Chapter Three: The Realm of the Spirit Immortal

Saint Pingning Hospital, Main Hall.

Standing before Huasheng, who wore a brand-new jacket, was the woman in the black suit he had met recently. But now she had changed into a deep gray Han-style robe.

“Sorry, Lao Bai couldn’t make it today due to some business. But it’s nothing complicated—so I’ll handle this for you. You can call me Heiyun.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s go get your admission procedures done at the Shudao Academy. You’ve arrived at just the right time, as the new academic year is about to begin.”

“Admission? I’m supposed to go back to school here?” Huasheng wondered. Indeed, it had been a long time since he’d set foot in a classroom.

“Whenever one reaches the right age, it’s time to learn, no matter where you are. Don’t you agree?”

“What subjects are we talking about? Language, math, sciences?”

“Not at all.” Heiyun shook her head, and then launched into a rapid explanation. “You’ll study Doppelganger Arts, Invisibility, Accelerated Aging, Ascension, Cloud Riding, Sky Climbing, Illusion Weaving, Divine Movement, Water Parting, Water Walking…”

Huasheng hurriedly stopped her. “Wait! What kind of subjects are those?”

“Immortal Arts!”

“Immortal Arts? As in, the powers of immortals?”

Heiyun explained, “Exactly! Immortal arts are like painting, calligraphy, or sculpture in the mortal realm—a craft or a skill, if you will. So, it’s not only immortals who use them. You must have heard of spirits or Daoist priests; as long as one is devoted, anyone can learn and use immortal arts through diligent cultivation.”

“I see!” Huasheng began to understand.

Following Heiyun out of the hospital doors, Huasheng was nearly blinded by the dazzling sunlight. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness, a magnificent ancient capital unfolded before him.

Towering buildings filled his view, their heights rivaling those in any major metropolis he’d seen. Yet on closer inspection, all were built of blue bricks and white tiles, with some thirty-story structures boasting wooden facades.

The streets bustled with traffic and people. Their clothing resembled that of the Han and Tang dynasties. The men wore wide-sleeved robes in shades of blue, green, or indigo. The girls wore long skirts, their high waists tied with silk ribbons, sometimes fastened just under the arms, making them look strikingly graceful and slender.

If not for the modern-looking vehicles weaving through the throngs, Huasheng might have thought he’d been transported straight back to the Han or Tang era. It was as if this society had never been ravaged by war or foreign invasion, but had thrived in peace for centuries, passing its legacy on to the present day.

Huasheng gazed in wonder, moved by a resonance he couldn’t quite name.

Watching Huasheng, who was covering his mouth in astonishment, Heiyun smiled and said, “Welcome to the Immortal Realm of Saint Pingning—the modern-day Peach Blossom Spring.”

Huasheng couldn’t contain his curiosity, firing off a barrage of questions: “Where exactly is this place? Are we still on Earth? How can there be such a massive city?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s more than just a city. In terms of territory, it rivals a country,” Heiyun replied. “Saint Pingning Immortal Realm has existed for nearly fifteen hundred years. Its history would take you years to hear in detail.”

“Can you give me the short version?”

Heiyun walked over to a car. “Let’s get in. We’ll go to the Shudao Academy, and I’ll explain on the way.”

At first glance, Huasheng thought it was a five-seat convertible, but as he approached, he saw the upper half was a transparent glass dome. Inside, passengers could see all around, even look up at the sky. He opened the rear door and got in.

“You think I’m your chauffeur?” Heiyun shot him a look. “Please get out from the back and sit up front.”

Remembering his manners, Huasheng awkwardly took the front passenger seat and immediately apologized. “Sorry about that!”

Heiyun closed the door. “Seatbelt on.”

Huasheng obediently complied.

Although Heiyun sat in the driver’s seat, Huasheng saw no steering wheel. It felt like the front row of a double-decker bus. Once settled, Heiyun spoke toward the front, “Please take us to the Shudao Academy.”

A gentle female voice sounded within the car, “The journey is about one hundred li, estimated at a quarter of an hour. Departing now.”

“Amazing!” Huasheng exclaimed.

“This sort of transport has been around for five hundred years. Sedan chairs were too slow for long distances, and fast horses required frequent stops at relay stations—far too inconvenient.”

“This is basically a car, though!”

“It does resemble your mortal vehicles, but the materials are different. And it moves by means of talismans. If the passengers don’t have strong spiritual power, you’d need to replace the spirit talisman every five hundred thousand li. In harsh environments, the talisman’s duration shortens.”

Huasheng tapped on the window, producing a dull thud. “Is this glass, too?”

“Tinted colored glaze.” As she spoke, Heiyun lifted her right index finger and drew a circle in the air. Instantly, the interior dimmed as the glass turned a deep gray. Then, the lights in the ceiling came on, ensuring the cabin wasn’t plunged into darkness.

Seeing Huasheng’s childlike curiosity, Heiyun said, “You can try it, too.”

Huasheng imitated her, raising his left index finger and turning it in the opposite direction. The glass dome grew bright again. Interestingly, as his finger moved, he felt resistance, as if he were adjusting a real device, with the smoothness of a continuous dial.

“Try pressing down.”

“Where?”

“Just press upward with your finger.”

Huasheng did as instructed, and suddenly the roof and the side glass panels retracted downward, transforming the car into a convertible. The air outside was crisp, and fresh breezes flooded his lungs, invigorating him.

He lifted both arms, reveling in the wind streaming through his fingers.

Pavilions flashed past on either side. On a nearby terrace, several elegant young women in exquisite Han robes chatted as they fanned themselves, bursting into laughter at some amusing remark.

“If this car is powered by immortal arts, can it fly?” he asked.

“It can, but usually only rises about five meters in a traffic jam. Any higher, and you’d interfere with those riding swords or flying on cranes. Mortals like you make up about thirty percent of the population here. Many elderly mortals are afraid of heights, so ordinary vehicles don’t travel too high.”

Huasheng was utterly captivated by Saint Pingning, his mind overflowing with questions. “Where exactly is Saint Pingning located?”

“The East Sea,” Heiyun replied.

“On the land beside the East Sea?”

“No. In the East Sea itself.”

“In the sea? That can’t be right—we’re clearly on land!” Huasheng glanced up at the sky, then at the ground beneath his feet. It hardly seemed like the sea.

“The sky you see is a magical illusion—a reflection of the real East Sea sky. In truth, the entire city is hidden within the sea.”

“So it’s an underwater city? Like Atlantis?” Huasheng was thrilled by the idea.

“Not quite. Saint Pingning doesn’t rest on the seabed. It floats within the ocean.”

“So it’s like a ship? But I don’t feel the slightest bit seasick.”

“That, too, is thanks to magic.”

“How big is Saint Pingning, anyway?”

“You mean area? About six million six hundred thousand square kilometers.”

“Six... six million six hundred thousand? You’re kidding! A landmass that huge in the sea, and no one’s discovered it?”

“Because from outside, Saint Pingning is no bigger than a single drop of water.”

“A drop of water?” Huasheng struggled to grasp her meaning. “You mean this whole six million square kilometers is hidden in a single droplet? And that droplet is hidden in the East Sea?”

“Yes.”

“So Saint Pingning has existed in the mortal world all this time, but has never been discovered?”

“Most mortals have no idea it exists.”

“Even for magic, that’s a bit much. What kind of droplet could hold such power?”

“It is a single tear of the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara.”

“You mean Guanyin?”

“Her true name is Avalokiteshvara.”

“I see. And where did this tear come from?”

“That’s a long story—one that begins before the founding of the New Calendar of the Sacred Realm.”

Huasheng was puzzled. “What do you mean, ‘New Calendar’?”

“The New Calendar is counted from the time Saint Pingning was moved into Avalokiteshvara’s tear. Before that, we refer to its history as the Old Calendar. Now it is year 1316 of the New Sacred Calendar.”

Huasheng was still trying to wrap his mind around it when the car slowed to a stop.

Heiyun said, “We’ve arrived. Saint Pingning’s history is long and intricate—too much to describe all at once. In time, you’ll come to know it yourself.”

Huasheng nodded, realizing it would be impossible to fully comprehend this miraculous realm in a single day.

“Let’s get out.”

They stepped from the car, and before them stood a stone archway as tall as a five-story building, with four great black characters inscribed above:

Shudao Academy.