly to celebrate Sage Zhang's birthday, and secondly to inquire about the whereabouts of that villain, Xie Xun."

One of the Six Heroes of Wudang couldn't contain himself any longer and stepped forward with a sneer, "Ah, so that's the real reason. It all makes sense now!"

Xi Huazi's eyes widened in confusion. "What do you mean 'it all makes sense'?"

"When I heard that you all were visiting Wudang to honor my master's birthday, I was curious about the weapons you carried. I wondered if perhaps you intended to present them to my master as birthday gifts. Now, it seems I understand the true nature of your 'gifts.'"

With a slap on his clothing, Xi Huazi undid his robe and called out, "Take a good look, Mo Shenggu. Don't make baseless accusations, especially at your young age. Who among us is concealing a weapon?"

The young man in question was indeed Mo Shenggu, the seventh-ranked among the Seven Heroes of Wudang.

Mo Shenggu replied with a cold laugh, "Indeed, there are none." With a swift motion, he flicked his fingers and tugged at the belts of two individuals beside him. His movements were lightning-fast, and with a tug, he snapped their belts. The sound of metal rang out twice in quick succession as two short daggers clattered to the floor, their blades gleaming with a striking green hue.

The atmosphere tensed as faces around the room turned pale. Xi Huazi raised his voice, "Exactly. If Zhang Cuishan refuses to disclose Xie Xun's location, then drawing our blades cannot be helped."

The chant "Amitabha" resonated clearly and brightly into the ears of all present, as if coming from a distance yet sounding as though it originated nearby.

Zhang Sanfeng chuckled, "Ah, it's Master Kong Wen from the Shaolin Temple. Please, let's welcome him."

From outside, the voice continued, "Abbot Kong Wen of Shaolin Temple, accompanied by my junior brothers Kong Zhi and Kong Xing, as well as our disciples, humbly wish Sage Zhang a long and prosperous life."

"I've long admired the esteemed reputation of the Shaolin Temple's divine monks. It's truly an honor to meet one today; this journey has indeed been worthwhile," said a person dressed in Kunlun attire, bowing respectfully.

A deeper voice from outside added, "This must be Mr. He, the Head of Kunlun. A pleasure to meet you! Sage Zhang, I apologize for arriving late to celebrate your birthday. Please forgive me."

Zhang Sanfeng replied, "With so many distinguished guests gathered here on Wudang Mountain today, I'm merely celebrating a hundred years of life. I appreciate the three divine monks taking the trouble to come."

Despite the distance and several doorways separating them, the four individuals projected their voices using internal energy, conversing as if face-to-face.

Zhang Sanfeng, accompanied by his disciples, stepped out to greet them. The three divine monks, followed by nine other monks, approached the Purple Cloud Palace at a measured pace. Master Kong Wen's white eyebrows hung low, nearly covering his eyes, resembling an arhat with elongated brows; Master Kong Xing boasted a robust frame and an imposing demeanor; Master Kong Zhi, however, bore a countenance of sorrow, with the corners of his mouth downturned.

Although Zhang Sanfeng and the monks, including Kong Wen, were all revered martial arts masters, they had never met before. Zhang Sanfeng was several decades their senior. Born in Shaolin, he was technically two generations above Kong Wen and his peers in terms of seniority. However, since he was neither ordained as a monk at Shaolin nor formally trained in martial arts there, they greeted each other as equals.

Soong Yuanqiao and his contemporaries were considered a generation younger. Zhang Sanfeng led Kong Wen and the others into the grand hall, where He Taichong, Destroy Nun, Guan Neng, and others came forward to meet them. Each expressed their admiration, exchanging pleasantries. Master Kong Wen, ever so humble, insisted on bowing to every junior disciple from each sect and clan, causing a bit of a stir. It took some time, but eventually, the introductions were completed for the hundreds present.