The Flame Burned Out

The great hall lay steeped in seclusion, incense smoke curling upward.

Mo Chuan looked at Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy with a half-smile, inwardly sighing. After all, he was just a child—he could not hide his curiosity.

"Saving the world and delivering people from suffering is the duty of our Daoist school. This humble Daoist has already subdued the Headless Ghost!"

As his words fell, Mo Chuan's figure faded away. Dimly, he sensed another strand of ownerless incense faith.

Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy stared at the vanished Mo Chuan, his breathing suddenly quickening.

He forcibly suppressed the excitement in his heart, his expression solemn as he prostrated himself and knocked his head against the ground.

Only after three bows and three kowtows did he rise, clasp his hands in the Taiji salute, bow, and retreat.

The moment he left the great hall, he could no longer restrain a child's restless nature. He took off at a run, swift as a sly hare and wild as a gale, whipping up a little whirlwind through the temple.

"Master—Master—"

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest, who was seeing off the Qingshui County yamen runners, spotted a gray figure racing toward him from afar like a flash of lightning and spark.

"That is this humble Daoist's disciple. He has only recently entered the temple and is rather unruly. Please forgive the amusement he has caused you both."

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest's eyelids twitched wildly. He could only awkwardly cup his hands and explain himself to the two yamen runners.

"Hahaha, your temple is quite interesting!"

One of the yamen runners teased him, then left with his companion.

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest remained where he was. As he watched the runners off and looked at Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy drawing ever closer, his old face turned as black as the bottom of a pot.

"Running about in such a panic—what kind of behavior is that?!"

When Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy reached him, Fu Luan's old Daoist priest pulled a long face and scolded him.

"Master—the Patriarch has manifested!"

Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy blurted out the truth in a rush, then began gulping down air uncontrollably.

"The Patriarch manifested? That is not... What? What did you say?"

Before Fu Luan's old Daoist priest could put on his stern demeanor, he lost all composure, his face full of disbelief.

"Huff... huff... Master, I was doing my morning prayers... huff..."

"No rush, no rush. Catch your breath first. Tell me slowly."

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest patted his beloved disciple's back, seeing that he was already beside himself with impatience.

After quite a while, Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy finally caught his breath. He swallowed, moistened his throat, and said with his face glowing:

"Master, I had just finished my morning prayers today when I felt something strange about the statue. I looked up, and guess what I saw?"

Smack!

A knuckle struck Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy's forehead. "What do you mean, 'guess what'? Is the Patriarch someone you can treat... with such disrespect?"

"Ow, Master, go a little easier."

"Speak, quickly."

"Yes, Master."

"The moment I looked up, I saw the Patriarch draped in rosy radiance, standing upon auspicious clouds as he stepped out of the statue. Divine light filled the hall, making even this humble place shine brightly."

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest automatically ignored his disciple's embellishments and asked gravely, "Are you certain it was the Patriarch?"

A flicker of cunning crossed Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy's face.

"Of course! Has Master forgotten? I have already mastered Ghost Immortal Spirit Mediumship. In the unseen, there is naturally a bond of resonance between heaven and man. How could I possibly fail to recognize the Dharma light upon the Patriarch?"

Hearing this, Fu Luan's old Daoist priest let out a breath of relief, his heart filling with even greater gratification.

Xuan Yun truly possessed an inborn spiritual root!

"Go on."

"Yes, Master. When I saw the Patriarch manifest, I immediately performed a grand kowtow..."

Beside the mountain path of Fu Luan Temple, Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy vividly described the scene of witnessing the Patriarch's divine manifestation, inevitably adding rather more flourishes to his words.

However, Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy was born clever. He knew where he could exaggerate and where he could not.

Thus, the substance of the conversation remained essentially unchanged word for word.

It was fortunate that he was clever. Had it been an ordinary Daoist boy, simply recounting it all intact would have been no easy feat.

"Master, look! These are the Ghost Subduing Talismans bestowed by the Patriarch!"

Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy took out a stack of Ghost Subduing Talismans and presented them to his master as if offering treasure.

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest accepted the talismans and stroked them with his palm. Feeling the Jie power contained within, his expression grew complicated.

"From what you have said, the Patriarch should already have cultivated a Ghost Immortal body. This stack of Ghost Subduing Talismans must have been painstakingly inscribed and accumulated when the Patriarch possessed the body of a Jie Immortal, all so that he could leave behind the foundation of inheritance for Fu Luan Temple."

Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy was deeply shaken by this.

He was no ignorant child; he simply had not considered matters so far-reaching in the moment. Once his master enlightened him, he immediately understood the Patriarch's earnest heart in protecting the Dao.

"Master, did the county yamen runners come because of the Headless Ghost?" Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy could not help asking.

"That is right. The county magistrate died after his head was torn off, shocking both court and countryside. The authorities have widely invited experts, intending to perform rites and subdue the demon! Who would have thought it was the Headless Ghost's doing? And who would have thought that our Patriarch Fu Luan had already subdued it long ago? His Dharma is boundless, and Heaven's mandate rests with Fu Luan!"

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest sighed with emotion, though a trace of pride still flashed uncontrollably through his brows.

"Master does not seem surprised?"

"Surprised by what?"

"That the Patriarch captured the Headless Ghost? Didn't you say it was one of the Daoist school's Four Great Evil Ghosts, exceedingly difficult to subdue?"

"Hahaha, that is only for others—it is naturally exceedingly difficult for them. Our Patriarch Fu Luan founded this temple and established this lineage. What is a mere Headless Ghost to him?"

Fu Luan's old Daoist priest, who had languished in obscurity his whole life, had never felt so proud and triumphant as he did now.

Xuan Yun the Daoist Boy's heart trembled at his words. Thinking it over carefully, that really was true!

What was a Headless Ghost?

Even if the Patriarch one day summoned the Four Great Evil Ghosts and used them as his Six Ding and Six Jia attendants, he should not find it strange!

"Xuan Yun! Return to the temple with your master and offer incense."

"Yes, Master!"

When flowers bloom on two branches, each tells its own tale.

Some saw the Patriarch's return and sensed the faint signs of great prosperity;

Others sought to accomplish what their predecessors had left unfinished, to build a temple and establish a lineage, yet in the end gained only a thatched hut in which to scrape through the rest of their days.

Thirty-nine li west of Qingshui County stood Huayin Mountain. The mountain abounded in gold, jade, verdigris, and realgar. The Hequ River rose there and flowed southeast into the Qingshui River.

In a concealed place amid the mountains stood an unnamed Daoist temple, nestled among deep grass.

To call it a Daoist temple was generous—it was merely a single thatched hut.

If not for the plaque above the door, its gilt paint peeling away, and the clay deity statue inside, it would have been no different from a hunter's temporary shelter.

At that moment, within the remote hut, an aged Daoist on the verge of death brought out the Daoist robe he had treasured for many years and used all his strength to dress himself neatly.

Soon after, he took three incense sticks. He searched for a long while without finding any candle flame, until his gaze quietly fell upon the dirt stove on the western side of the temple, blackened by smoke.

Within the stove, a few pieces of firewood still glowed faintly.

A trace of bitter grief appeared on his face. Stove-ash fire, also called Crouching Dragon Dung, could not be used to light incense. To do so was a grave disrespect!

Yet he slowly rose anyway, walked over, and used the stove fire to light the offering incense.

The three incense sticks were for honoring the Dao, honoring the scriptures, and honoring the master.

He had meant to recite each dedication in turn and make his offerings with sincerity, but when the incense reached his hand, he thrust all three into the burner at once.

After cultivating in the barren mountains for nearly sixty years, he had long forgotten the many elaborate rites amid the hardships of daily life.

Or perhaps, as a traitor who had strayed from the scriptures and rebelled against the Dao, his disregard for etiquette was precisely the root of his obscure name and shallow Daoist arts.

"Disciple Yan Zhen has felt today that, before long, my soul will return to the Three Mountains and my spirit to the Five Peaks! After sixty years of bitter cultivation, I once vowed to save the world and deliver people from suffering. Yet now Qingshui faces disaster, this decaying body cannot move, my yin spirit cannot leave, and all my cultivation has been worn away by firewood, rice, oil, and salt."

Yan Zhen paused. Those few sentences had already exhausted all his strength.

Only the surging thoughts in his mind remained, churning without end.

After a long silence, he sighed. "They say incense rises from a sincere heart, and smoke comes with faith. One sincere thought reaches the heavenly realm, and all true immortals descend the jade stairs!"

"This old Daoist has seen spirits, monsters, and vicious ghosts, yet never have I seen the true immortals descend into the mortal world."

"Do immortals truly exist in this world?"

Having spoken words that shook his own faith, he knocked his head heavily against the ground, then slowly rose, walked to the straw bed on the eastern side, and gradually lay down.

He could feel that, at the end of his life when the oil was spent and the lamp was dying, his body was becoming lighter bit by bit, while his senses gradually peeled away.

The yin spirit that had once been so difficult to release seemed as though it could leap free of his body's restraints at any moment.

But he did not dare let it leap out.

For beyond the mortal shell lay great terror. Once it emerged, he would ultimately be unable to escape death and the dispersal of his Dao.

One's nature could be clever or clumsy, and either could be concealed.

A person of dull, wooden nature had his own way of cultivating the Dao, yet he had insisted on defying Heaven. Great disaster was now upon him.

"Saving the world and delivering people from suffering—who will deliver me?"

"Master, this disciple misses you. This disciple wants to... go home."

The old Daoist murmured as he closed his eyes.

In a daze, he vaguely saw his master standing before the straw bed, looking at him with a kindly face.

"Daoist friend, this humble Daoist wishes to borrow your body for a time. Would that be acceptable?"

"Borrow it, borrow it. So long as you do no evil."

Crack—

A bolt of lightning tore across the heavens, illuminating all of Huayin Mountain. Moments later, thunder boomed, startling the mountain's beasts and birds into scattering in every direction.

"Whoosh—"

Before long, torrential rain poured down, blurring the wild mountain landscape.

"Quick, quick! There seems to be a house ahead. We can shelter from the rain there."

Amid the lashing mountain rain, excited shouts drifted faintly through the air. Beyond those cries, something ominous trailed behind.

It could sense that the old Daoist's oil was spent and his lamp was dying!