Chapter 86
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Tao Taigong had been drunk, yet that mysterious call, echoing directly in the depths of his heart, dissipated his intoxication. Though his drunkenness faded, he did not truly awaken. Sitting up, he looked around, only to find himself in a boundless expanse of white mist. Clouds churned and billowed, ethereal beyond compare.
This was clearly not the Land Deity’s shrine.
Yet, he sensed nothing unusual.
Instinctively, he rose and walked forward, following the voice that called him. Suddenly, he beheld celestial flowers drifting from the heavens, golden lotuses blooming from the earth, and countless streams of radiant light converging and swirling together. In this half-awake, half-dreaming state, Tao Taigong seemed to understand—this was the descent of an immortal deity. At once, he raised his hand to neaten his robes and cap, then took a few hurried steps forward. Bowing with utmost reverence, he was just about to speak—when his gaze fell upon the face of the deity amidst the celestial radiance.
For the second time that night, Tao Taigong was utterly shaken.
His words came out in a stammer: “Qi… Qi Wuhuo?!”
The young Daoist scanned his surroundings, his gaze sweeping over the many wondrous phenomena.
Tao Taigong thought he saw the youth lower his eyes and shake his head slightly, murmuring to himself: “So these incantations have the following effects…”
“I see.”
Then, with a sweep of his sleeve, the clouds, the divine radiance, the golden lotuses, and the drifting celestial flowers—all the illusions of an immortal’s descent—vanished without a trace.
Before Tao Taigong’s eyes stood only a young man clad in simple blue robes, just as before.
Lost in the dream, devoid of self-awareness, Tao Taigong muttered: “Ah, Qi Wuhuo, have you returned?”
The young Daoist replied: “Mm. Over the past year, how have things been in the mountains? Has everyone been well?”
The old man stroked his beard with a smile and said: “All is well. In the mountains, whether a year passes or ten, nothing much ever changes. Even that Huangjing herb has finally reached a thousand years of cultivation. It could have transformed into human form by now, but it insisted on waiting for your return, saying it wished to undergo the change only in your presence.”
“That way, he can rightfully ask you for a pastry as a gift.”
The young Daoist chuckled softly.
He stepped forward and walked side by side with Tao Taigong at a leisurely pace.
This dream-forging technique—its essence lies in using my spirit to connect with the spiritual essence of another’s.
As Tao Taigong spoke, the once boundless white expanse suddenly shifted, transforming into the familiar landscapes of Helian Mountain. A spiritual deer leaped nearby, while a monkey, having absorbed the essence of Geng Metal Stone, now wielded the power of Geng Metal in its cultivation.
And there stood the little humanoid form of the Huangjing herb.
Several other Land Deities also emerged, walking alongside the young Daoist. As they journeyed together, they spoke and laughed, recounting the events of the past year in Helian Mountain. The young Daoist walked among them with a faint smile, his dark hair draping loosely over his temples. His hands were lightly clasped behind his back—not with the solemnity of age, but with the carefree ease of youth. His steps carried a lightness, uniquely belonging to the young.
On either side, the once snow-covered landscape sprouted with greenery. Tender buds unfurled, growing into lush, flourishing trees. Flowers bloomed in vibrant fragrance, only to wither away. Leaves turned yellow, covering the mountain in a sea of gold—until, at last, snow fell once more from the heavens, blanketing the land in white.
The changing seasons of Helian Mountain over the past year unfolded within just a few steps.
As they walked, Tao Taigong recounted the happenings of the year.
He spoke of the temple he had been given—how people rarely came to visit, but the mountain’s spirits enjoyed gathering there to take shelter from the rain.
He spoke of his teacher, who had been searching for him, worried he had wandered off and gotten lost.
He mentioned how he had taken the time to meet that scholar, Teacher Su.
He described how the fresh buds of spring carried a light, refreshing fragrance. How the flowers of summer were bright and lovely. How, in autumn, the mountains were painted red, and the ripened fruits brought delight to the little creatures of the forest. And how, in winter, when the snow fell in flurries, even the mountains seemed swollen with cold.
He spoke of how the spirits of the mountain missed him very much.
In the dream, Tao Taigong said: “But now that you’ve returned, everything is well.”
The young Daoist’s steps came to a halt. “I still cannot return just yet,” he said.
The old man stroked his beard and chuckled. “Hmm? What are you saying now?”
“Haven’t you already returned?”
The young Daoist said gently: “Tell everyone that I miss them as well. I’ve also prepared this year’s elixirs.”
The old man asked in confusion: “Are you leaving again?”
The youth thought of that scroll of white paper filled with regrets and murmured: “Where in this world has there ever been no farewells?”
He halted his steps and said:
“Tao Taigong, at sunset tomorrow, set up a ritual altar in the mountain and strike the ritual drum twenty-four times. The invocation is as follows…”
“Wine… wine…”
“I… I’m not drunk, not drunk yet!”
“Huh? The invocation!”
Inside the Land Deity’s cave dwelling, Tao Taigong, who had been muddled in sleep, suddenly jolted awake with a startled cry. The visions from his dream had already begun to blur in his mind, but he still remembered that scroll of invocation. Seizing the moment while it was still fresh, he hurriedly grabbed a brush and paper to transcribe it. Yet when he finished and looked at the recorded invocation, especially that final phrase—[Wuhuo Wondrous Dao True Monarch]—he wasn’t sure if it was the lingering effects of the alcohol, but a sharp pain throbbed in his head.
“Wuhuo’s Precious Invocation…”
Having lived for three hundred years, Tao Taigong knew exactly what this signified.
With a bitter smile, he muttered: “The Taishang Lineage values temperament above all else, followed by comprehension but…”
“This… this is truly…”
“…Not good for the heart.”
He glanced around his surroundings and suddenly felt a deep sense of wistfulness. Clearly, the year before, he had listened to the young Daoist’s teachings on the mysteries of the Daoist Orthodox Tradition and the path of cultivating Innate Primordial Qi. At first, he had been filled with great ambition, but time and again, he was invited by his old friends to wander the mountains and rivers, indulging in wine and merriment. Unknowingly, his cultivation had once again been set aside.
Yet this Precious Invocation was like a thunderclap shaking the heavens.
The old man stared at his own reflection in the mirror, inhaling the lingering scent of wine around him, and sighed deeply. “To think I have fallen into such decline, neglecting my cultivation for so long!”
“Dao Protectors, hear my decree!”
“From this day forth—”
“I shall abstain from wine!”
Qi Wuhuo ended the dream-conveyance, putting away the jade scroll and the Mountain God’s seal. Through this attempt, he had come to understand that many of the incantations in the [Xuantan Original Canon] were designed to create various celestial phenomena. But the young Daoist could not quite grasp why one would expend their spiritual essence and Primordial Soul on such strenuous yet unrewarding displays.
So, quite naturally, he removed them all.
After some thought, he decided to purchase the materials needed for the Xuantan ritual.
Tomorrow, he would first test with Tao Taigong whether it was possible to directly deliver the elixirs.
Unlike a dream-conveyance, a proper Xuantan ritual required more than just the jade scroll and the Mountain God’s seal to set up a makeshift altar. Since tomorrow would be a formal ritual, he had to be more cautious. Qi Wuhuo packed his belongings, took out some money, and jotted down a list of the items he needed before slipping it into his sleeve. Only then did he close the door behind him and, with the afternoon still young, set out toward Zhongzhou Prefecture City.
The Earth Deities’ earth-travel technique, when combined with the [Hunyuan Sword Canon]’s footwork, had become increasingly seamless.
Upon arriving at Zhongzhou Prefecture City—
Chaofeng, with his sharp eyes, was the first to call out:
“Hey! Little Daoist, you’re here!”
“The city’s lively these days!”
Jiaotu chuckled and said: “Many cultivators possess vast spiritual essence, but it’s not pure. Few can actually hear us speak.”
“That’s why he’s been chattering non-stop.”
Chaofeng was instantly furious. “Who’s chattering?! Your mouth is obviously bigger than mine!”
Jiaotu shot back, equally enraged: “You’re the one who starts flapping your lips at the slightest thing you see! And you have the gall to call me out?!”
The two statues, who had been bickering for centuries, immediately resumed their quarrel.
But Chaofeng still managed to remind Qi Wuhuo: “Little Daoist, don’t go westward. A rather strange great monk arrived there today, claiming to have a karmic connection in this place and insisting on finding a disciple. I saw the Buddha’s light shining brilliantly above his head—he might actually be something remarkable. Be careful not to catch his attention!”
“The north is fine to go.”
“The east is a big place, it’s even better!”
Qi Wuhuo thanked him.
Chaofeng waved it off casually. “It’s nothing. Hardly anyone can even hear me speak.”
“Little Daoist, make sure to become a True Person soon!”
The young Daoist smiled and nodded, then performed a concealment technique before stepping into the city. He headed for the marketplace, where an entire street was dedicated to items for Xuantan rituals. After all, aside from Daoists with true cultivation who specialized in ritual practices, even ordinary households would need incense burners and fine incense for their offerings.
As Qi Wuhuo considered the Xuantan ceremony, he recalled that there were designated ritual fruits, dharma drums, incense burners, fine incense, inscribed plaques, and yellow paper.
Since this was directly related to the Xuantan—
Most offerings consisted of [fragrant, pure-tasting fruits].
They were categorized into Five Fruits and Six Vegetarian Offerings.
However, the [Xuantan Original Canon] had already stated that these offerings were meant to help cultivators maintain a clear and tranquil mind—the immortals and deities would not actually consume them.
The young Daoist still remembered the elegant and carefree script at the end of the text, though he had no idea who had written it.
[One who offers with purity, offers without self, without attachment. Though performing the act of offering, they do not cling to the act itself.]
[Even a single cup of clear water suffices.]
[To be attached to offerings while neglecting self-cultivation is not the path of a true practitioner.]
Yet, why was sugarcane among the fruits offered to the Jade Emperor? Did he simply like sweets?
The young Daoist was puzzled. Fortunately, it was winter, so sugarcane was available. If it had been summer, where would one even find it?
In the east market, he bought fruits. In the south market, he gathered vegetarian offerings. Then he headed to the north market in search of an incense burner and a dharma drum. However, he hadn’t expected them to be much more expensive than he had anticipated. Hearing his surprised reaction, the Daoist shopkeeper chuckled and asked: “Young Daoist, where do you cultivate?”
Qi Wuhuo answered with the same response he gave to Yue Ji.
The old Daoist laughed and said: “Ah, so you’re a fellow loose cultivator.”
“Seeing that you have some spiritual power, I’ll take out something good. This stuff of mine is already quite decent, but if we’re talking about the best, it has to be this one.” He lifted his robe, patted the ritual drum at his side, and said smugly:
“This can connect to the spirits above and reach the netherworld below.”
“It’s a top-tier spiritual tool. Even in the hands of a True Person from an established Daoist lineage, it wouldn’t seem lacking. Now, this—this is truly valuable.”
“Even for a hundred taels of gold, I wouldn’t part with it.”
“I’m only showing it to you because we’re fellow cultivators.”
The young Daoist examined the drum and saw that it indeed had traces of spiritual energy flowing through it. He nodded and said: “It’s a fine item.”
The old Daoist was delighted to meet someone who could recognize its value. He grinned and said: “Isn’t it? But this drum can only be exchanged for [Heavenly Emperor Coins]—that’s the only thing I’d trade it for.”
Qi Wuhuo was taken aback. He did have three [Heavenly Emperor Coins] from Tantai Xuan, but he had no idea what they were used for. The old Daoist, who had retired to run this incense shop, chuckled. “It’s normal for a young loose cultivator like you not to know about Heavenly Emperor Coins. This is something truly special. If you ever encounter wandering deities or earth spirits while traveling, they won’t recognize mortal empire currencies, nor do they care for gold.”
“They only recognize [Heavenly Emperor Coins].”
“What is the use of these Heavenly Emperor Coins?”
“Heh, naturally, they’re for trading with immortals and earth spirits. Those are the ancestors and patriarchs of various sects. Even the smallest bit of what slips through their fingers can help us mortals tremendously. As for the weight of these [Heavenly Emperor Coins], hey, Little Daoist, you know that when a person dies, their soul is taken by underworld ghost envoys, right?”
“These ghost envoys roam the world, holding lists of names. They already know who will exhaust their life force that day, so they wait in advance.”
Then the old Daoist smiled and held up a finger, saying:
“One [Heavenly Emperor Coin]. That’s all it takes to make an underworld ghost envoy take your soul last.”
“In other words, it can let your soul remain in your body for half a day longer.”
“That’s what they mean when they say, [Money Can Make Ghosts Grind the Mill].”
“The money—is the [Heavenly Emperor Coin].”
“And the ghost—is the [Soul-reaping Ghost Envoy].”
“This saying literally means that as long as you have enough Heavenly Emperor Coins, you could even make those high and mighty underworld envoys pull a millstone for you like a donkey!”
The old Daoist saw the young Daoist’s look of amazement and felt immensely pleased, as if he were a teacher passing down knowledge. Stroking his beard, he said:
“I’m only telling you this today because you bought something from me.”
“Little Daoist, as a loose cultivator, you must always be learning.”
The young Daoist thanked him, then thought for a moment and asked; “But… what do the immortals and underworld envoys do with Heavenly Emperor Coins?”
The old Daoist’s hand froze mid-stroke.
His thoughts stalled.
Even his beard-stroking came to an abrupt stop.
“Hmm???”
Why would you even think about that?
No, seriously. Other people just think Heavenly Emperor Coins are amazing—why are you questioning why they’re amazing?
The old Daoist coughed and said: “W-well, this… This isn’t something I can tell you.”
“It’s not that this Old Daoist doesn’t know!”
Then, he quickly raised his voice and said: “Ah! No more talking! Little Daoist, which dharma drum are you buying?”
“Come now, business is business!”
The young Daoist had no choice but to pick a dharma drum and then left as the old Daoist wiped his sweat and breathed a sigh of relief.
He should have been heading back, but suddenly, he recalled what Chaofeng had said earlier. His steps paused. After thinking it over, he simply decided to head toward the direction of [the east is absolutely fine to go]. Walking through the streets and the heart of the city, people bustled about. Soon, he saw a grand bridge. From five thousand three hundred steps before the city tower all the way to the bridge, street stalls were permitted in this area of the marketplace.
Standing on the bridge, he watched the endless stream of people coming and going. Beneath it, the river ran through this grand city of Zhongzhou, splitting into nine separate waterways under the bridge.
From afar, the young Daoist saw a massive tree—one he had noticed before.
Beneath the tree, an elderly man was playing chess.
It was the same old man he had seen before, the one with the damp, water-laden aura—the very one who had summoned rain during the Jinzhou disaster.
The old man seemed to have set up a small stall. Next to him, a white paper sign read: [Sitting east and facing west, inviting challengers to a match]
[Casual games, three large coins per round]
[Winner earns a string of coins]
It was a simple chess stall.
However, at this moment, the one playing against the old man was just a mischievous ten-year-old child.
The old man placed his piece down with great satisfaction and said with a chuckle:
“Ha, I win!”
The child threw his chess piece down in frustration and huffed: “I don’t wanna play anymore!”
He got up to leave, but the old man quickly reached out and grabbed his hand, extending a single finger as he said: “One more round! Just one more round! No one’s played with this old man lately—it’s far too boring!”
“One game!”
“Just one game of chess!”
“I won’t take any of your money.”
“After we finish, I’ll buy you some candied haws, alright?”
The old man coaxed the child, but suddenly, he seemed to notice something.
He lifted his head and saw the young Daoist standing over there.
