At this moment, the old Taoist slowly rose, turned to face the crowd with a solemn expression, and said earnestly, "After I leave with Yun Liu, Yun Qi, and Yun Ba, you must all obey the arrangements and commands of your senior brothers Yun Si and Yun Wu. If any enemy dares to invade our Taoist temple, do not rashly confront them head-on. Simply pick up the Taoist scriptures you have studied and flee this place quickly, prioritizing your safety. Remember, life is the most precious thing; never lose your life due to a moment of impulsiveness." After speaking, the old Taoist sighed softly, seemingly filled with reluctance and concern. Then, he slowly opened an old wooden box, from which a faint sandalwood fragrance emanated. He carefully took out ten heavy gold bars, each gleaming with dazzling light, like ten brilliant stars. The old Taoist priest distributed the gold bars to his disciples one by one, and said earnestly, "These are turbulent times, and the situation down the mountain is unstable. If warlords capture the mountain gate, take this gold with you when you go down the mountain. It will be something to save your lives if you encounter danger. But remember, do not squander it. Cherish it. After the situation stabilizes, return here to continue your cultivation." The disciples accepted the gold bars one by one, their eyes filled with gratitude and determination. They knew the significance of this parting and were determined to remember the old Taoist priest's instructions, protect the Taoist temple well, and wait for their master and fellow disciples to return.
And so, the old Taoist seemed to have unloaded all his worries and burdens, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He slowly beckoned to Yun Shiba beside him, a hint of relief and expectation in his eyes, and said softly, "Shiba, you are the youngest among us, yet you are incredibly agile and exceptionally intelligent. This precious Taoist lightness skill manual is entrusted to you for careful study. Once you have mastered it, you will be able to leap lightly between rooftops like a bird, landing silently. I hope you will do many good deeds in the future and never commit any sins." Upon hearing this, Yun Shiba immediately knelt down, bowed solemnly, tears welling in his eyes, and choked out, "This disciple will remember Master's teachings and strive to be a kind person, never failing Master's expectations."
After settling his affairs, the old Taoist priest walked alone, slowly circling the back mountain. Each step seemed to tread upon memories deep within his heart, his thoughts drifting away. He then slowly returned to his temple, picked up the freshly ground ink and pen, and began to write on several sheets of clean paper. He meticulously recorded his life's experiences, both the hardships and the successes; he also carefully described the insights and understanding he had gained from years of practicing Taoist scriptures. The shortcut to cultivation from the half-finished mysterious celestial book was also solemnly inscribed within. His only regret was that when he obtained the celestial book, he was already in his fifties. If he had obtained it in his twenties or thirties, perhaps with his talent and diligence, he would have achieved great success. Perhaps this was fate's arrangement. The old Taoist priest's heart was in turmoil, and he couldn't help but sigh deeply in his heart. He pondered carefully, ultimately deciding against easily leaving the mysterious and unpredictable Heavenly Book to his disciples who usually followed him. Deep down, the old Daoist knew perfectly well that none of his eighteen disciples possessed that extraordinary perceptive ability; they would never truly learn the magical methods of the Heavenly Book. Even Yun Er, whose perception was relatively outstanding, despite displaying far superior sensitivity, hadn't successfully cultivated that profound and mysterious ability—the extraordinary power to control the minds of others. In short, the Heavenly Book was like a useless piece of paper to them, utterly incapable of fulfilling its potential. The old Daoist walked to the portrait of Yun Jizi, picked up the divination sticks, shook them a few times, drew one that had fallen, looked at it, and sighed gravely.
Several days later, the old Taoist slowly lifted a slightly worn bundle. Inside, nestled quietly, lay half of the mysterious celestial book. At the same time, he carefully clutched the shimmering silver hairpin left by his master to his chest, as if it were his most precious companion and guide on his journey. Then, resolutely turning around, he solemnly bid farewell to his disciples, whose faces were filled with doubt and reluctance. He then hurriedly led three disciples down the mountain, never to return to the place he had poured so much effort into, nor to appear before his disciples again.
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