Chapter 50
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Qi Wuhuo asked curiously:
“Meeting my senior brothers?”
The old man shook his head at him and replied:
“You, ah, are you already getting excited? You’ll have to meet them eventually, of course.”
“But now, the night has just fallen, and this precious time cannot go to waste. As I’ve told you before, whether it’s refining Primordial Essence or absorbing Primordial Qi, there are time constraints; exceeding them can harm the body. However, since you’ve eaten some good things today, we won’t impose any limits this time.”
“Let’s see how long you can meditate.”
Qi Wuhuo nodded, suppressing his curiosity and anticipation. He went to the very front of the ship, sitting cross-legged and facing the cool night breeze. His right hand cupped his left, his thumbs lightly touching. He calmed his mind and began to absorb Primordial Qi.
But with just one cycle of breath, he felt faint streams of light flowing into his mouth.
It was as if moonlight itself was being drawn in.
Refining moonlight was not unusual in cultivation.
Yet in this place, it seemed especially concentrated.
So concentrated it was almost unbelievable—
One mouthful of moonlight entered his abdomen.
The food and drink he had consumed earlier transformed into pure energy and began to circulate intensely within his body.
For those who embark on the path of cultivation, at the very beginning, they must regulate their breath to absorb primordial qi, refining the vital essence of their body’s life treasures in pursuit of perfection.
This stage of cultivation was meant to progress gradually, requiring the patient effort of a grinding stone. However, Qi Wuhuo, due to having suffered a calamity in his youth, had his body fundamentally damaged. His body was like a water jar with cracks, constantly leaking Primordial Qi. Now, as an overwhelming torrent of Qi surged into him, it flowed through his body like an unending tide. The pure energy within him rose, mending those cracks.
The moonlight further tempered him, refining his Primordial Essence.
At this moment, Qi Wuhuo’s experience was far from the calm and steady progression of ordinary cultivation. Instead, two streams of energy—one internal and one external—interwove, causing a sensation of swelling pain throughout his body. As the cracks in his foundation were repaired, a mix of soreness and numbness arose. These myriad sensations came all at once, yet he had to maintain his composure, ensuring his breathing and Qi remained stable. The feeling was akin to hanging off the edge of a cliff with only one hand gripping its face.
Using only one hand to support his entire body, he felt an unbearable ache and sharp pain, as if a single slip would send him plunging into the abyss. Instinctively, he sensed that if his focus wavered, the two streams of pure energy within him would clash and disperse from his body.
Qi Wuhuo’s eyes remained closed as he slowly regulated his breathing.
Though his body endured immense pain and discomfort, his control over his Qi flow stayed steady, his breathing calm and even.
The old man, stroking his beard, nodded in approval. With a quiet chuckle, he stood atop the ship, watching over him.
“As the sun rises and the moon sets, the sun represents the heart, nature, and the Primordial Spirit; the moon represents the kidneys, destiny, and the Primordial Qi.”
“Only by cultivating both nature and destiny together can one walk the true path.”
The young Daoist was unaware of these truths.
He simply focused on his breathing and cultivation.
The vast, boundless river stretched endlessly into the horizon, its ripples shimmering with layers of starlight as if reflecting a sky full of stars. Yet, when one looked up, there were no stars in sight. The surroundings were silent, save for the colossal ship cutting through the ripples and waves as it slowly advanced.
The night breeze blew gently, but the moon was nowhere to be seen.
Looking down, a curious sight appeared—ah, the moon was in the water.
A colossal, perfectly round moon rested beneath the great ship, its radiance flowing outward as if cradling the vessel.
Onboard, the young Daoist continued his serene meditation. His entire body seemed enveloped in a faint glow of moonlight.
Qi Wuhuo could not tell how much time had passed. He only knew that the sensation of swelling pain and discomfort was almost unbearable. Yet, he silently told himself to hold on, just a little longer. Gradually, as time went by, the sharp pain began to fade, and the soreness, numbness, and itchiness ebbed away as well.
It was as though the cracks within his body were slowly being mended and disappearing entirely.
He could not say how much longer passed before his body stirred slightly, and he slowly opened his eyes.
What he saw was not the light of day.
Instead, the sky was filled with a sea of violet radiance, casting its glow into his eyes.
When he had begun meditating, the massive ship that could hold thousands had been beneath him. Now, the ship had vanished entirely. The expanse of violet light surrounded him like a heavenly dome reflected upon water. The place where he sat was nothing more than a single branch, floating atop ripples that spread outward in gentle waves. His hands were clasped in a mudra before him, the sleeves of his Daoist robe draping softly.
His heart was tranquil, undisturbed by fleeting thoughts. The sight before him brought an unexplainable peace to his mind.
A Daoist meditated amidst violet radiance.
Seagulls and herons floated by, unperturbed by the world.
He himself forgot all sense of self.
He did not know how much time passed until the violet light gradually faded, and wind and waves began to rise again. Suddenly, a voice came from the distance, accompanied by laughter. Qi Wuhuo saw the old man standing on the riverbank, stroking his beard with a smile.
“Wuhuo, have you awakened?”
“Come now.”
Qi Wuhuo, who moments before had been free of worldly thoughts, suddenly felt a ripple of emotion within his heart—a [return to attachment].
With this sudden shift, he could no longer maintain his elegant posture. He wobbled, let out a startled “Ah!” and fell straight into the water.
The old man burst into hearty laughter, as though it was a rare delight to see his typically composed and mature disciple in such a state. His mood visibly brightened.
Waving his hand, he beckoned the young man to come ashore. Qi Wuhuo climbed up, coughing as he stood. His black hair was thoroughly drenched, and he used his sleeve to wipe the water from his forehead.
The old man stroked his beard and said with a chuckle:
“Earlier, your mind was free of attachments, blending with all things. That’s why you could maintain that trace of profound tranquility.”
“But once your heart wavered, naturally, you fell into the water! Haha!”
For once, Qi Wuhuo showed a rare hint of defiance, replying: “It’s only because my cultivation is still lacking.”
“If my cultivation were higher, this wouldn’t have happened.”
The old man laughed: “Then I’ll be waiting to see it.”
When Qi Wuhuo turned to look back, the branch he had been sitting on was still floating in the water. It was completely soaked, rising and falling with the waves as it was tossed onto the shore. The branch, now covered in fine sand and pebbles, looked far more desolate and pitiful compared to its earlier prosperity of yesterday. The young Daoist pondered for a moment before bending down to pick it up.
The old man asked with amusement: “What, you can’t bear to part with it?”
Qi Wuhuo replied: “I just suddenly felt it’s a bit of a pity to leave it here.”
The old man chuckled, shaking his head in quiet mirth.
Watching the child wash the tree branch clean with pure water, then carefully dry it, he looked around for a place to store it. The sword box, though capable of holding items, was already occupied by a qin, a sword, and several scrolls, leaving little room. Concerned about damaging the books, the child thought for a moment.
Finally, he simply secured it at his waist, slipping it diagonally into the sash tied at his belt.
The elder observed the young Daoist’s actions and then shook his head with a smile..
Qi Wuhuo asked: “Teacher, which senior brother are we going to find?”
The elder stroked his beard and replied: “We shall go to the first place first. Follow me.”
He stepped forward, with Qi Wuhuo, carrying his sword box, following behind. Curious, the young boy asked:
“Teacher, what kind of person is this senior brother?”
The elder chuckled, and the youth heard him respond with a hint of nostalgia:
“Him? Let me think.”
“He holds a position in the imperial capital, known by the title ‘Revered Heavenly Master’.”
“Honored by the emperor, respected by all officials, he ascended the Immortal Platform to observe all phenomena and record the constellations of the stars.”
As the elder’s voice carried low in a melodic tone, the scenery around them began to shift. The tempestuous landscape gradually gave way to the bustling streets of the imperial capital. The sounds of street vendors and the chatter of passersby filled the air. Snow had recently fallen, blanketing the red walls and glazed tiles. High gates and towering walls lined the streets, where the clamor of the mundane world intermingled with a serene tranquility. The elder led the youth forward, their footsteps crunching over the snow, as he spoke in a calm, measured tone:
“He established the Path Enlightenment Hall, standing opposite the Hall of Literary Studies, where scholars of virtue across the realm become his disciples.”
“Every thirty days, he opens his altar to expound on the Dao, discussing profound truths and engaging in debates. It is said he can predict the calamities and fortunes of the ages and discern events from a thousand miles away.”
“He is titled the ‘Grandmaster of Profound Truths(Xuanzhen)’, with tens of thousands of disciples.”
“He is revered as a Patriarch, respected as a True Person, yet he lives a simple life. He indulges neither in women nor luxury, focusing solely on his cultivation of the Dao.”
The elder retrieved some coins and bought a roasted sweet potato for the youth. The young Daoist, dressed in a simple blue robe, held the warm treat in both hands, nibbling at it while exhaling puffs of hot breath in the cold air.
As they walked forward, the elder continued his slow introduction of the senior brother.
When their steps finally halted, Qi Wuhuo, clutching the still-warm sweet potato, looked up. Before him stood a vast yet unadorned building. Faintly, the sounds of various Daoist instruments playing could be heard. Practitioners of various levels of cultivation entered respectfully, while carriages of nobles and dignitaries lined the streets outside, stretching so far they nearly filled the entirety of Vermillion Bird Avenue.
Beyond the nobles and dignitaries, ordinary people in plain clothes and straw sandals moved about as well.
There were scholars engaged in lively discussions and common folk mingling among them.
Looking up, one could see towering pines and cypresses, their dense canopies even spilling over the high walls of the grand building. Faintly, the sound of Daoist teachings being expounded could be heard.
The teachings centered on the Dao of Innate Primordial Qi.
Profound and intricate, it formed a complete system of thought far beyond Qi Wuhuo’s current understanding.
The elder stroked his beard and said: “He is the first person you are to meet. I encountered him three hundred and seventy years ago. Even in the dilapidated temple on a stormy night, he could immerse himself in rigorous study. A man of insight, gifted and resourceful, capable of discussing the grand affairs of the world and delving into the mysteries of the Dao. He once spoke of aiding all under Heaven and, in the time it took to play a single game of chess, planned the fate of five centuries. And now, he has achieved much.”
“I once bestowed upon him the Daoist name [Yuyang]. Wuhuo, today you shall meet him.”
“And through meeting him, you will also come to [see] yourself.”
Qi Wuhuo quickly finished his roasted sweet potato in a few bites, the warmth still lingering. His eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought of meeting a senior brother from the same lineage. He asked eagerly:
“What should I say to him?”
The elder replied: “Ask him if he is willing to follow me on a journey of cultivation and exploration.”
His voice remained as calm and gentle as ever:
“Today, either he follows you out.”
“Or, his Daoist name will be revoked.”
Qi Wuhuo’s body froze. He felt the weight of these words and a faint chill, not from the tone or manner of speaking—for the elder’s voice remained warm—but from something deeper, something vast and indescribable. It was a coldness that transcended words, the kind of cold only the immeasurable and boundless could evoke. As a youth, he lacked the vocabulary or understanding to fully grasp it.
At that moment, he suddenly realized that this journey, this final lesson before parting, was not as simple as he had imagined.
Instinctively, Qi Wuhuo glanced at his teacher. But this time, he could not see the elder’s eyes clearly.
In the countless times he would recall this moment later in life, he would remember those eyes—not filled with joy, nor sorrow, but containing an extraordinary vastness of acceptance and tranquility.
It felt as if they held the boundless, distant essence of the Dao—profound, serene, and infinitely encompassing.
The elder placed a hand gently on his head and said warmly:
“Go.”
