Under One Person: The Taoist Priest Descends the Mountain

On the national highway.

A gray minivan bumped along in the night.

Zhuge Sheng gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the highway illuminated by the headlights. Outside the window, the landscape changed from plains to hills, then to mountains; the trees on both sides of the road grew denser, while the villages became increasingly sparse.

Zhuge Ping sat in the passenger seat, wearing reading glasses, spreading out a map and tracing lines on it with his finger.

"Turn left at the intersection ahead."

Zhuge Sheng turned the steering wheel, and the car turned onto an even narrower road. The road was so narrow that it was difficult for two cars to pass each other. The branches of the trees on both sides brushed against the car window from time to time, making a rustling sound. In the distance, there was a gray mountain ridge line, which looked like a snake lying in the night.

After another half hour, the mountain road turned into a dirt road.

After another half hour, the mountain road turned into a dirt road. The car bounced and swayed on the bumpy surface, and the people inside were tossed about.

Zhuge was sitting in the middle of the back row, and his glasses were so jostled around that they slipped down to the tip of his nose.

He reached up and pushed up his glasses, asking, "How much further?"

Zhuge Ping glanced at the map, then at the view outside the window: "It should be on that slope over there."

The dirt road ended as soon as he finished speaking.

The car headlights illuminated a barren slope ahead; beyond that lay weeds and gravel, and the car couldn't proceed.

Several people got out of the car. Zhuge Ping took out a palm-sized bronze compass from his cloth bag. The magnetic needle in the middle swayed slightly under the glass cover. He held the compass in both hands and spun around in place.

The compass needle pointed northwest, then wobbled, then pointed north, and finally landed on that slope.

Zhuge Ping walked a dozen steps in that direction and looked down at the compass. The compass needle wobbled again, still pointing in that direction.

He touched the soil on the ground, picked up a bit, and sniffed it.

"This is it." He stood up, patted the dirt off his hands, and said, "North bank of the Xihan River, the coordinates match."

After saying that, he put the compass back into his bag and started climbing up the slope.

The slope doesn't look high, but it's very steep, about 70 or 80 degrees. The slope is covered with thorny vines and wild wolfberries, the red and black berries mixed together, soft and slippery underfoot, with mud squeezing from the soles of your shoes to both sides.

Zhuge was following behind him. The old man looked to be in his early seventies, but he climbed the slope with remarkable agility.

He stepped on the Seven Stars, with each step his toes touched the ground first, then his heels, and the mud beneath his feet slightly solidified when he landed—the foundation of the Bagua Step, the earth element generating the earth, making him stable wherever he stepped.

Zhuge Sheng followed behind, his hands forming a Xun character hand seal. A gentle breeze lifted his body upwards, and he was halfway up in no time.

But the wind was too strong, causing gravel to fall down the slope with a whooshing sound. He slipped and slid down the slope. He quickly dispelled his wind magic, pressed one hand to the ground, and exhaled a stream of qi from his palm. The ground exploded into a small crater, and he used the recoil to stabilize himself.

The other two clansmen, one in his early forties and the other in his thirties, are both skilled members of the middle generation.

The two used their own methods—the older one used the "Kan" water technique, making the muddy ground slippery under his feet, allowing him to slide half a meter with each step, saving energy and maintaining stability;

The younger one had it even easier. He simply pulled out two lightness talismans from his pocket, slapped them on his legs, touched the ground with his toes, and became as light as a leaf. He floated up on the stones and tree roots without slipping at all.

After climbing over the top of the slope, a flat area appeared in front of us.

The flat ground was square, half a foot higher than the surrounding ground, and covered with grass that was taller than knee-high. Underneath the grass, you could see broken tiles and pebbles.

The edge of the flat land is a broken earthen wall, in many places it is almost as high as the surrounding ground, with only some traces of tamping remaining.

Zhuge Zheng walked around the flat ground, his pace neither fast nor slow, each step landing precisely on the edge.

After walking around once, he stopped and looked at the outline of the foundation beneath his feet: "It's about eighty paces on each side, which is standard for military fortifications."

Zhuge Ping instructed everyone to clear away the grass roots and loose soil: "This is very likely a relic of our ancestors, so everyone should be careful."

Several people responded and squatted down to begin cleaning. They didn't dare use magic, afraid of hurting what was below. They pulled out grass roots with their hands and dug at the soil with their fingers, their movements were very gentle, just like at an archaeological site.

More than an hour later, Zhuge Sheng suddenly shouted, "Uncle! Look here!"

Everyone else gathered around.

On the ground was a blue brick, a size larger and thicker than the bricks we have now. There were characters engraved on the brick, but the characters had been severely eroded by wind and rain and were now very faint.

Zhuge Ping took out his reading glasses, put them on, lay down on the ground, and slowly traced the strokes with his fingers.

"This is..." His fingers began to tremble, "This is 'the ninth year of Jianxing'!"

The others huddled closer together, each chiming in with their own words—

"The ninth year of Jianxing! The year our ancestor launched his first northern expedition!"

"These bricks were fired during the land reclamation period, specifically for use in military fortifications!"

"Look at the way this character 'nine' is written. It has the foundation of Han Dynasty clerical script, but it already shows the brushstrokes of cursive script. This is a characteristic of inscriptions from this period!"

The voice grew louder and more excited.

Sudden--

"Hey, you're here."

Suddenly, a voice exploded from the side.

Several people suddenly looked up and headed in the direction of the sound.

The man emerged from the desolate woods. He had a long, thin face, high cheekbones, and wore a gray jacket, black trousers, and cloth shoes. He was clean and tidy, completely out of place with the muddy slope.

Zhuge Zheng stepped forward, blocking the others. His right hand hung at his side, his fingers already forming a mudra, his Qi flowing in his palm, drawn but not released.

Who are you?

The man's gaze swept over Zhuge Zheng, then over the people behind him, and finally returned to Zhuge Zheng's face.

"Me? Didn't you come here to see me?"

Zhuge Zheng frowned: "What exactly are you—"

He suddenly realized a possibility, and his voice changed: "You...you are Zhuge Liang?"

The other members of the Zhuge family were also stunned, and then their gazes toward that person became intense.

The man quickly waved his hand, looking annoyed: "Hey, wrong one! I'm Old Wei, Wei Zhongxian."

The expressions on their faces changed dramatically in an instant—from anticipation to shock, from shock to disgust, and from disgust to wariness.

Zhuge Zheng looked utterly disgusted, his fingers tightening as he formed a hand seal, his Qi condensing in his palm, ready to strike—

Old Wei pulled his hands out from behind his back and waved them, saying, "Don't rush, don't rush, I'm not here to fight."

He tilted his head and looked at the group of people: "I thought your Zhuge family was collaborating with the company to arrest me, but it seems you're not. Well, I'd like to see what the Zhuge family is like now."

His gaze slowly swept across the faces of the group, like picking vegetables at a market, looking at one person and moving on to the next.

Several people felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

Zhuge Zheng changed his hand gestures, unleashing the condensed Qi—

But it passed right through his body and struck the rubble of the earthen wall behind him.

boom!

The earthen wall blasted open a crater the size of a washbasin, and chunks of earth flew far away, hitting the grass with a loud crash.

Old Wei was still standing in the same spot, his posture unchanged. Not a single wrinkle appeared on his gray jacket.

Afterimage!

Old Wei looked down at his chest, then looked up at Zhuge Zheng: "Tsk tsk, is this the kind of guy you are?"

Zhuge Ping stuffed the compass into his cloth bag and was about to speak when Zhuge Zheng stopped him and asked Old Wei, "What is the purpose of your visit, sir?"

"Brother!" Zhuge Ping cried out anxiously.

Zhuge Zheng shook his head, his eyes fixed on Lao Wei.

Old Wei drawled out his words, like a theatrical recitation: "What I mean is—you're all so enthusiastic about recognizing a fake person as your ancestor. That guy who claims to be Zhuge Liang might not even believe he's Zhuge Liang himself, but you all do."

Zhuge Ping's face flushed red. He took a big step forward, and before Zhuge Zheng could stop him, a burst of energy exploded from his palm, heading straight for Old Wei's face.

The energy drew a twisted arc between the two.

Old Wei didn't even try to dodge; the Qi energy passed through his body again.

boom!

An innocent tree fell.