Chapter 108
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The voice of that black-robed Daoist, reflected within his soul, still echoed in his ears.
The young Daoist’s fingers twitched slightly as he unfolded the scroll once more. It was still the first page, still the same characters. Those characters still carried a spiritual essence, and the moment Qi Wuhuo laid eyes on them, they reflected into his vision, transforming into the image of that black-robed Daoist. As before, he lay there lazily, reclining at an angle. As his eyes opened, he was just about to speak those eight words—
Qi Wuhuo abruptly snapped the scroll shut.
And so, the black-robed Daoist was pressed flat once again.
This repeated several times.
Qi Wuhuo suddenly realized—the figure was merely a lingering shadow.
This was not a divine ability.
Rather, when the brush met the paper, the writer’s will had naturally been imprinted within.
What a profound technique!
The young Daoist was deep in thought, full of admiration.
Then, without much thought, he once again smacked the scroll shut.
And so, the black-robed Daoist was once more sealed inside.
For some reason, even as a mere reflection, the figure seemed to exude an air of resigned helplessness.
Yet, after ‘comprehending’ that single line of text, Qi Wuhuo found it even more profound and unfathomable—beyond words.
The principle of Cloud Seals was to witness boundless and mysterious divine abilities with the naked eye—
And then record the myriad phenomena of the world through written characters.
Thus, when one later inscribed many Cloud Seal characters, they could, by channeling their spiritual energy, manifest the myriad aspects of the heavens.
To wield all kinds of inconceivable might, to reveal all sorts of unfathomable mysteries—
This was a divine ability.
In that case, the essence of these characters seemed to align with the principles of Cloud Seals. Yet, instead of merely transcribing, the writer had imbued them with his own will… The young Daoist brushed his palm over the characters, sensing the unrestrained and free-flowing nature within them. A sudden insight arose in his heart—If he were to write such characters himself, then anyone who laid eyes upon them would likely ‘see’ that black-robed Daoist directly.
Though it served no real purpose, it revealed a particular way of thinking—
I am the heavens and the earth.
A domineering and unparalleled Dao Heart manifested in the young Daoist’s eyes.
He had once observed the Dao contained within the Supreme Scarlet Spirit Script, had glimpsed the path of the Medicine Master Glazed Light Tathāgata—
Yet neither could compare to the sheer exhilaration and unrestrained clarity of these four simple words.
Three thousand Daos, countless side paths?
One sword cleaves them apart!
Why cultivate heaven and earth?
Why perceive all living beings!
I shall walk my own Dao!
The young Daoist could not help but sigh in admiration. “This too can be considered [Cloud Seals]?”
“The Daoist sects cultivate Cloud Seal Script to witness heaven and earth, to witness all living beings, to witness the myriad phenomena.”
“But in writing down these words, one is leaving behind a fragment of their own will.”
“The one who wrote this has substituted themselves for all phenomena, making their own existence the Cloud Seal Script. Such an intent—though it aligns with Daoist principles of embracing emptiness and avoiding ostentation—anyone who understands this divine method would realize that the true meaning behind these words is: [Seeing heaven and earth is not as meaningful as seeing me] and [worshiping the gods is not as worthy as worshiping me].”
“How formidable!”
“How domineering!”
“Yet, despite its dominance, only those who can comprehend these words will perceive its true meaning.”
“It seems humble—”
“Yet carries a self-assured pride, as if spoken only for those who can understand.”
A sudden insight arose in the young Daoist’s heart. He murmured to himself: “Seeing heaven and earth is not as meaningful as seeing me; worshiping the gods is not as worthy as worshiping me… Does this refer to the tangible me? Or to the [self] of one’s spirit and soul? Hmm? This seems to be a path of absolute self-sovereignty. Is this the Dao he cultivated?”
Qi Wuhuo muttered under his breath.
Yun Qin, seeing his expression, asked curiously: “Wuhuo, what are you talking about?”
“What do you mean, ‘seeing heaven and earth is not as meaningful as seeing me’?”
The young Daoist pondered for a moment, then pointed to the words before him and replied,
“I merely saw these words and felt as though I had glimpsed the person who wrote them, sensed his intent and the grandeur of his Dao. I gained some insight from it, so I spoke those words. This isn’t something I could have come up with myself—it’s only because I perceived his Dao and his heart that I was able to describe it, even if only slightly.”
The young girl was perplexed.
She did not understand why the young Daoist was so captivated by the characters themselves rather than reading the content written within the scroll.
Instead, you are interested in the words on it?
So, she asked.
The young Daoist smiled and said: “Just these characters alone are already like beholding the Great Dao. They are of immense benefit.”
He pondered for a moment and then gave an example that the girl before him would surely understand. “It’s like seeing a table full of delicacies. Even if you know there are even finer dishes yet to come, would you simply ignore the ones before you? Right now, I can’t even spare the attention to read the content—I just want to take in what lies within these characters.”
Yun Qin understood, yet at the same time, she didn’t.
What she saw was mere words.
But Qi Wuhuo looked at the words and saw much more.
As he contemplated, the form of those characters seemed to dissolve, leaving behind only a flowing Dao Rhythm. What his eyes perceived as text, his heart read as something else—Dao Rhythm, the indescribable profundities of Cloud Seal Script. He could not help but smile. As he read, his fingers unconsciously moved, tracing in the air. Faint glimmers of radiance swirled and flickered, brilliant yet pristine.
Though limited by his cultivation and unable to do much, it still felt like drinking the finest wine—filling his heart with delight.
Yet, knowing Yun Qin was waiting for his response, he restrained his joy and turned his focus to the text’s content—what the black-robed Daoist had once spoken to Yun Qin. That Daoist had committed his words to paper, and though he had held back while writing, he could not help but infuse them with a trace of Dao Rhythm.
“Truly incredible…”
Qi Wuhuo murmured in admiration.
His teacher had always guided him along the Dao, yet had never demonstrated such a method.
The contents of the text alone were mere illusions.
But this Dao Rhythm—
To Qi Wuhuo, it was as if the black-robed Daoist were standing before him, personally teaching him, hand over hand.
The path lay before him. How could he resist trying?
Yun Qin saw nothing extraordinary.
But to the young Daoist, it was as if he had discovered a priceless treasure.
It took all his restraint to suppress his urge to study the characters themselves, forcing himself to properly read the text recorded within the scroll.
“Mm… ‘Non-action and action are the Dao; without beginning or end is the Law.’”
“Yet all of it exists within a single thought of mine.”
Qi Wuhuo murmured to himself, as if he had gained some insight. But upon deeper contemplation, this Dao was simply too lofty, with no place for his understanding to take hold. He felt lost within it. For a long while, he sat in perplexity. Finally, he closed the scroll with a sigh. The profound Dao Rhythm within the characters and the lofty principles contained in the words intertwined yet remained distinct, resonating with each other while still existing apart. The more he tried to grasp it, the more vast and unfathomable it seemed.
His mind was left with only—Action and inaction, nothing cannot be done. No beginning, no end, only the Self, only the Dao.
His head began to ache.
And so, he decisively stopped thinking about it.
This Dao was too high.
Even a mere attempt to fathom it had left the young Daoist bewildered.
Raising his head, he met Yun Qin’s curious and slightly worried gaze. He could only smile helplessly and explain: “It’s too difficult.”
“Thinking about it made my head hurt.”
The young girl’s eyes lit up slightly.
She almost let out a quiet cheer.
But she quickly restrained herself, clenching her fist against her lips, coughing lightly, and speaking with a serious expression:
“Mm, yes! It’s very difficult!”
“I couldn’t understand it either.”
“Wuhuo, you don’t have to feel bad. I also think it’s really hard.”
The young Daoist hummed in acknowledgment, lowering his gaze to the scroll once more. Seeing the characters was like seeing that Daoist himself. He could faintly sense the essence of [Beholding the heavens and earth is not as great as beholding me] and [Worshiping the gods is not as great as worshiping me]. It was an aloof and domineering arrogance.
Like walking forward and suddenly looking up to see towering mountains.
Like crossing a small river, only to be met with a grand, boundless vista.
And so, he let out a deep sigh, feeling both awed and humbled.
“Indeed… too difficult…”
“I truly cannot imagine what kind of unparalleled genius could achieve such flawless harmony. Just seeing it fills me with awe.”
“Let alone understanding it.”
“I probably wouldn’t be able to answer him either.”
“At least, not at this moment.”
Yun Qin grinned, waved her hand dismissively, and said: “It’s fine if you can’t answer. I’ll tell him that.”
At that moment, the Old Yellow Ox finally came back to his senses, remembering the important matter at hand. He chuckled and asked,
“Oh, right, Wuhuo, what about that peacock? Has it hatched yet?”
Qi Wuhuo replied: “It has.”
Yun Qin’s eyes lit up immediately. “Where? Where?”
The young Daoist smiled slightly, raising his right hand. The wide sleeve of his Daoist robe draped down, concealing the inner pocket where the little peacock was nestled. With great care, he retrieved it. The tiny peacock was covered in soft down and was sleeping soundly. The old yellow ox was about to say something and then he saw that the peacock lay completely still in the young Daoist’s palm.
Its neck, limp and boneless, rested motionlessly on the boy’s fingertips.
It looked utterly lifeless.
The Old Ox’s face twitched. After a brief silence, he hesitated before cautiously asking:
“…Wuhuo, you’ve already given that essence to the little bird?”
The young Daoist nodded. “Mm.”
“Just as you wrote, Uncle Niu.”
“From weak to strong.”
“The first one was [Nine-Headed Lion Primordial Lord Sacred Spirit].”
“Is there a problem?”
The young Daoist looked puzzled.
The Old Yellow Ox’s thoughts froze.
Then, he raised a hoof to scratch his head and let out a forced laugh—
“Ah… ha… hahahaha! No problem at all! None whatsoever!”
Yet, inwardly, he was screaming.
Because of his habit of always writing in reverse order, Qi Wuhuo mistakenly took the strongest one as the weakest and fed it to the little peacock. Although its spiritual nature had already been removed, it still originated from the mount of the Taiyi Salvation Heavenly Venerable, whose status is extremely high. Since this little peacock had not undergone the prior nurturing process as preparation, it ended up eating the largest one in a single bite. Hopefully, it won’t be frightened out of its wits by the Nine-Headed Lion.
If that happened, no amount of treasures or careful cultivation would be able to save it.
It would only raise a useless creature exuding spiritual charm.
Yet, just as he was worrying, he saw that peacock smack its beak, rubbing against the young Daoist’s palm.
Then, it flipped over.
Revealing its round belly, covered in soft down.
Its beak opened and closed, smacking as if savoring the most peerless delicacy under the heavens.
Its expression was utterly lazy.
The Old Yellow Ox suddenly let out a chuckle.
Seeing this, it seemed there was no need to worry.
And indeed, for something that could survive three hundred years without perishing—
Setting aside its innate talent and foundation, it must at least be a tough one.
The Old Ox chuckled and asked: “Speaking of which, does this little bird need a name?”
Qi Wuhuo shook his head and said: “Didn’t Yun Qin say we should think of one together?”
The young girl’s eyes shone brightly as she nodded expectantly and said: “But we should wait until the little peacock wakes up and then decide together, right? What if the name we come up with isn’t to its liking? That wouldn’t be any fun.”
“Once it wakes up, we’ll come up with a nice-sounding name together!”
Qi Wuhuo nodded.
The Old Ox grinned and said: “Ah, so are we following our demon folk’s naming traditions?”
“One’s true form determines their surname.”
“For instance, I’m an old ox. And among my sworn brothers, I’m ranked third, so I took the name Huang San’er.”
“Huang means gold.”
“To outsiders, I simply say my name is Niu Jin.”
“My moniker is ‘Great Sage Golden Ox’, though no one acknowledges it, so I just call myself that for fun.”
“But who would’ve thought that after arriving in the Heavenly Court, I’d be assigned to the Battle Division? Among the many stars of the Ox Constellation within the Xuanwu Seven Mansions, I claimed one spot, so they added another ‘Niu’ to my name. And thus, I became [Niu Jinniu].”
Qi Wuhuo murmured: “Niu Jin…”
For some reason, he felt that ‘Golden Ox’ was an incredibly fitting name for Uncle Niu’s demeanor.
So he smiled and said: “A fine name.”
The Old Yellow Ox burst into hearty laughter. “Right?”
“When people think of me, they think of gold. When they think of gold, they think of money. And who doesn’t love money?”
“That’s why everyone likes me.”
“In that case, should this little bird take the surname [Kong] (孔) from ‘peacock’?”
“Or perhaps [Que] (雀) from ‘bird’?”
“Hah, whatever the case, just wait until it wakes up and ask it yourself…”
After some idle chatter—
The young girl repeatedly reminded him that next time, when he had some free time, he must go to the city and buy the finest, freshly baked sesame cakes for her. She also promised to prepare a return gift. The young Daoist agreed readily, but then suddenly thought of something and said: “Ah, Yun Qin, wait a moment.”
The girl stopped in her tracks and looked over curiously.
The young Daoist retrieved a scroll.
It was a blank scripture scroll from Lianyang Temple’s scripture archive, meant for copying sutras.
The young Daoist said: “I may not be able to answer his question, nor have I comprehended its meaning. But out of propriety, I should still offer a response.”
Qi Wuhuo dipped his brush in ink and first wrote the customary opening courtesies of a letter. Then he asked:
“What should I address that senior as?”
Yun Qin replied: “Uncle.”
The young Daoist looked up, momentarily stunned. “Ah?”
Yun Qin couldn’t help but laugh and said matter-of-factly, “He never told me his name.”
Qi Wuhuo asked: “Then how should I address him?”
The Old Yellow Ox yawned and shook his head. “If you call him senior, it sounds overly flattering. If you call him uncle, it seems a bit improper. All who walk the Great Dao are my friends. In such a case, Daoist Friend is always a safe choice.”
“Listen to your Uncle Niu.”
“Trust me.”
The young Daoist pondered for a moment, then nodded and set his brush to the paper:
‘Having witnessed Daoist Friend’s wondrous teachings is like drinking sweet dew, utterly refreshing. Yet I, being dull-witted, have found no solutions, nor grasped any understanding…’
‘I merely have a few lingering doubts as follows…’
‘The cloud is both unmanifested and manifested, existing within a single thought—yet what is this one thought? If there is neither beginning nor end, and all exists within a single thought, then what is this thought?’
‘Between one thought and the next, are they the same?’
‘If there is no beginning or end, where does this thought arise?’
‘Furthermore…’
The young Daoist had originally intended only to express his gratitude. Yet, without realizing it, he had poured out all of his doubts onto the page.
Then, he wrote: ‘These are but the foolish inquiries of one lacking insight, unworthy of mention.’
‘Merely laughable in the presence of one learned in the Great Dao. Yet, as doubts arise, they must be voiced. Thus, I have laid them forth, striving with all my heart in pursuit of understanding.’
‘For this reason, I leave this letter, daring to ask Daoist Friend for patience.’
‘This poor Daoist shall ponder deeply—perhaps I may gain some insight.’
‘With this, I offer my respectful bow.’
Just as he was about to write, a light laugh rang out. Yun Qin rested her chin in her hands and leaned in to read his writing. Smiling, she asked: “Wuhuo, are you going to write your real name? I mean, Uncle already wrote his name, so if you don’t write yours, doesn’t it seem a little strange? A bit improper in terms of etiquette?”
The old yellow ox added: “Back when I roamed across the eighteen roads—ahem—I mean, back when I did business, this was always a thing.”
“If the other party writes their name—”
“And you don’t, it’s like you’re looking down on them.”
“Also, it’s best to follow the same format. Keep things fair and proper, and there shouldn’t be any issues.”
The young Daoist hesitated.
His real name didn’t seem appropriate. Yet, he absolutely refused to reveal his Daoist title.
After much thought, he had only one name to use. He dipped his brush in ink, ready to write it down. But as he looked at the scroll before him, a thought suddenly surfaced. He placed down the ink-laden brush. Instead, he brought two fingers together, closed his eyes in silent contemplation for a long moment, then opened them.
Using his own Primordial Spirit as brush and ink—
He inscribed a line upon the scroll.
The strokes were upright and graceful, exuding warmth.
As if one could see the writer before them.
The name he signed was—
[In reply to Great Dao Sovereign, by Dao Sovereign Wuhuo]
