Xuan Du Temple seemed to be the same old Xuan Du Temple. The jade chimes for Daoist lessons rose and fell, the morning bells and evening drums remained melodious, the peach blossoms were still there, and cultivation was still cultivation.
Those Daoists who had done odd jobs at Xuan Du Temple had all returned to their respective homes, each in a different mood. Some stepped out of the temple gates and immediately rode the wind, shrinking mountains and rivers as they hurried back to their own immortal residences and cultivation grounds to become Patriarchs, National Teachers, or State Protecting True Persons for various dynasties. Some felt that the temple's vegetarian fare was truly unfit for human consumption and rushed to the nearest tavern to reward their stomachs and satisfy their cravings. Some unhurriedly went to Immortal Ferry Crossings to buy Travelogues and Reports, used willow branches to swat away the bad luck clinging to them, and changed into brand-new Daoist robes. Others stood outside the gates, silently clasping their hands in salute as they bade farewell to Xuan Du Temple.
Some Daoists who had not known each other before had formed grudges here, and there would surely be scores to settle in the future. Others had become inseparable friends. Only one young Daoist calling himself Daoist Sou remained, still unwilling to leave and still serving as a menial laborer here.
A pretty young girl of very low seniority in Xuan Du Temple walked through a corridor of carved beams and painted rafters, two Daoist books tucked beneath her arm. Outside lay a White Jade Square, where ancient trees towered overhead and green shade flowed like water. She watched the Daoist hugging a broom as he blankly gazed at the sky, utterly unable to understand him. If he could leave, why