Chapter 96
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It was nightfall. Qi Wuhuo casually found a place to shelter from the wind and rain—a simple thatched hut by the roadside in the mountains. It was likely built by the nearby villagers, used for storing firewood and dried grass when there was too much to carry down the mountain in one trip or when their courtyards below were already full. A simple roof covered the hut, offering some protection from the elements, and inside lay dry, soft straw.
The young Daoist untied the sword case from his back, then leaped backward.
With a muffled thud, he sprawled out on the straw in the shape of a great character (大), closing his eyes in comfort.
The moonlight was clear, the mountains tranquil—he truly enjoyed this kind of feeling.
Letting out a breath, he cradled the bird egg in his arms and gazed at the moonlit sky, thinking of nothing, simply relishing the silence. The stars stretched endlessly across the heavens. Suddenly, he smiled and murmured: “The Cowherd Star is over there.”
“The moon is getting rounder and rounder…”
He looked at the moonlight.
When the night of the full moon arrived, it would be time to seek out the Mingzhen Dao Alliance.
Lying on the soft straw, he didn’t know what thoughts lingered in his mind. Before long, he drifted into sleep, hazy and dreamlike.
Just the mountain, the moonlight, the flowing wind—and a lone youth, a Daoist, a cultivator.
The next morning, Qi Wuhuo was awakened by birdsong.
A sparrow had landed on his shoulder, gently pecking at his cheek. It didn’t hurt, or rather, the slight sting was more of a ticklish, numbing sensation. The young Daoist opened his eyes and stared blankly at the sky for a while before stretching lazily. Startled, the sparrow fluttered away, landing on a tree branch where it began to ‘scold’ him incessantly.
Qi Wuhuo got up, washed with the mountain spring water, and ate some pine nuts to fill his stomach.
Since he still had to visit the Mingzhen Dao Alliance, he needed to stay near Zhongzhou City. With that in mind, he rose, dusted off his robes—though no dust clung to them—and set off toward the city, greeting Chaofeng and Jiaotu along the way.
Chaofeng said: “Ah, little Daoist, you haven’t shown up in so long! I was starting to think you’d caught some laziness ailment and couldn’t get out of bed!”
Jiaotu scoffed: “Ignore him. He has a foul mouth.”
“He’s just upset because you’ve been gone so long. He kept muttering, ‘Little Daoist, Little Daoist, why hasn’t he come yet?’ every single day! It was driving me mad.”
Chaofeng flew into a rage. “Nonsense! You were the one who said it more!”
Jiaotu fumed. “You’re the one talking nonsense! You said it at least 800 times!”
“Well, you said it 1,800 times!”
“Then you said it 2,800 times!”
“Then you said it 3,800 times!”
The two spiritual beings in the stone carvings started quarreling again. In broad daylight, their bickering was more entertaining than the mundane bustle of the mortal world. Even as they argued, they made time to chat with the young Daoist. When they learned he was only passing through for a short stay, Chaofeng said: “Then you should head northwest. There’s a Daoist temple there, with only an old Daoist and a young one.”
“Though the city has a few other temples and monasteries, the people inside have clouded eyes and muddled spirits.”
“They can’t see us, and naturally, they won’t recognize you either.”
The young Daoist thanked them and took his leave.
Chaofeng called out loudly: “Little Daoist, Little Daoist!”
“You look more like a True Person than you did a few days ago!”
“Make sure to keep working hard!”
The young Daoist chuckled, thought for a moment, then raised a fist and gave it a small shake in acknowledgment.
After that, he formed a hand seal, blending into the crowd as he entered the city. The sights before him were dazzling—especially around the [Nine-Eyed Bridge], where the streets bustled with passersby and steaming food stalls selling snacks and delicacies. It was a different world from the mountains. Unable to resist, he pulled out a copper coin, buying a crispy fried flatbread and a bowl of thin porridge.
Another dish—finely sliced water tubers, tossed with bright red chili oil—was served over rice, a steaming, hearty meal.
As he ate, he watched the endless stream of people before slowly making his way to the city’s northwest. There, beneath an ancient tree, he found the Daoist temple. The plaque bore three bold characters: [Lianyang Temple]—though it was weathered by time, its once-sharp strokes now mottled and worn. Qi Wuhuo knocked on the temple gate and a delicate-looking little Daoist answered.
After learning his purpose, invited him inside
Normally, even when seeking temporary lodging in a Daoist temple, one’s travel documents would need to be examined. But the old Daoist inside took just one glance at the young visitor before exclaiming in admiration:
“The Three Talents are complete—such a rare and true heir of the Daoist Lineage…”
“Strange, you clearly haven’t cultivated Innate Qi, yet your Primordial Spirit and Primordial Qi surpass even my own.”
“You are a fellow Daoist—please, come in.”
Thus, Qi Wuhuo took temporary residence in the Daoist temple.
The temple housed only an old Daoist and a young disciple. Aside from the Sanqing Hall, there were Heavenly King Halls on either side and a lone two-story tower.
A plaque hung above the tower’s entrance, with a sword mounted beneath it.
Each day, the young Daoist assisted with sweeping and cleaning, yet he never ascended the tower, for it was always locked. The old Daoist once chuckled and explained: “This tower is called [Lu Ancestor(Luzu) Tower]. Our sect’s founder once received the guidance of an immortal with the surname Lu, and so this pavilion was built in his honor. Unless Ancestor Lu himself returns, the tower will remain sealed.”
When the young Daoist inquired about this immortal named Lu, the old Daoist only shook his head and said:
“It was far too long ago. Even I do not remember.”
“Or rather, I was not even born yet at that time. Even my grandmaster’s grandmaster was but a young disciple then.”
“How could I possibly know?”
Thus, Qi Wuhuo set aside his curiosity and let go of his faint speculations.
After stealing the Mingzhen Dao Alliance’s waist token, Tantai Xuan fled to Zhongzhou and committed numerous offenses in the region surrounding the capital. During these days, the young Daoist spent his time searching for the families of those who had perished with unresolved wishes, fulfilling their final regrets and delivering their last words. When the journey was far, he often had to travel using the Earth Escape Technique.
He departed at sunrise and only returned at dusk.
The young disciple of Lianyang Temple grew curious.
The old Daoist was not.
Yet, he still told the young disciple not to ask too many questions.
One evening, Qi Wuhuo returned at dusk, his stomach empty. But by then, the street vendors had already packed up. When he inquired, an old man pushing a small cart of trinkets replied: “Him? Not sure why, maybe he caught a cold. He’s been coughing terribly. Didn’t want to pass it to others, so he’s resting at home.”
“Hey, little Daoist, you should take care as well.”
“Lately, I don’t know what’s going on.”
“More and more people are falling ill.”
The old man coughed a few times, then picked up a multicolored silk thread and said: “This is for warding off evil spirits. Little Daoist, would you like one?”
Qi Wuhuo politely declined.
Indeed, over the past days, the number of people falling ill had noticeably increased.
The young Daoist could only endure his hunger and head back. However, as he turned a corner at the street’s end, he spotted the young disciple from Lianyang Temple. The latter also noticed him and waved enthusiastically, calling out: “Uncle Master Qi! Uncle Master Qi, over here!”
All who walk the Dao beneath Heaven are disciples of the Dao Ancestor. When crossing paths, they would usually just exchange a respectful “Fellow Daoist” as a greeting.
The old Daoist, considering himself to be on equal terms with Qi Wuhuo, left the young Daoist with no choice but to call him ‘Uncle Master Qi’. However, feeling that the young Daoist was only a few years older and that he had been lowered in seniority for no reason, he was somewhat displeased. The old Daoist bought him a candied haw and coaxed him for half the afternoon before he finally gave in, obediently calling the young Daoist ‘Uncle Master.’ Over time, he gradually got used to it.
Passersby glanced curiously at their interaction.
Qi Wuhuo walked over and saw that it was a congee distribution stall.
Rather than thin gruel, the congee here was thick and rich. Even just from the scent, the young Daoist could recognize a variety of medicinal herbs—meant to fortify the body and dispel evil influences.
A well-dressed young noble was overseeing the distribution, radiating warmth and enthusiasm.
The young Daoist Mingxin had already been waiting in line for a long while. Seeing Qi Wuhuo arrive, he cheerfully stepped out to stand with him at the back of the line.
“Ah, Master Daoist! It’s you!”
A familiar voice rang out.
Qi Wuhuo turned around and saw a few sturdy men—formerly beggars he had met when he first arrived at Zhongzhou Prefecture, seeking shelter in the Land God Temple. Now, they were dressed in clean clothes, clearly having found work. Even so, they had come here for a warm meal. They greeted Qi Wuhuo with thanks and then laughed: “Luckily, the rains weren’t too heavy this year. We didn’t have to endure as many cold nights and could start working earlier.”
“But we haven’t received our wages yet, so this bowl of congee is truly a blessing.”
“This medicinal congee warms the body—feels great.”
“Drives away the cold, too.”
As they chatted and moved forward, the young noble in embroidered robes handed a bowl of congee to Qi Wuhuo. The young Daoist was slightly surprised but he recognized the young man. After offering his thanks, he stepped aside and left with Mingxin, who was happily holding his own bowl. The young Daoist Mingxin swayed side to side as he walked, clearly delighted by the meat congee.
Because it meant he wouldn’t have to wash rice himself!
Now, he could spend more time daydreaming under the pine tree and watching ants.
The young Daoist chuckled and asked: “Does it taste good?”
“Mm!”
“A cultivator must not be ignorant of medicine. Without knowledge of medicine, one cannot truly cultivate. Now then, let me test you—how many medicinal ingredients are in this?”
The young Daoist Mingxin looked completely bewildered.
“What use do these medicinal ingredients have?”
Mingxin looked as if he was about to cry. “Can you really recognize them just by taking a sip of porridge?”
The young Daoist smiled faintly, handed him a piece of candy, and stuffed it in Mingxin’s mouth, stopping his tears. Only then did he slowly explain the contents of the medicinal porridge. “It’s because I know this prescription. To be honest, I thought I was the only one in the world who knew about it. But then again, I underestimated others. Since my teacher was able to create it, naturally, others could have as well.”
“Is this prescription very powerful?”
“Very powerful. My teacher called it [Screen Wind Powder]. I don’t know what name the physician who turned it into meat porridge gave it.”
“Probably not as interesting as that.”
“Even if it’s the same thing, different people give it different names.”
Mingxin asked curiously: “Why is it called Screen Wind Powder?”
Qi Wuhuo replied: “[Screen Wind Powder] means that its medicinal power forms an invisible jade screen before a person, warding off evil and sickness. It supports the righteous qi without being too extreme, allowing even those with weaker constitutions to absorb its benefits. The words ‘balanced and impartial’ sound simple, but whether in medicine or in life, achieving them is extremely difficult.”
Mingxin nodded and said: “That doesn’t sound like something someone your age would say, Uncle Master.”
The young Daoist gently patted his head and replied warmly: “That’s what the one who taught me medicine told me.”
Mingxin asked curiously: “By the way, Uncle Master Qi, do you know that person from earlier?”
“You seem to have been thinking about him.”
Qi Wuhuo said: “Yes, I know him.”
—In a dream.
Five years ago, when the current emperor ascended the throne, he had defeated his own elder brother, seizing the position of heir despite being younger. That young man from earlier was the son of the one who had failed in the struggle for the throne. Qi Wuhuo vaguely remembered that within that household, the young man was second in rank among his siblings. He had an elder sister, two younger brothers, and a younger sister. After his father’s failure, he was granted the title of Junwang(Commandery Prince), but he soon fell into decline and passed away not long after.
The title of Junwang was then inherited by that boy.
Very soon, that young Commandery Prince’s younger brother met with an accident first—his galloping horse plunged into a lake, and he perished.
Then came the tragedy of his elder sister, who had been recorded in history as [intelligent and composed, possessing keen judgment and political acumen; whenever she conversed with her father, he would sigh in regret that she was not born a man].
It seemed that she had been poisoned.
The affairs of the imperial family were always steeped in filth. But what puzzled Qi Wuhuo was—had this young noble ever been to Zhongzhou before?
In Qi Wuhuo’s memory of his fleeting Yellow Millet Dream, this person, who was later titled Commandery Prince, initially seemed to make some moves, stirring up lingering waves. However, after his elder sister was poisoned to death in the capital, he was trapped in the Central Plains. Though he appeared to have great aspirations, he was powerless. Every month or so, he would perform a drama of filial piety with the current emperor, in an attempt to win the hearts of scholars and the people.
So why was he here now?
Qi Wuhuo suppressed his curiosity and returned to the Daoist temple with the young Daoist Mingxin. They swept and tidied up before resting in the scripture pavilion. That night, as he was meditating, he suddenly sensed a fluctuation of Primordial Qi. The bronze mirror, which had remained dormant for so long, finally lit up again. Through it, Qi Wuhuo once more saw that young girl. Today, however, she was dressed in white robes with a green skirt.
Her long black hair was tied with a light lotus-pink ribbon, flowing gracefully, as free and elegant as a green lotus blooming in a tranquil pond. Yet her expression was somewhat anxious as she spoke hurriedly:
“Wuhuo, Uncle Niu ‘went out’ some time ago. Now he’s back.”
“But something, something is a little off…”
“Daddy isn’t home.”
“Both the Battle Division and the Thunder Mansion have issued an edict. Father has gone to the Battle Division’s command platform, and I’m the only one at home. No one else knows what to do…”
Yun Qin murmured softly, and soon, Qi Wuhuo understood exactly what she meant by something is off. The young girl reached out and pulled something from the side—the Old Yellow Ox. The Old Yellow Ox transformed into a human form and drifted over leisurely, sitting upon a lotus platform. His hands were forming the Three Realms Fearless Seal, his face full of serene detachment, looking no different from a Buddha statue in a temple.
Behind his head, a great golden halo radiated brilliantly.
It was very eye-catching.
Yun Qin reached out and poked it with her finger—her hand passed right through.
“What do we do now? Uncle Niu’s turned into this…”
The young girl wore a miserable expression.
Yet even as she looked distressed, she kept poking.
Poke, poke, poke.
The old ox remained seated upon the lotus platform. His eyes had become long and gentle, just like the statues of Buddhas in temples, his brow adorned with a single red light at the center. He spoke:
“Amitabha. Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Why must you cling so tightly to illusion?”
The young Daoist tried various methods, spoke many words, but the old ox remained motionless upon his lotus seat, his halo shining like that of a Bodhisattva.
His face was benevolent, compassionate—just like a sacred statue enshrined within a temple.
Someone had even given him a grand title: The Great Strength Ox King Bodhisattva.
Finally, the young Daoist fell into deep thought. Then he raised a single finger and said:
“Uncle Niu.”
“I’ve written the second part of the [Seven Apertures Formula].”
At that moment, the kind-hearted expression of the Great Strength Ox King Bodhisattva suddenly stiffened.
PS:
Jade Screen Powder (Yù Píngfēng Sǎn) was formulated by Wei Yilin, a physician of the Yuan Dynasty.
BGDGr81
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