Traveling back in time to Liu Feng, starting with rescuing soldier Guan Yu.

After Liu Feng and his generals agreed on a battle plan to attack Rangcheng in the north and threaten Wancheng, the army set off eastward early the next morning.

Apart from the two thousand men that Shen Dan brought to take over the defense of Nanxiang City, and the more than one thousand Fengzi Battalion under Kou Wei responsible for protecting the right wing, Liu Feng still had more than seven thousand troops under his command at this time, including two thousand of Shen Yi's troops, more than one thousand Dongzhou soldiers from Meng Da's old troops, and local young men from Nanxiang who had recently surrendered.

That day, the army had traveled dozens of miles continuously. Men and horses were exhausted. Liu Feng reined in his horses and looked into the distance. Before him stretched a range of peaks, one lone mountain standing out, like a sword reaching for the sky. White clouds swirled around its summit, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing, while the mountainside was covered in lush, verdant forests. The setting sun cast its golden rays, painting the mountains a magnificent amber hue. The fatigue from the continuous journey seemed to lessen somewhat at that moment.

"What a magnificent mountain!" Liu Feng murmured in praise. He turned his head and called out, "Where is the guide?"

A local man dressed in coarse cloth stepped forward, bowed, and asked, "What are your orders, Deputy General?"

Liu Feng raised his riding whip and pointed to the tallest mountain peak in the distance: "What is the name of this mountain?"

The local man looked in the direction the whip pointed and respectfully replied, "Reporting to the Deputy General, this mountain is called Wudang."

"Oh?" A strange light flashed in Liu Feng's eyes, then disappeared. "So this is Wudang Mountain?"

Wudang.

The ripples this name stirred in his heart were far greater than they appeared on the surface. As a lone soul from over a thousand years in the future, his understanding of this mountain did not stem from contemporary Taoist classics, but from the martial arts world depicted by Jin Yong. Of course, he knew even better that Zhang Sanfeng, the founder of a school of martial arts, was far from being born into this world at that moment.

Whether there are any Taoist practitioners who have built hermitages on Wudang Mountain at present is unknown.

Liu Feng withdrew his gaze and looked at the slightly exhausted soldiers behind him. Having marched dozens of miles, the soldiers and their horses were weary; further marching would likely erode morale. He pondered for a moment, then raised his voice: "Send down the order: the army will set up camp at the foot of Wudang Mountain tonight. Prepare food at midnight tomorrow and set off at dawn."

"Yes, sir!"

The messenger rode off, his orders echoing through the marching ranks. The army slowly came to a halt and set up camp in an open area on the southern slope of Wudang Mountain. The soldiers busied themselves setting up tents, preparing cooking fires, and keeping watch, while the captains counted their men; everything proceeded smoothly and efficiently.

As Liu Feng watched the smoke rising from the camp, he looked up at the majestic and mysterious mountain that appeared even more imposing in the twilight, and a sudden urge to climb it arose in his heart.

He summoned his personal guards, selected more than thirty riders, and instructed Kou Zun to properly arrange the camp affairs. Then he led his men on horseback towards the mountain road.

The mountain path winds its way through the mountains, with ancient trees towering on both sides.

The pines and cypresses stood tall, blocking out the sun, with only sparse patches of sunlight filtering through the leaves and dappling the flagstone path. The air was filled with the refreshing scent of pine resin and earth, soothing and invigorating. Horses hooves clattered on the flagstones, their clear, resonant sounds echoing through the valley.

The higher they climbed, the wider the view became. Liu Feng slowed his horse and looked around. He saw mountains embracing each other, layer upon layer of peaks. In the distance, a sea of ​​clouds surged, like cotton wool, with several higher peaks emerging from the clouds like isolated islands in the sea. The mountain wind whistled, making his clothes flutter, and also dispelling the pent-up frustration from the continuous march.

"What a wonderful paradise!" Liu Feng couldn't help but exclaim. Although he was not a scholar or poet, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride when faced with such magnificent scenery.

The accompanying guards were also awestruck by the scenery, and for a moment no one spoke, but quietly followed Liu Feng to continue climbing upwards.

After rounding a bend in the mountain, a breathtaking view suddenly appeared. A Taoist temple stood quietly on an open field halfway up the mountain.

The temple is small, with blue bricks and gray tiles, upturned eaves, and walls covered in moss and vines, showing its age. Above the gate hangs a plaque with faded characters, but the words "Zixiao" are still faintly discernible. In front of the courtyard stands an ancient ginkgo tree, its trunk so thick that it takes two people to encircle it, its golden leaves carpeting the ground, gleaming softly in the twilight.

The gate of the Taoist temple was half-closed, and the flickering incense could be vaguely seen in the courtyard.

Liu Feng dismounted, tossed the reins to his guards, straightened his armor, and ascended the steps. Pushing open the mountain gate, he saw a bronze incense burner in the courtyard, from which wisps of smoke rose. Behind the incense burner stood three halls, the central one housing a statue of a deity, though it was unclear which god it depicted.

On the stone steps in front of the hall sat an old Taoist priest, his beard and hair were all white, his face was thin and refined, and he wore a faded blue Taoist robe. A whisk rested on his lap. His eyes were slightly closed, as if he was meditating. Hearing footsteps, he slowly opened his eyes.

Those eyes were unusually clear for an old man; there was no cloudiness, no dimness, but rather like a clear mountain spring, crystal clear. The old Taoist priest glanced at Liu Feng, but didn't rise. He merely nodded slightly and asked in a calm tone, "Where does the general come from?"

Liu Feng clasped his hands in a salute: "I was passing through Baoshan when I saw its magnificent scenery and was filled with admiration, so I came to pay my respects. I hope you will forgive my intrusion."

The old Taoist priest looked him up and down, his gaze lingering on his armor for a moment, and said calmly, "General, with your armor on and weapons in hand, you are probably not here to seek immortality or ask questions."

Liu Feng smiled and said, "Daoist Master has discerning eyes. I am indeed entangled in worldly affairs and dare not hope for any immortal connection. However, after marching for days, I am exhausted both physically and mentally. Seeing the tranquility of your mountain, I wanted to come up and get some fresh air."

The old Taoist priest nodded and gestured for the general to sit down: "If you don't mind, please have a seat."

Liu Feng didn't stand on ceremony and sat down on the other side of the stone steps. His guards tactfully retreated outside the courtyard gate, leaving only two personal guards behind him.

As dusk deepened, a cool mountain breeze swept through the courtyard, scattering the smoke from the bronze incense burner. In the distance, the faint sound of pine trees rustling in the wind drifted by, like a gentle murmur.

After a moment of silence, Liu Feng spoke first: "How many years have you been cultivating in these mountains, Daoist?"

The old Taoist priest thought for a moment and said, "I entered the mountain as a young man, and it has been more than thirty years since then."

"Thirty years." Liu Feng's gaze turned to the distant, shrouded mountains in twilight. "In those thirty years, the world below these mountains has changed several times over."

The old Taoist priest remained silent.

Liu Feng continued, "Though I am not talented, I have studied for a few years. I remember that during the reign of Emperor Guangwu, the world was once at peace. But in just over a hundred years, eunuchs seized power, relatives of the empress interfered in politics, the Yellow Turban Rebellion broke out, Dong Zhuo wreaked havoc in the capital, and warlords carved up the land, leading to the current situation of the Three Kingdoms and endless war. On this march, I have personally witnessed desolation for hundreds of miles, with bones exposed in the wilderness. The people were displaced and resorted to cannibalism..."

His voice lowered as he said this, and after a pause, he continued, "I often wonder, when will this chaotic world end?"

The old Taoist priest listened quietly, his whisk resting motionless on his lap. After a long while, he slowly said, "General, you lead troops into battle and kill countless people, yet you possess such a compassionate heart; that is truly rare."

Liu Feng shook his head: "It's not that I'm being merciful. I just feel that war shouldn't be the norm. People shouldn't have to live under the threat of swords generation after generation. When a man is conscripted into the army, his parents are left without anyone to care for them, and the fields are left uncultivated. Ten years, twenty years, a generation is wasted like that. By the time the war is over, most of the people are already dead."

He stood up, walked to the ginkgo tree in the courtyard, and stroked its rough bark. His voice was soft, but each word was clear: "Since I am in the army and hold the position of deputy general, I should do my utmost to end this chaos as soon as possible. I want to restore peace to the people, so they can farm in peace and live a stable life. They should no longer have to worry about rebel soldiers coming to their doorstep, or watch helplessly as their loved ones die by the sword."

These words were simple and unadorned, without grand pronouncements or impassioned speeches, yet they carried a profound weight.

The old Taoist priest's gaze fell on Liu Feng's retreating figure, a barely perceptible ripple passing through his clear eyes. He remained silent for a long time, so long that Liu Feng thought he had no intention of speaking again.

Finally, the old Taoist priest said softly, "It is a blessing for the people that the general has such aspirations."

He stood up, flicked his whisk, walked to Liu Feng's side, and looked up at the ginkgo tree. The golden leaves rustled in the evening breeze, and a few occasionally drifted down, swirling and landing on their shoulders.

"I have lived in these mountains for thirty years, and I have seen countless spring flowers and autumn moons, and heard countless sounds of battle below." The old Taoist's voice was aged and calm. "I have seen many generals come and go. Some come to ask for divination, some come to pray for blessings and ward off disasters, and some come to seek immortality and medicine. But I have never seen anyone like you, a general, who comes up to speak not of his own future, but of the people of the world."

Liu Feng turned around and looked at the old Taoist priest: "You flatter me, Taoist priest."

The old Taoist priest shook his head, not responding to the question. He looked up at the sky; twilight had completely enveloped the mountains, and the last rays of sunset were gradually fading on the western horizon. A few scattered stars had already eagerly appeared in the deep blue sky.

"General, it's getting late," the old Taoist priest said. "I have something to say, but I don't know if I should."

Liu Feng cupped his hands in greeting: "Please speak, Daoist Master."

The old Taoist priest gazed at him, his eyes deep and unfathomable like an ancient well: "In my youth, I too harbored lofty ambitions like a general. Back then, the Great Master of Liang used talismans and water to provide relief to the world. Later, he led millions of people in rebellion against tyranny, seeking a way to survive for the poor and needy—what a compassionate heart he possessed! But later, the Yellow Turban Rebellion somehow became a tool for pursuing fame and fortune, and countless bones became the steps to the summit. It truly makes one sigh with regret!"

He paused, then continued, "The mountain is still the same mountain, the clouds are still the same clouds, but the world below is changing every moment. What changes is people's hearts, and also the will of Heaven. General, you must know that the will of Heaven is always difficult to fathom; what you can grasp is only your own heart."

Ha! He's actually a remnant of the Yellow Turban Rebellion.

Liu Feng pondered these words carefully, but could not immediately grasp their profound meaning. So he solemnly clasped his hands and said, "Thank you for your guidance, Daoist Master. Although I am dull-witted, I will remember your words today."

The old Taoist priest smiled slightly, a smile with an indescribable meaning, like satisfaction mixed with a sigh: "General, there's no need to thank me. If you're so inclined, when the world is at peace in the future, you might as well come back to Wudang Mountain. At that time, I'll invite you to have a cup of mountain tea."

"It's a deal," Liu Feng said loudly.

The old Taoist priest said no more, simply clasped his hands in a gesture of respect, then took a scroll from his robes and placed it on the stone steps beside him before turning and walking back into the hall. The half-closed hall door gently closed behind him, and the wisps of smoke from the bronze incense burner continued to rise, quickly merging into the vast twilight.

Liu Feng stepped to the stone steps and bent down to look at the scroll left by the old Taoist priest. His pupils contracted slightly. He saw that the scroll was tied tightly with yellow silk cloth, and four characters were written on it in Qin seal script: Taiping Yaoshu (Essential Techniques for Peace).