Chapter 109
Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW
You can buy coins here to unlock advanced chapters: https://gravitytales.com/coins-purchase-page/
Qi Wuhuo once again performed the Xuantan technique, delivering the scroll containing his personally written reply to the Old Yellow Ox at Ox Constellation.
The Old Yellow Ox caught the scroll in one grasp but did not open it. Instead, he merely glanced at the words on the title page and chuckled, sighing: “Both sides address each other as Dao Sovereign, yet neither uses their true name. This reminds me of the years when I called myself the Great Sage Golden Ox. It was merely a private jest, yet when others saw it, they couldn’t help but laugh.”
“But not using one’s true name and instead going by an alias—this too is a refined amusement.”
“Throughout history, those True Persons often had at least seven or eight different names.”
“Many exchanged letters, yet upon meeting in person, they knew nothing of each other.”
“I hope you won’t encounter such a situation, Wuhuo.”
The young Daoist was puzzled. “Hmm? I was only thinking—Uncle Niu, you already used ‘Dao Sovereign Wuhuo’ for me when writing the Jade Book.”
“Having discarded my given name and Daoist title, this is the only name I have left, so of course I used it.”
The Old Yellow Ox was momentarily stunned before suddenly bursting into laughter.
“This is a name? That’s all?”
“Hahaha!”
“You truly are still a child!”
The Old Ox handed the scroll to Yun Qin, instructing her to store it carefully and deliver it to the recipient when the opportunity arose. Seeing that Qi Wuhuo looked utterly exhausted from performing the Xuantan technique, the Old Ox smirked and said: “But Wuhuo, though your comprehension is high, you must still be mindful of your cultivation realm. The Xuantan technique merely borrows power, yet you are already this fatigued.”
“If one day you truly have to perform some great divine ability, wouldn’t you be completely drained?”
The Old Ox’s words were meant as sincere advice.
Yet, as soon as he brought it up, he recalled how he himself had nearly exhausted all his own power just from using the Xuantan technique earlier. He suddenly found himself unable to continue speaking.
His tone, however, became a little more solemn. “You must study divine abilities recorded in the scrolls, but your cultivation must also keep pace.”
“Otherwise, even if you comprehend all the Daoist scriptures in existence—”
“If your Primordial Qi withers and your Primordial Essence is insufficient, and you fail to condense even a single strand of Innate Qi—”
“Then, in the end, you will have no choice but to follow the path of the Yin God.”
The young Daoist nodded.
The Old Ox nodded in approval as well, murmuring, “A teachable child.” Then, as if suddenly recalling something, he added: “Wuhuo, you should be wary of those bald donkeys recently.”
“That lot is full of crooked ways and deceitful words.”
“Just today, out of the goodness of my heart, I went to deliver something to that Medicine Master Glazed Light Tathagata, and that damned Moonlight Universal Illumination Bodhisattva wouldn’t even let me through the door!”
“He blocked me right outside.”
“As if I were some kind of thief!”
“That alone was enough to break this Old Ox’s heart.”
“And that wasn’t even the worst of it—he even said that you are half a master to their Medicine Master Glazed Light Tathagata.”
“He wants to invite you to the Pure Glazed Buddha Kingdom for a cup of tea.”
“Pah!”
“Who hasn’t been to the Pure Glazed Buddha Kingdom? If I were to step in there, I’d be forced to sit on a lotus platform for at least an hour before they let me leave.”
“Your cultivation is not strong enough. If you go, you’ll be easily bewitched by them. Once you fall into their hands, you might not be able to leave for quite some time. If you stay too long, who knows? You might actually abandon the Dao for Buddhism, sit yourself down on a lotus platform, and that would be terrible!”
Yun Qin asked, “A half-master to the Buddha?”
The Old Ox sneered. “They have no shame at all, to even say something like that.”
“Isn’t that right, Wuhuo?”
The young Daoist shook his head. “I am no half-master to anyone.”
The Old Yellow Ox’s face naturally twisted in anger as he began to curse under his breath, then turned to Yun Qin to warn her:
“You see…”
But before he could continue, the young Daoist calmly replied: “I only spoke with the Medicine Master for an hour.”
!!!
The Old Yellow Ox’s expression slowly froze.
His massive head lowered bit by bit as he stared blankly at the reflection of the young Daoist in the mirror. His large oxen skull seemed to stop turning altogether. A long silence followed. Finally, all traces of his usual playfulness vanished, and his gaze became serious as he fixed his eyes on Qi Wuhuo and asked: “…Did you make him enter Nirvana?”
The young Daoist thought for a moment before answering: “No. According to the Buddhist teachings, he attained enlightenment and liberated himself.”
“While we conversed, he was actually observing his own true heart, clearing away distractions.”
“As one sees the mountains and rivers, as one beholds the flowing waters.”
“If that led to sudden enlightenment, then it can only mean he was already reflecting upon these truths.”
“He turned back on his own.”
“Besides, I gained much from our exchange as well. We merely discussed our respective paths.”
“The Four Noble Truths, the Five Aggregates, the Eight Sufferings, the cycles of creation and destruction, the impermanence of samsara—I now gained some understanding of them all.”
The Old Yellow Ox was utterly dumbfounded.
To prove he was not joking—and perhaps because of a young man’s natural desire to demonstrate his abilities before an elder—the boy playfully raised his right hand before his chest, forearm perpendicular to his body. His fingers naturally extended upward, palm facing outward. A faint and pure golden radiance of Buddha light seemed to flicker into existence. His gaze lowered slightly, calm and compassionate, as he formed the Abhaya Mudra—the seal of fearlessness. With a hint of mirth in his voice, he spoke: “If I had truly delivered him, rather than him achieving enlightenment on his own—”
“Then how would that be any different from [delivering all beings into extinction]?”
“If that’s the case, then our entire conversation was utterly meaningless.”
“Hmm, thus have I heard.”
The Old Ox felt as if a breeze had swept across his heart, bringing a trace of tranquility to his spirit. There was no longer any fear.
This familiar sensation made the Old Ox sigh deeply.
“The Mudrā of Fearlessness from the Buddhist sect?!!”
“Have you entered Buddhism?”
The young Daoist lowered his hand. The aura around him remained that of the Daoist path as he replied: “No.”
“I merely saw the Medicine Master use it before. Since I had also drawn upon his Buddhist power, I ended up learning a single seal as well.”
“Uncle Niu, if you give it a try, you could learn it too.”
The Old Ox stared at the young Daoist.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
From between his teeth, he forced out a phrase—a crude insult among the demon race, often exchanged when cursing at each other—
“Cao.”
It was the only word that could express the intensity of his emotions.
I can’t!
That mudrā…
I, Old Niu, spent three whole years trying to learn it!
Beside him, the young girl raised her head, puzzled, looking at the usually honest and simple Uncle Niu, her face full of confusion.
Uncle Niu slowly exhaled, lowered his head, and explained,
“Cao is a type of plant.”
The girl suddenly understood.
At long last, the [Round Light Manifestation Technique] finally came to an end. Yet, the Old Yellow Ox felt as if he had been struck by a dual assault—one upon his heart, the other upon his spirit. Exhausted beyond measure, he wanted nothing more than to return home and sleep for days. With a heavy sigh, he muttered:
“I thought it was Wuhuo who had fallen into the hands of the bald donkeys, but now, it seems more like the bald donkeys have fallen into Wuhuo’s hands.”
“Still, the Medicine Master, Glazed Light Tathāgata, is the most even-tempered among them.”
“Among the Thirteen Lineages of Buddhist Dharma, there are many who remain obstinate, refusing to turn back. I only hope Wuhuo never crosses paths with them…”
The young girl beside him asked curiously: “What would happen if he did?”
“Could they really trouble Wuhuo?”
Confidence shone in her eyes.
The Old Ox wanted to say that those monks were incredibly persuasive when it came to speaking of Dao, but after some thought, he swallowed his words.
Instead, he replied: “With such outstanding aptitude…”
“Those monks would most likely tie him up and shave his head first before anything else.”
“Old Niu once saw a monk who, just to convert a scholar into his disciple, forcibly separated him from his wife, shaved his head against his will, and then suppressed him beneath a pagoda for a full fifty years until he was completely converted.”
Qi Wuhuo finished the [Round Light Manifestation Technique], and the mirror before him gradually dimmed once more.
As his palm brushed across its surface, his previous suspicion was confirmed—the mirror had undergone a subtle transformation. Originally, its surface had been coated in a greenish patina, corroded by time, bearing the decay of countless years. But now, its depths had taken on an enigmatic luster. Though the copper-green tarnish remained, its essence had shifted.
It now exuded a vastness, like a starry sky stretching endlessly into the depths of the night.
Qi Wuhuo could sense that if he infused it with his spiritual energy, the mirror would undergo further changes.
Yet at this moment, his spiritual energy was already depleted.
Recalling the Old Yellow Ox’s advice, the young Daoist sighed softly. “My cultivation is still too shallow.”
Cultivation was a gradual process—nourishing the self, reversing three into two, reversing two into one, moving ever closer to the Great Dao.
It was a path that could only be walked step by step. There was no shortcut to instant success.
He carefully placed the mirror back into its wooden box. His Primordial Spirit was also greatly fatigued, making it impossible for him to continue reading that ordinary book. If he forced himself to push on, not only would he fail to comprehend its contents, but he might also further deplete his Primordial Spirit, knocking himself unconscious for seven days and seven nights.
Instead, he simply took out the peach preserves that Yun Qin had prepared.
He placed a piece in his mouth. Sure enough, it was soft and chewy upon entry, entirely different from the crisp texture of fresh peaches.
There was also a hint of sweet and sour.
The young Daoist closed his eyes and said: “Delicious.”
The peacock was fast asleep, either having overeaten or perhaps lost in some unspeakable sweet dream. It was still morning. Under the trees of Lianyang Temple, Qi Wuhuo flipped through an ordinary volume of the Daoist Canon. Looking up briefly, he caught sight of the Luzu Tower, where a paired sword hung from above. Then, lowering his gaze once more, he leisurely turned another page and reached for another piece of peach preserve, placing it into his mouth.
Meanwhile, the little Daoist earnestly studied before the Sanqing Hall, cultivating his breath and refining his practice.
Between the cracks of the blue stone pavement within the temple, small rivulets of water had pooled, reflecting the sky and drifting clouds—an elegant and tranquil sight.
At noon, they had a simple bowl of plain noodles. Afterward, Qi Wuhuo pulled Mingxin along to the infirmary in the city to offer assistance.
Though the rain had dispersed much of the miasma from the epidemic, the illness lingering within human bodies still required time to heal. Qi Wuhuo carried a bamboo basket filled with medicinal herbs on his back, while the little Daoist beside him walked along a narrow ledge on the city wall—barely wider than the palm of a hand—arms outstretched, wobbling forward step by step.
The young Daoist asked: “Why not walk on the road instead?”
The little Daoist replied solemnly: “Because if I step down, I will die.”
“On this path, I must walk on the ledge!”
Qi Wuhuo was momentarily stunned, but then he understood—it was just a child’s playful game, much like stepping only in the shadows and avoiding the sunlight while walking. A game played between oneself and oneself. So he merely chuckled, shook his head, and slowed his pace, reading his book as he walked. Beside him, the little Daoist stretched his arms to maintain balance, swaying as he advanced.
Such was time.
They passed by a congee stall.
The rich aroma of meat porridge filled the air, but the little Daoist did not look toward it.
They had already eaten plain noodles today.
As delicious as the meat porridge was, it should be left for those with empty stomachs.
Someone was calling out, but the two Daoists didn’t think they were the ones being addressed—until the voice grew closer and closer. With a laugh, the caller said, “Haha, two Daoist Masters, please wait, please wait.” Qi Wuhuo turned around, slightly surprised. Someone was calling him, but it wasn’t a servant—it was the young county prince himself, dressed in luxurious robes, who had personally run over with a smile, saying:
“At last, the two of you stopped.”
“Any longer, and I would have had to call out even louder.”
The Little Daoist Mingxin hopped down from the ledge, performed a formal Daoist greeting, and with an air of seriousness little a little adult, asked:
“May I ask what matter has prompted this layman to call upon us?”
The young prince chuckled and said: “I simply heard that others were also sprinkling realgar water yesterday, which made me quite curious. So, I came to take a look.”
“I just wonder—why were the two Daoist masters pouring realgar water on the streets?”
Hm?
Why ask about that?
Mingxin instinctively glanced at Qi Wuhuo.
The young Daoist answered: “…The city is filled with epidemic miasma. Realgar is used to ward off evil and dispel toxins.”
The prince asked: “Why mix it with water?”
The Daoist replied: “The city has seen little rainfall, so the water helps replenish moisture.”
The young prince’s eyes flickered with surprise. Then, he clasped his hands together and smiled. “Master Daoist, you are truly kindhearted. Your reasoning is exactly the same as what my elder sister said. Admirable, truly admirable. But, why not use realgar today?”
The Daoist said: “The rain has already scattered the miasma. Now, we must guard against the cold.”
The young prince seemed to ponder this for a moment. He smiled but said nothing more. After chatting for a while, he asked them to wait briefly, then turned and quickly ran to the congee stall. There, he picked up a ladle with practiced ease, lightly skimming the surface, then sinking it deep before slowly lifting it up again. His movements were so skillful that even the seasoned workers who made a living from this task would nod in approval.
An expert’s technique!
This was the best way to scoop out the thickest portion of the meat congee.
Holding a bowl in each hand, he trotted back and handed them over with a hint of pride.
“The weather is cold. Drink some congee to warm up before tending to the sick.”
The young Daoist took a bowl, stirred it lightly with his chopsticks, took a sip, and was slightly surprised. Mingxin, however, blurted out:
“This taste, it’s a bit spicy… Eh? Is this ginger?”
Qi Wuhuo said: “Ginger has a pungent taste and warm nature. It dispels cold from the exterior, warms the middle to stop nausea, and soothes the lungs to relieve coughs.”
“It doesn’t overpower the dish’s flavor. In fact, it neutralizes some of the meat’s gaminess and enhances the aroma.”
“Layman, you have been most considerate.”
The young prince’s lips curved slightly, showing a restrained but proud smile. He replied modestly:
“It was my elder sister’s suggestion, that’s all.”
The young Daoist said: “Your esteemed sister is wise and capable.”
The young prince beamed. “She is!”
“My sister is the most intell—cough, cough… I mean, she is truly virtuous and wise.”
“Master Daoists, take your time. If you return later today, I will save some warm food for you. We can also chat for a while. I have always admired people like you, who serve the people. No need to decline.”
Qi Wuhuo and Mingxin walked away.
The little Daoist stretched out his arms to maintain balance as he walked along the narrow ledge of the steps, mumbling,
“That guy is so strange… He seems happier when praising his sister than when being praised himself.”
Qi Wuhuo recalled the many things he had learned from his dream of the Yellow Millet, piecing together details in his mind. This young prince seemed different from what he had once been—not as self-indulgent or decadent. Perhaps it had something to do with his sister. As he considered this, he casually asked: “What do you think of him, Mingxin?”
The little Daoist thought for a moment and replied: “He’s interesting.”
“Not like the usual people at the congee stalls.”
“Those people, their noses are so high in the air they might as well touch the sky. They expect everyone to kneel and call them ‘master’ a few times.”
“But he doesn’t act superior. I feel like he can chat with anyone.”
“And what I like best is that he charged for the congee today. Even if it was just a single coin, it meant people could drink with peace of mind—because they had paid for it. It felt like a proper exchange. And for those without money, they could help with chores to earn a bowl…”
“That’s really good.”
He added: “Though, he does seem a bit silly. This is probably all his smart sister’s doing, right?”
After Qi Wuhuo had left, a handsome young man arrived at the congee stall and saw the young prince busily working. He said,
“Distributing congee like this is certainly a way to win people’s hearts. But why do it yourself?”
The young prince, dressed in fine robes, replied: “I didn’t come here to win people’s hearts.”
“Ha, alright then… Hmm? The medicinal recipe changed today?”
“Yes. Earlier, my sister mentioned that this year’s epidemic is strangely stronger than in past years. So, she prepared a prescription—mild yet balanced. It won’t overly nourish the strong, and even those with weak bodies can recover gradually. It’s called [Screening Wind Powder]. The idea is to form a [Jade Screen] in front of the body, shielding against external evil influences.”
“The common folk are born into hardship. We can’t do much, but we should do all we can.”
The handsome young man clapped his hands in admiration. “Well said—‘do all we can.’”
“Your sister is truly remarkable—strategy, cultivation, qin-playing, medicine—she excels in them all.”
“A peerless beauty, indeed.”
“Ahem, now, I’d say I’m quite the handsome and talented man myself. As a direct descendant of the Five Surnames and Seven Clans, with my sister off to the Daoist sects, the Cui family is practically mine. So really, why not just start calling me ‘brother-in-law’ already?”
The young prince laughed and scolded: “My sister received the orthodox teachings of [Nurturing the Primordial Spirit] when she was still young.”
“And a year ago, when she awoke from that nightmare, she became even more devoted to cultivation.”
“She abandoned all riches and splendor, left the palace behind.”
“Besides, someone like you? How could you possibly catch her eye?”
Cui Shaoqing, young master of the Cui family, sighed in exaggerated regret, then changed the subject. “Still, Screening Wind Powder—what a brilliant name.”
“Truly worthy of your sister.”
“Even in naming things, she is so vivid and precise.”
The young prince smiled. “Though I do enjoy hearing you praise my sister, the name wasn’t actually her idea.”
“She said that in the dream she had, someone told her about it.”
His voice faltered slightly, and he frowned a little. His sister had long since forgotten most of that nightmare, but strangely enough, she still remembered a few details related to a certain friend. According to her, it was as if that strange yet vivid dream had centered around that friend, and she had merely been swept into it by chance, obtaining some unknowable opportunity along the way.
Shaking off the thought, he looked up and added: “A friend skilled in playing the qin.”
“Their surname was Qi… Qi something?”
“I’ve forgotten.”
