On the other hand, Ji Wuye, who had just descended from the high grounds of the Kunlun Sect, walked down the stone steps as the morning birds chirped melodiously close to his ears.

The sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves above, casting a warm glow on his fluttering white hair that danced gently in the crisp mountain breeze.

The fresh, earthy aroma of the forest floor mingled with the crisp, cold mountain air, filling his lungs with an invigorating freshness with each deep breath.

His crimson eyes squinted slightly against the bright rays of the rising sun as he reached the foot of the mountain, focusing intently on a group of figures approaching him from the winding path below.

"Greetings, benefactor," said one of the bald figures, part of a group of more than five, all clad in long orange kasayas. However, unlike the typically slender build of monks, these men were muscular to the point that their kasayas resembled the robes of martial artists rather than those of monks.

Their broad shoulders and toned physiques strained against the fabric, hinting at years of rigorous training.

If not for the three dots on their foreheads, their bald heads glistening in the sunlight, and their calm, peaceful demeanor exuding an aura of serenity, they could easily be mistaken for impostors or wandering martial artist.

Yet, upon seeing their figures, especially the one who spoke to him with a deep, resonant voice, Ji Wuye finally allowed a faint smile to appear on his face, creasing the corners of his eyes.

'He's finally here, Shao Mu, the Vajra of the Shaolin Temple,' Ji Wuye thought inwardly, his pupils dilating slightly as his smile grew wider, revealing a glimpse of the anticipation he felt within. But, of course, this reaction lasted only a brief moment before the group of monks noticed Ji Wuye's silence.

"Greetings, Venerable," Ji Wuye responded, cupping his hands together and slightly lowering his head with closed eyes—the most respectful way to greet a monk. His voice was solemn yet carried a warmth that hinted at his genuine reverence. Unlike martial artists, monks were virtuous, with no intention other than helping the innocent.

Seeing Ji Wuye's respectful greeting and hearing the sincerity in his tone, the group of monks was momentarily stunned, their expressions shifting from curiosity to warmth, before kind smiles spread across their lips, softening their features.

"Amitabha. Buddha is truth, Buddha is benevolence. To have met a benefactor who understands our ways makes this day more blessed than any other," replied the leader of the Buddhist group, his voice rich and resonant.

He appeared to be around Ji Wuye's age, perhaps two years older, and was the first to respond to Ji Wuye's respectful greeting.

"This humble disciple of the Enlightened One seeks guidance. Might the benefactor know the path to the esteemed Kunlun Sect?" the leader continued, his voice carrying a humble yet hopeful tone. He silently gestured with an open palm for Ji Wuye to raise his head.

"The path you seek lies ahead, Venerable. I am also a humble disciple of Kunlun, but today fate has not brought us together to chant the Tripitaka, as I have other matters to attend to," Ji Wuye replied, his deep voice resonating with a mixture of respect and solemnity.

He stepped aside, facing the direction of the ornately carved paifang gate of Kunlun, which soon came into view as he extended his arm and pointed toward it with a slight nod.

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This time, the group of monks was even more stunned, their eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and intrigue. They had never heard of a disciple of Kunlun—a sect known for its Taoist teachings steeped in tradition—having read their sacred Buddhist scriptures, the Tripitaka.

However, seeing the sincerity and warmth in Ji Wuye's eyes and the faint smile that danced upon his lips, the leader immediately cupped his hands in respect, his palms pressed together.

"A thousand thanks, Benefactor. Your aid is as vast as the ocean. The red threads of fate intertwine us all—be it in this life or the next, our paths shall cross again like rivers meeting the sea," the leader said. Then the group of monks bowed deeply, their robes rustling in the gentle breeze.

...

After parting with the group of monks and arriving at the entrance of Kunlun's Qiuxiu Village, the familiar bustling scene greeted Ji Wuye.

However, this time, instead of the usual locals milling about, he noticed more foreign faces scattered among the stalls, shops, and cobblestone paths.

Ji Wuye observed them briefly, his crimson eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces, before heading toward his usual destination—the Medicine Herb Shop, which was unsurprisingly closed .

Instead of panicking or showing confusion, Ji Wuye calmly walked to the outskirts of the village, his robes fluttering behind him as he turned around and walked along a grassy path behind the shops, the sweet scent of wildflowers wafting through the air.

Eventually, he found a familiar lanky young man , his face partially obscured by a wide-brimmed straw hat.

"Oh, greetings, Master," the lanky young man, who was not just the shopkeeper's assistant, immediately noticed Ji Wuye's approach and cupped his hands in respect.

"Is everything ready?" Ji Wuye asked, his voice low and steady, patiently waiting for the young man's reply as he kept glancing behind Ji Wuye and side to side, remaining vigilant.

…

Unknowingly, the morning sun and fresh air had turned into the hotter daylight as Ji Wuye ascended the steps back toward the Kunlun gate. After showing his badge to the guarding disciple for approval, the scene before him was lively and bustling.

Countless disciples in colorful martial robes, flocked to the first level of the sect grounds, talking and walking back and forth as if inspecting every nook and cranny of Kunlun. Their animated discussions and gestures filled the air with a palpable buzz of excitement and curiosity.

However, Ji Wuye's arrival and appearance were like honey attracting a swarm of attention. Heads turned, whispers rose, and all eyes seemed to be drawn towards the white-haired man with the striking crimson eyes.

"Eh? Senior Brother, isn't that the famous flower boy of Kunlun?" a voice murmured from a group of disciples clad in simple robes.

"Don't say a word. We came here in peace and do not seek trouble," another warned in a hushed tone, their body language guarded.

These were the murmurs from disciples of smaller sects or schools.

"Wow, look at him, Brother! How could such a handsome man exist?" came a louder, more brazen exclamation from a disciple of a mid-sized sect, her eyes wide with open admiration.

"Ssh! Don't talk, don't speak, and don't engage in conversation until tomorrow. Remember the Elder's words," her companion chastised, their voice stern yet tinged with a hint of embarrassment at their peer's lack of decorum.

These curious remarks, however, mostly came from disciples of mid-sized sects or schools. Most of the representatives sent here were sensible and carried the dignity of their sects on their shoulders, their expressions a mix of curiosity and subtle disdain as they observed Ji Wuye's every move.

One wrong or embarrassing move would reflect poorly on their entire sect, so no one dared to seek trouble, even though their eyes followed Ji Wuye with a mixture of curiosity and subtle disdain.

Unless, of course, they were from one of the big sects, such as...

"Hehe, look who it is—the Young Ma—I mean, the young flower of Kunlun!" came a mocking voice from a disciple wearing a silver, not white, martial robe, his tone dripping with disdain.

A young man in his twenties, with bold eyebrows and a gaze narrowed in contempt, approached Ji Wuye, his steps heavy and deliberate, his presence commanding attention.

'Quanzhen Sect,' Ji Wuye muttered inwardly, glancing at the approaching speaker as he also walked toward him, his expression calm and neutral, betraying none of the disquiet that stirred within.

"I love that gaze. Has Kunlun drifted so far as to break its own sect rules?" the disciple taunted, his sinister smile growing wider as Ji Wuye approached, thinking that the other party had finally been provoked by his barbed words.

However, the brash disciple from the Quanzhen Sect was stunned, his eyes widening slightly and his mocking smile faltering, as Ji Wuye simply walked past him without so much as a word or a glance in his direction.

Ji Wuye's steps were measured and unhurried, his expression one of serene indifference as he ascended the stairs toward the second level of the Kunlun Sect grounds, heading for the Central Courtyard.

A moment of tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of Ji Wuye's retreating footsteps on the stone steps.

"Pff!"

"BWHAHAHA!"

Then, a burst of laughter erupted from those who had been watching the tense atmosphere unfold, now amused by how Ji Wuye had completely ignored and defused the disciple's provocations without uttering a single word.

...

Meanwhile, Ji Wuye arrived at a familiar pavilion, resplendent atop a three-zhang platform. The mammoth structure rose nearly 60 chi toward the heavens, almost grazing the craggy cliff face that cradled it like a protective embrace.

Golden twin dragons writhed atop the upswept eaves of the bamboo roof, their scales glinting like newly minted coins in the brilliant sunlight. Their snarling maws and whip-like tails seemed to come alive, dancing in the gentle breeze that carried the faint scent of incense and pine.

The Kunlun Thousand Pavilion.