Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

When she looked ahead with her naked eyes, the world appeared simple and serene, as if several Masters were merely sitting in the center of the herb-drying courtyard, surrounded by offerings of pigs and sheep arranged like stars.

But once she applied her Spiritual Awareness, the formation became starkly visible, exuding a powerful aura.

Previously, Gong Wu had been puzzled by the slight unease she felt whenever she visited the herb-drying courtyard.

Now, with her senses awakened, she could suddenly see the vibrant currents of spiritual energy flowing through the formation.

Six Masters sat in pairs, three on each side, while the Master Ancestor sat at the northern center, all seven deep in meditation.

The higher-ranking disciples of each palace managed the situation with calm efficiency, directing unrelated personnel to withdraw and attend to the patients, verifying the quantities of the offerings, and checking the connection status of the blood troughs.

The Master Ancestor gripped her bloodshed vine staff firmly, her deep brown spiritual energy swirling up like a whirlwind as her brow furrowed.

In the next moment, the distinct spiritual energies of the seven Masters interconnected, forming a net that ultimately converged upon the Master Ancestor.

Before the lower-ranking disciples could be dispersed, the old man bellowed.

"The altar opens!"

In an instant, the ground trembled, causing everyone to stagger.

Ji Yang instinctively tightened his grip on Gong Wu’s wrist as they stood high up on the arched bridge, commanding a clear view of the scene below.

The higher-ranking disciples were busy clearing out unrelated individuals from their respective palaces. When they caught sight of the Tianhua Palace tokens on the two, they hesitated, knowing only three apprentices were accepted in that palace. After a brief pause, they chose to ignore them and moved on.

Ji Yang murmured a soft thank you.

This spectacle was a once-in-a-century event and one of Moonfire Valley’s most closely guarded secrets.

At the Master Ancestor’s thunderous command, the altar, anchored by the four pillars of metal, wood, water, and fire, began to rotate in the pattern of the Eight Trigrams, unveiling a peculiar cauldron buried deep beneath the earth!

For Gong Wu, this was the first revelation that such a spiritual treasure lay hidden beneath the herb-drying courtyard. The day’s astonishing sights seemed almost beyond belief.

"Senior brother, do you recognize that cauldron?"

Ji Yang shook his head quickly, also standing on tiptoe to scan the crowd for familiar faces. He raised his voice, "Found him! Let’s go ask Uncle Ji Ning."

He led her swiftly down the arched bridge, weaving through the chaos towards the onlookers at the edge of the spiritual formation, and soon spotted his master’s junior brother, calling out softly.

Uncle Ji Ning, aware of their approach, kept his eyes fixed on the massive cauldron being gently lifted by a surge of spiritual energy from the deep altar.

"There’s nothing to hide," the uncle said. "What do you see on that cauldron?"

The cauldrons typically used in the medicinal valley were mostly square, symbolizing balance and integrity.

But the colossal cauldron emerging from the pit was as wide as six men could embrace and nearly eight feet tall. Its form was adorned with cow-horn-like ears, and each of its five sides bore the fierce visages of tiger-headed, dragon-bearded beasts, glaring in all directions.

Gong Wu, well-read in various lore, recognized it immediately.

"That’s a Bianhan."

From the legend of the Dragon’s Nine Sons, the seventh son, Bianhan, was known for his sense of justice and was often depicted in places like prisons and courtrooms.

"Correct," Uncle Ji Ning glanced at Gong Wu appreciatively and added, "This cauldron is known as the Six-Legged Bianhan Dangan Cauldron."

"The Master Ancestor’s profound cultivation in his early years was stalled by inner demons, fixated on killing a man."

Gong Wu was taken aback by such a heavy secret. She glanced around at the high-ranking individuals, who remained impassive, likely already familiar with this tale.

"When he ascended the mountain to cultivate, his father was tragically killed at home, and his body lay unclaimed for years. By the time he returned, only bones remained."

"But the identity of the murderer and the place of vengeance remained a mystery, as neighbors avoided the topic and shunned him."

Ji Yang had heard snippets of this story before. He gazed at the giant cauldron, now level with the ground, and queried, "Could it be that this cauldron isn’t used for alchemy?"

Uncle Ji Ning nodded, "It does not melt elixirs but discerns right from wrong."

"In those days, the Master Ancestor sought out a powerful one to forge this cauldron. It was through its guidance that he avenged his father’s murderer."

"Dangan was a loyal minister of the old dynasty, and it’s said he later ascended to immortality, tasked with adjudicating human injustices." As Uncle Ji Ning spoke, his expression was one of reverence and awe. "It’s hard to believe… that I could witness its true form."

Gong Wu looked up at the towering eight-foot cauldron, locking eyes with the Bianhan depicted on its surface.

She pondered deeply and murmured, "How can a cauldron judge a case?"

After all, a pot cannot speak.

"I don’t know," the uncle replied, his hands tucked into his sleeves as he turned to leave. "I’m off to lecture. Do you two wish to join?"

"Uncle, aren’t you going to wait to see the outcome of the cauldron?"

"Wait?" Uncle Ji Ning said with a knowing smile, "Waking the cauldron takes three days. So just wait."

As expected.

Even a casual ritual in the community could last up to twelve hours, and this giant cauldron required thirty-six hours of relentless effort from those in the formations to awaken and function.

During this time, they would neither eat nor drink, nor sleep or rest. Most people could not endure such exhaustion.

In the first two hours, nearly a hundred people surrounded the outer circle of the formations, reluctant to leave despite several attempts to drive them away.

By evening, the crowd finally seemed to awaken from a dream, heading off to eat, sleep, or catch up on their studies, occasionally returning to check on their Master in the formations.

Gong Wu didn’t need to guess that when Master Ji Qing finished his three days, he would certainly emerge starving and ready to devour three bowls of pig’s feet.

…After all, each time he emerged from closed-door training, he was too hungry to walk properly.

On the first day, she could still find a moment to help, but many patients arrived from outside the valley this year, and the children just admitted to the valley were busy stirring medicine and unloading the dregs.

Now and then, someone expressed concern about the poisonous salamander in Wan Shi Pool.

"Can that thing still eat trash?"

"It’s hard to tell. Today, it looked like it was rolling its eyes; it didn’t even blow a bubble when it saw me."

"Oh no, if it rolls over and dies, what will we do with all the trash in the valley…?”

Gong Wu did not understand pharmacology but would sweep around after mopping up the medicine dregs. Every evening, she went to Zhenling Palace to help cook for the children.

The sixteen-year-old girl, along with a group of ten and twelve-year-olds, steamed grass cakes and cooked thin porridge, managing quite well.

Before she could fill her own belly, another senior brother from a different palace peeked in through the curtain.

"You all go send off the monk begging at the valley entrance!"

The children, clinging to bowls of porridge and grabbing pickles, wailed in response.

"Where did that monk come from?!"

"I haven’t eaten all day!"

"The valley entrance is so far, I don’t want to go…"

Worried that the new children wouldn’t know the way, Gong Wu took off her apron and stood up, saying, "I’ll go. How many of you?"

"Just one. You don’t need to bring him pickles; a couple of cakes will do." As that senior brother lifted the curtain to leave, he popped his head back in to say, "When you’re done, come to Miande Palace to help feed the sick. Please, I haven’t washed in eight days, and I smell!"

"Okay, I’ll be right there."

Walking from Zhenling Palace to the valley entrance would take about half an hour.

Gong Wu missed the convenience of riding the broomstick, but recalling her Master’s teachings, she walked the whole way on foot.

When she reached the monk sitting quietly, her basket of cakes had already grown cold.

From a distance, she saw that the monk appeared to be in his forties, with a robust build and a dusty robe.

The dim light of the two lanterns at the valley gate cast shadows, revealing the nine scar marks on his head, dark blue in color.

Gong Wu pondered for a moment, unsure whether to call him “uncle” or to address him as "Master."

Instead, it was the monk who, hearing her footsteps, finished reciting the last few lines of the sutra, stood up, and looked at her.

"Thank you for your hard work, benefactor."

Gong Wu, not accustomed to dealing with older men, nodded shyly and handed him the bowl of thin porridge and grass cake from her bamboo basket.

The monk thanked her again and sat down on the steps beside her, eating steadily and quickly.

It seemed he hardly needed to chew; he could finish a cake in just a few bites.

Gong Wu waited to collect the empty bowl and greeted a villager who approached with a chicken, seeking medicine.

She casually asked, "Where are you from?"

"Great Wuxiang Temple."

"Really? That’s quite far to the northwest," Gong Wu replied, smiling, "If you walked all the way from there, it would probably take you half a year."

She thought he might be a monk traveling from a nearby county, and if he came from Qinzhou, he must have faced quite a few hardships.

"Seven months and ten days," the monk said. After finishing the porridge, he carefully wiped the bowl and dishes with his sleeve and stood up to thank her again. "Thank you for your kindness, benefactor."

She intended to take the items and leave but hesitated for a moment when she took the empty bowl. She asked, "Are you full?"

The monk paused, looking awkward, "It’s not good to lie."

That meant he hadn’t eaten enough.

Gong Wu asked again, "Can you eat meat?"

"I can eat anything."

Feeling hungry herself, Gong Wu signaled for him to gather some dry grass. She went into the nearby forest and quickly caught a rabbit.

Before, she would have needed nets or other tools, but her skills had greatly improved; with a simple tug of the vines, she could easily catch one.

Before long, she had deftly skinned and gutted the rabbit, roasting it over a fire until it smelled delicious.

The monk even pulled out a piece of coarse salt and sprinkled some on top.

Gong Wu couldn’t help but laugh, "I was just wishing I had some to bring!"

The monk laughed along, "Not eating salt for too long can make one dizzy. I came prepared."

As they enjoyed the rabbit, the two gradually became friends.

The monk, named Qing Zhen, explained that according to their custom, every twenty years, they must descend the mountain to gain experience in the world, a tradition well-known among the locals. Some even greeted the monks on the streets, offering rice and porridge.

Throughout the vast lands north and south of the river, many small temples claimed to be extensions of Great Wuxiang Temple, and they supported each other as part of a network.

Once they finished the warm roasted rabbit, both felt warm all over.

"We may see each other again," Qing Zhen said with a bow, "You are welcome to visit Qinzhou and try our fragrant leaf tea. It tastes great."

"But be careful if you go further south to Night Poison Mountain," Gong Wu warned, "If you are a warrior monk, you still need to be cautious… bring a blade."

"Okay, thank you."

The two parted ways, and Gong Wu carefully wiped the corners of her mouth before walking back slowly under the starry night.

Though she could have rested, she remembered the promise made with that unnamed senior brother and changed course toward Miande Palace.

The brothers and sisters there mostly recognized her; upon seeing she had come to help, they quickly offered her a basin of hot water and a handkerchief, asking her to assist with washing the patients.

Everyone busied themselves while chatting and catching up.

Curious about how their masters managed their needs over the past three days, the disciples also gossiped about the age of the beautiful senior sister from Liu Jia Palace.

As they chatted, a senior brother returned from his bath, smelling fresh and looking quite pleased with himself.

"Thank you for your hard work, Gong Wu! I’ll treat you to some candied fruit later!"

"By the way, what about that monk at the valley entrance? What’s his background?"

Gong Wu shared what she knew, and everyone laughed, shaking their heads in disbelief.

"How could that be? We live in such a remote place; why would he come here?"

"Great Wuxiang Temple? Ha! Out of ten monks I’ve met, five claim to come from there!"

Another senior sister chimed in, asking if she knew the monk’s name.

"I’ve actually heard the Master talk about the monks from Great Wuxiang Temple; they have a generational order—let me see… it’s something like, ‘Wang Fan, Shan Xiu, Qing Kong, Jue Zhi, Wen He, Wu Chan, Jing Kong, Fang Cun.’"

"Gong Wu, the monk you encountered—was he in his twenties or thirties, belonging to the ‘Wu’ generation, or was he in his forties or fifties, belonging to the ‘He’ generation?"

Gong Wu was wiping the sweat from an old lady’s forehead, and she paused for a moment.

"Ah, I totally forgot."