Chapter 151 – Awakening

After Lord Lingmiao had spoken, he looked toward the youth. The boy’s expression shifted ever so slightly in that fleeting instant. Though the change was subtle, the surging tempest within his heart did not escape the elder’s perception. Even with a lifetime of experience, Lord Lingmiao could not help but sigh inwardly, murmuring silently to himself: “A tribulation.”

He then lifted a teapot of antique brass, its wire-threaded design reminiscent of mortal fashion from a thousand years past. Pouring a cup of tea for Qi Wuhuo, he spoke in a calm, gentle voice:

“Be neither hasty, nor burdened by hardship.”

“Do you, young one, know how you ought to act?”

Qi Wuhuo responded in a quiet voice:

“A grace that preserves life—if I were but a common man, then for kindness shown, I would repay with kindness. For hatred borne, I would answer with vengeance.”

“I do not fear the world’s slander.”

Lord Lingmiao asked mildly: “And how, then, should a Daoist act?”

Qi Wuhuo replied: “Draw the sword for the sake of all living things.”

“The demonic miasma spreads, grievances and wrath remain unresolved. First came the plague, sweeping across the Central Plains and tormenting its people. Now, demonic afflictions stir monsters into wreaking havoc throughout the land.”

“The plague must be quelled. The fiends must be slain. The true evil must be executed.”

Lord Lingmiao sighed. The ancient Mountain Deity, in that moment, was like an elder questioning his junior. His gaze was gentle, tinged with compassion. Seated where once a master might have sat, he asked the youth before him, as though speaking to the self he had been a thousand years ago:

“And how should the Judge act?”

The young Daoist remained silent for a long time before answering: “Follow the law. Revere what is right.”

“He must be executed.”

Lord Lingmiao said nothing more. Only when the tea before them had long grown cold did he give a soft chuckle and say quietly: “I have seen many young men like you—righteous, unyielding. But in the end, mere cultivation is not enough.”

“You must understand—in all things, when one is first faced with choice, it is never truly difficult. Be it reason or sentiment, something within always tells you what ought to be done.”

“It will tell you what is right.”

“You yourself know what must be done.”

“But knowing is one thing. When the moment comes—when the blade must fall—”

“Can you truly bring yourself to strike?”

“This… is the second tribulation.”

“Thus, the reason why [Upholding Righteousness Even at the Cost of Kin] is called [righteousness] is because it is so hard to carry out.”

“In the laws of the mortal realm, there exists the principle of [mutual concealment]. A father concealing his son’s crimes would not be seized and thrown into prison because—even though the law is harsh—it still takes human sentiment into account.”

“Moreover, no matter whether you choose to act or refrain, the repercussions of this matter will cling to you like a shadow. When the midnight dreams come, and you awaken in the still of night, you will recall the choice you made in this very moment. And you will ask yourself—did I betray the world to repay a benefactor, or did I remain righteous in the eyes of all, yet repay grace with cruelty?”

“In the brightness of day, you may not hesitate—but each time the night grows still, these thoughts will resurface.”

“You will question whether you were heartless. Whether you erred. Once. Twice. Thrice. One incident. Two. Three. These matters will surge up from within and bind themselves to your Dao-heart. Only then will it be worthy of being called a Daoist [Tribulation]. Some cultivators speak of love between man and woman as a calamity. How shallow that is.”

“Does the Daoist understand? The calamity of emotion is the strife between all beings and the self.”

“It is the collision between the great love for the myriad living beings, and the personal debt owed to a single one.”

“Only when it cuts so deep into the bone that you toss and turn in sleepless nights, unable to let go, with no perfect resolution—only then does it earn the sigh of the Daoists, the closed eyes of the Buddhas. That is what is meant by the [Five Tribulations and Eight Hardships].”

Lord Lingmiao continued: “You need not bear this burden alone.”

“If this matter truly involves the principal instigator of the disaster, then in the end, it may require someone of far greater authority from the Northern Pole Exorcism Court to intervene. It is not something that can be saved by you alone, nor ended by you alone.”

“However, you are now the emissary of the Five Thunders Judge. You reside in the Central Plains. Naturally, you must submit an official decree and judgment, declaring your ruling.”

“And when the time comes for the sword to fall, it is most likely that you will be the one to strike.”

When the young Daoist set down the teacup, he realized only then that though his Dao-heart remained steady as always, his body had tensed unconsciously. As the cup touched the table, it made a rather loud sound. He gave a slight bow and said: 

“I have received your instruction.”

“Where is Elder Ao Liu?”

Lord Lingmiao hesitated for a moment before replying: “Him? He went to escort a niece of his to the Demon Realm.”

“The Dragon Clan has three branches, and one of its major lineages moves within the demon world. That niece of his is setting out to journey among the demon tribes.”

“The old fellow went to see her off.”

The young Daoist finished the last of his tea, then picked up the little peacock who was still eating one of those delicate pastries the ancient Mountain Deity still enjoyed, the kind of thing even among immortals only the truly older generation had a taste for. 

Having taken his leave, he departed with sword in hand. As he lifted it, the blade let out a resonant cry from within its sheath. Yet the young Daoist’s expression remained calm and composed.

But Lord Lingmiao could still see it—in the depths of this disciple’s eyes, there was a shadow like clouds veiling the heavens. His Dao-heart, in the end, had been stirred.

If it does not shake one’s Dao Heart—

Then it cannot be called a tribulation.

That which is easily overcome, is not worthy of being called a calamity.

When Qi Wuhuo departed, one of the mountain gods to the side—having pondered long and hard—finally could not help but step forward. With hands clasped in salute, he asked: “Lord Lingmiao, is it right to kill, or right to save? Which is truly correct, and which is truly wrong? I understand the greater good, yes—but a grace that spares one’s life, is it not something that must be repaid?”

The old mountain god replied: “Right? Wrong?”

“What kind of nonsense are you speaking?”

Lord Lingmiao gave a long sigh and said: “Beneath the Great Dao, there is no right or wrong. There are only choices.”

“Making a single choice does not mean all will be settled.”

“After one choice comes another. The Great Dao flows like water, while all beings are like rocks cast into the current—tossed and struck by unseen eddies, some are changed, some gain, some follow the current downward, while others are shattered to dust. But no matter the result, one cannot say this is wrong, and that is right.”

“It is merely a matter of choice.”

“Yet—after a choice is made, its consequences must be borne.”

“To choose a path is to accept its fruit. To go forth with sword in hand, while one’s heart remains unmoved—this is the True Dao.”

Lord Lingmiao rose amidst gathering clouds and sighed: “Was it not through all the choices—intentional or not—that you and I came to this place? And shall we not continue to walk forward still? At such a point, can we truly turn back and say what was right, what was wrong?”

The mountain god remained silent for a long while, then asked again: “Then… that Daoist just now severed the mixed incense power of that local Earth Deity.”

“Why did you not bring that matter up and ask him to sever it further with another strike?”

Lord Lingmiao shook his head and said: “He just arrived, and already he has asked you and me, spirits of the land, to watch the evil aura. If we were to make another request now, it would carry the air of coercion, and that is unseemly. Moreover, it was that Earth Deity’s own reckless absorption of incense power that caused his lifespan to crumble in the first place. To have three more months of life—that is already a great boon.”

“Even if this Judge Qi is unwilling to help further, it is only natural.”

“There can be no resentment.”

The mountain god murmured assent for a long time before withdrawing, though his heart was still filled with curiosity.

—If that were the case, then why had Lord Lingmiao sought out that young Daoist so earnestly before?

Could it be there was another reason?

When all had departed, the dwelling of Lord Lingmiao had become utterly empty. The mountain god rose, donned armor, and lifted a war-blade. Only then did he ask: “You must have heard everything just now, Ao Liu. What do you think of it?”

What sort of person was Lord Lingmiao? The moment he sensed the presence of demonic qi, pestilent qi, and all manner of miasmas, he had already deduced that there was trouble with the rainfall brought by the Dragon King of the Jing River. And even as he went to fetch the tea set after inviting Qi Wuhuo, he had already sent word to Ao Liu, summoning him here. Ao Liu—ruler of a thousand li of waters, master of a Water Mansion, and one of great power—had come without a sound.

Lord Lingmiao now saw the Old Dragon King standing silently in place.

His expression was calm, his bearing majestic.

Those eyes—dark gold—now gleamed like honed blades.

A scar still marked his cheek—left behind from backlash years ago during the rains over Jinzhou—lending his visage an added savagery.

Lord Lingmiao and Ao Liu had known one another for a thousand years. They understood each other’s methods well. The war-blade in the old mountain god’s hand let out a soft, high-pitched hum. In a low voice, he said: “Ao Liu…”

“When did you first realize your son’s rainfall was the source of the problem?”

The old Dragon King replied:  “Half a month ago. That rain scattered pestilent qi.”

Lord Lingmiao gave a look of sudden realization:  “So that’s why it has rained often these past days—you’ve been thoroughly dispelling the lingering traces of the pestilence…”

The two stood in silence for a long while. In the end, Lord Lingmiao could not hold back and said: “Though the title of Dragon King of the Jing River rests on your shoulders, in truth, it has been your son who has been guiding the clouds and summoning the rains these past few years. All these matters can be verified. Once reported to the Penglai Department, they need only investigate briefly to know the truth. You will be punished—of that there is no doubt—but the crime will merely be [dereliction of oversight].”

“A heavy penalty, yes, but at the very least, your life may be spared.”

The old Dragon King looked at him, then gave a faint smile and asked: “And would you have a father watch his own son be put to death?”

Lord Lingmiao’s voice caught.

This matter would claim a life. That was certain.

The sword might fall upon Ao Liu—condemned for failing in oversight, for indulging his son, and failing to discern calamity in time.

Thus, the grand formation of 3,600 years was broken. Demonic qi would spill into the mortal realm. A great upheaval was sure to follow.

Or the blade might fall upon his son—for it was the dragon son who had acted, and Ao Liu had merely been deceived, guilty of negligence at most.

Ao Liu said slowly: “It was my failure in oversight. It was I who never took the time to see what sort of companions my son had made. Never imagined he would be bewitched and still harbor delusions.”

“A son untrained is a father’s failing. To take punishment in his place is only just. As for my son, perhaps he’ll make a trip to the Dragon-Locking Well and come out with his life still intact.”

Lord Lingmiao looked at the savage scar still on his old friend’s brow—his expression conflicted. He sighed deeply:

“Back then… if not for you forcing yourself to bring rain upon Jinzhou,  and being struck by that fierce and blazing baleful qi, leaving the fire poison to fester in your five viscera and six bowels, with your Dao attainment, would you have been forced to hand your duties over to your son in such haste? Would things have come to this?”

“If not for your need to enter seclusion and purge the fire poison, you would surely have noticed something when he acted.”

Ao Liu did not reply. He only smiled and said: “What happened in those years has already passed.”

Lord Lingmiao spoke: “That child… he must be the one who survived the incident in Jinzhou, correct?”

Ao Liu replied: “Yes.”

Dragons are beings closest to the innate; endowed with perfect memory, it is their nature.

He still remembered that day, when he passed over Jinzhou and saw the young child lying unconscious there. When the rain fell, the child opened his eyes. Their reunion came again in a teahouse in the Central Province—he was holding a child in his arms, and when he looked down, he saw the young Daoist walking through the dust of the mortal world. In that moment, he came to understand the unspeakable wonder of the mortal world.

Lord Lingmiao hesitated for a moment and then said: “That child… is now the Five-Thunder Judge of the Northern Pole Exorcism Court.”

“You…”

Ao Liu smiled and replied:

“I shall await his sword.”

A faint sorrow surfaced in Lord Lingmiao’s expression.

There were countless words he wished to say.

He could have spoken of how foolish Ao Liu’s current actions were, even of how he was throwing his life away to save that irredeemable fool. He had every reason to dissuade Ao Liu. But standing in Ao Liu’s place, everything could be explained with just two words: father and son.

The aged Dragon King raised his cup, offering it in respect to his old friend, and said:

“Whether as man or as dragon, there will one day come a death.”

“Heavenly officials of the Celestial Court busy themselves day after day—merely in pursuit of longevity pills within Heaven’s vaults. Ghostly deities toil endlessly—only for Yin Virtue and Yin Longevity, in hopes of rebirth.”

“But if my death can allow my son to understand what duty truly is—

To make him realize that everything he does comes at a cost, and that cost includes me—

That the greater one’s strength, the wider the consequences, and the heavier the price—

Then, with my death, I may pull him back onto the righteous path.”

“If even then he remains deluded and unmoved, then it may truly be that he is beyond salvation.”

He drained the first cup of wine and poured a second.

“To give Wuhuo that child the sword to sever karma and grievances—

I once saved him, and he now slays me for the greater good—

Only then can his Dao Heart be tempered, his path clarified, and his resolve known.

Had he struck down my son, he would not have experienced such inner tumult.

But if he cuts me down—

Then his future shall be boundless.”

“Thus, Heaven and Earth may gain one more upright Judge who shall wield thunder to sweep away all evils.”

The second cup of wine was drained, but the third was only half drunk, and the remaining half was poured upon the ground. 

“Third, let this body of flesh and blood of mine repay the grievances owed in the Central Province.”

“With that, there is nothing left to regret.”

The three cups of wine were finished.

The aged Dragon King rose to his feet. “All seek life—yet I seek death.”

“With my life, I shall rescue my son from the wayward path, temper a youth’s Dao Heart, and grant the sentient world a rain of dragon’s blood.”

“Old friend, tell me—such a death, is it not worthy?”

He smiled faintly. “But you must grant me seven days’ time.”

Lord Lingmiao asked, “What do you intend to do?”

Ao Liu said: “To do the things I must. As you said, send my niece to safety according to the original agreement, then settle some matters. I know you carry a blade for fear that I might flee—rest assured, here in Lingmiao Mountain, I am no match for you. If you act, I will naturally be captured. Still, I hope you will trust me.”

“Let me leave now. I shall not flee. Seven days from now, Ao Liu shall return of his own accord, to accept death and punishment.”

After a long while, the Mountain God Lingmiao Gong slowly sheathed his blade.

The Dragon King Ao Liu laughed aloud, slightly cupped his hands, drank the final cup, and with it, drank away a thousand years of enmity and grace. He said, “Take care, Dao-friend.” With that, he turned and left. Lord Lingmiao couldn’t help but take a step forward and shout: “Ao Liu! Seven years ago, when you saved that child in the rain at Jinzhou, which brought about today’s bitter retribution—have you ever regretted it?”

The Dragon King did not answer, only laughed several times, casually swept his sleeve, and his departing figure was carefree and unrestrained. Though white-haired and grim-faced, he still carried the same bearing that once caused the Chess Master of the Central Province to fall for him.

He had already transformed into a divine dragon and departed.