Chapter 52
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The elder’s voice lingered in the air as Qi Wuhuo looked up with confusion. “Never?”
The elder chuckled softly, amused. Then, with a playful tone, he teased:
“Wuhuo’s talent and comprehension are indeed excellent. Your natural intuition is quite sharp; you always sense when something is amiss.”
“From this perspective, if you were to pursue the Buddhist path, you might achieve great things.”
“But you’d have to shave your head.”
Seeing Qi Wuhuo’s bewildered expression, the elder couldn’t help but laugh. He chose not to continue the joke and, after a pause, spoke warmly: “‘Never’ means that, to him, it will be as though he never encountered me. He will not remember the connection of fate when I transmitted the Dao to him, nor will he remember meeting you today. His journey into cultivation will seem to him to have been no more than a serendipitous encounter.”
“There’s no need to dwell on such matters. Fate, once formed, is a fact.”
“However.”
“He will no longer be my disciple from beginning to end.”
“The arising and ceasing of fate—this is how it is meant to be.”
The elder’s tone was calm, as if discussing the most ordinary of matters. Then, smiling, he turned to the youth slowly eating the candied hawthorn and asked:
“By the way, Wuhuo, do you think he was wrong?”
Qi Wuhuo glanced back at the Path Enlightenment Hall, struggling to formulate a response. After a long silence, he finally said:
“Disciple believes he was not wrong.”
“One cannot say that just because he did not follow you, Teacher, he was wrong.”
The elder appeared quite satisfied, nodding with a smile. “What you said is correct.”
“Indeed, he did nothing wrong. He passed on the Daoist teachings and lineage, allowing the path he pursued to bloom throughout the mortal world. In the process, he avoided using any heretical methods. Instead, step by step, he steadily fulfilled the aspirations of his youth. Neither hurried nor delayed, he bore witness to countless events and lived through three centuries of spring and autumn.”
“Within the Dao Lineage he established, it is possible that others will also embark on the path of cultivation.”
“As for his attachment to fame and fortune, his inability to let go of the desire for wealth…”
The elder paused briefly, then smiled with carefree ease. “But who says fame and fortune are inherently wrong?”
He gazed at the bustling city ahead, walking alongside the young man step by step, passing by crowds of people. His voice was gentle as he continued: “To love fame and seek fortune, and to gain the respect of the world by spreading the Dao openly and uprightly—what fault is there in that? There is no problem, no error. But while it is not wrong, it does deviate from the Dao.”
“To pursue fame and fortune is permissible.”
“But when it is time to let them go, one should not hesitate.”
“In the Daoist path, the first principle must always be [transcending the mundane world].”
Qi Wuhuo pondered this and asked: “Transcending the mundane? Is that why Teacher wanted to take him on a journey across the world?”
This time, to Qi Wuhuo’s surprise, the elder shook his head and replied with a playful grin:
“No, not at all. Even if he had chosen to come out, I wouldn’t have taken him with me.”
“Traveling the world with someone else? How exhausting.”
“I would have left him here to remain as the Heavenly Master.”
Qi Wuhuo froze. “What?”
The elder, seemingly amused by the boy’s bewildered expression, burst into hearty laughter. After laughing for a long while, he finally bent slightly, his hand reaching out to tap lightly on Qi Wuhuo’s heart with his finger. With a warm smile, he said: “This is the first line of the first lesson. Remember it well, Wuhuo.”
“To transcend the mundane world does not mean physically leaving it but refers to the state of one’s heart.”
“Though the metaphor may not be entirely precise, it is sufficient for Wuhuo to understand.”
“Let the body be like the roots of a lotus, and the heart like its flower. The roots are in the mud, but the flower reaches into the void.”
“A true cultivator of the Dao is one whose body resides in the mundane world, but whose heart dwells in the sacred realm.”
The elder’s eyes held a serene warmth as he continued: “Had he truly stepped out, then whether or not he left this place—what difference would it make?”
“But he didn’t ‘step out’.”
“What a pity…”
Qi Wuhuo felt a tremor within.
If his senior brother’s failure to step out had previously only struck him as a regretful choice, the elder’s words now carried a weight that struck even deeper—a more profound truth.
The elder waited with a smile, giving Qi Wuhuo time to reflect. Only when the boy had finished the candied hawthorn did he begin leading him forward again. As before, their pace was slow and unhurried. Yet, much like the rippling, starlit sea from earlier, the vibrant sights and sounds of the mortal world—the hawkers’ calls, the bustling shouts, the steaming, lively energy of the red dust—faded in an instant. With just a few steps, they had already arrived at a tranquil mountain landscape.
Meanwhile, within the Path Enlightenment Hall, the True Person—who, as a youth, had encountered a serendipitous opportunity in an ancient temple and comprehended profound cultivation methods from the inscriptions on a stone tablet—suddenly froze in place. For reasons he could not understand, a deep sense of loss and longing arose within his heart. It was as if something intangible yet vital had slipped away from him. In the depths of his mind, he seemed to hear an aged voice, sighing sorrowfully—“What a pity.”
This one sigh of regret, this lifetime of regret.
It feels like an illusion, and yet it lingers endlessly.
This True Person, now over three hundred years old, found himself overwhelmed by an inexplicable sorrow—a grief that defied words.
Stumbling back a few steps, he fell to his knees amidst his many disciples, tears streaming down his face.
He did not know why.
Nor did he know for whom he wept.
The elder led Qi Wuhuo onward.
The breeze was gentle, and in the skies above, colorful Luan birds soared gracefully.
A stream flowed from the distance, winding around one side of the mountain. Surrounding them were bamboo groves, seas of flowers, and countless picturesque sights, all encircling a small courtyard.
In front of the courtyard stood a young woman, her appearance still pure and graceful. She smiled softly as she gazed at the distant scenery. Sitting in a chair before her was an elderly man with a head full of white hair. The two seemed to be conversing, their expressions filled with a quiet closeness. Curious, Qi Wuhuo asked: “Is that Senior Brother?”
The elder replied: “No, that would be Senior Sister.”
Qi Wuhuo paused, surprised.
The elder stroked his beard and explained: “In many ways, she is quite similar to you. When she was young, her parents sold her off to another family to be their daughter-in-law. She escaped, only to fall into calamity after trusting the wrong people. She ended up in dire straits, even being forced into the dust of the mortal world. In her desperation, she took a pair of scissors, scarred her own face, and fled. Her determination was unwavering, she journeyed for seventeen days to escape danger. Her heart remained unsullied by the mundane, and her sword intent carved into her bones. Such resolve made her worthy of the true Dao.”
“At that time, I took her in as my disciple, raising her for thirteen years and traveling the world with her. I bestowed upon her the Daoist title [Yumiao].”
“Later, she roamed the world, acting righteously and meeting fellow seekers of the Dao. Along the way, she encountered a man…”
“The two fell in love at first sight. Over time, their relationship remained harmonious. However, that man’s cultivation was not sufficient to sustain him. While your Senior Sister remained youthful, he began to lose his Essence, Qi, and Spirit, his vital energy slowly leaking away. His appearance aged day by day.”
Qi Wuhuo looked toward True Person Yumiao in the distance.
She still appeared as if she were in her prime, no different from a maiden in the bloom of her youth.
The man beside her, though still possessing some Daoist cultivation and not excessively aged, now had graying temples and wrinkles lining his face. His essence and vigor were steadily draining away. It was easy to imagine that, in time, his aging would accelerate far beyond that of an ordinary person.
The elder spoke calmly: “And that was eight hundred years ago.”
The boy froze, staring at his teacher in disbelief.
The elder maintained his tranquil tone. “Eight hundred years ago, when that man was nearing the end of his life, she chose to sever her ties with me and left the sect to avoid burdening me.”
“Afterward, she stole a celestial pill from the Heavenly Palace, provoking the Marshal Protector of the Southern Gate. Relying on her considerable skills, she fought against the celestial soldiers and generals. Ultimately, she was gravely injured by General Yuan Gang of the Jinglang Thunder Palace. It was your eldest senior brother who saved her life. Humbled, she cast aside her lifelong pride and knelt outside the Purple Mansion for seven days and seven nights, begging me to help extend that man’s life and aid his cultivation. Wuhuo, what do you think I did?”
The elder turned his gaze toward the young man and, in a detached yet gentle voice, said:
“I refused.”
“She bore no resentment. She merely kowtowed nine times and, from that moment, left the Daoist lineage, retreating into seclusion here.”
“After that, she sought out the underworld and delved into various secret arts.”
“Using treasured artifacts and pills as payment, she bargained for the man to reincarnate multiple times as a human, ensuring that generation after generation she would find him amidst the vast sea of people, and that no matter his identity, he would remain devoted to one person in every lifetime.”
“All because, in the past, she once made him a promise.”
“”May we, lifetime after lifetime, forever hold each other dear..'”
Qi Wuhuo watched the scene before him. He was familiar with those stories—ones that spoke of envying the love of mandarin ducks rather than the immortals, of love that could move heaven and earth. Yet he had always thought of them as merely tales. But today, witnessing it with his own eyes, he couldn’t help but feel his heart stirred. However, in the very next moment, when he became aware of his own identity, he already understood what he was about to do.
The young Daoist spoke quietly:
“I am to ask if she is willing to return to the sect and resume her cultivation.”
“And if not, to bring back her Daoist title as well?”
The elder’s expression remained as gentle as ever. His gaze rested on the one he had once raised for thirteen years, the child who had grown into the woman before them now. She seemed content, perhaps even profoundly so, living far from the mundane world, like an immortal beyond the dust of the mortal realm. She had reached the extremes of both emotion and the Dao, and her cultivation appeared to have attained profound insights. Yet, in the end, the elder uttered only two words:
“Go then.”
Gentle and tranquil, vast and encompassing, yet leaving no room for reversal.
There is something shapeless yet complete, born before Heaven and Earth.
Silent and formless, it stands alone and unchanging.
It moves in cycles without exhaustion and can be the called the Mother of All Under Heaven.
I do not know its name, so I call it the Dao.
It is not for the one who seeks the Dao to pursue names.
Strip away its name.
Qi Wuhuo closed his eyes, feeling the joy he once held after becoming the elder’s disciple gradually settle down.
The sight of this woman, her story, and her choices struck his heart like a hammer, leaving his heart deeply shaken.
Qi Wuhuo exhaled slowly, clasped his hands, and bowed deeply.
“Disciple Xuanwei accepts the order.”
To [see] them.
And to [see] yourself.
These words echoed in the young man’s heart.
They temper me, and I save them.
Turning away, Qi Wuhuo’s sleeves swept through the air, flowing with a quiet grace as they fell.
Though his brows still carried the youthfulness of inexperience, there was now a trace of the poise and bearing of one walking the Dao.
Such was the forging of the heart, vast and boundless from the very first step. The teachings of the Taishang lineage were incomparably pure, exalted, and utterly stringent.
The Twelve Golden Immortals roam freely, wielding countless treasures; a myriad of immortals, vast and magnificent, possess boundless divine abilities.
Yet, no one dares to claim they can surpass Xuandu, that one person.
The Daoist path of cultivation is the most arduous, the most challenging, and the most supreme.
As it should be.
