A Friend Came from Afar

An edict was the will of Heaven.

A command was a tally held to summon people.

And the Supreme...

He dared not think it, dare not say it, dare not even read it.

Then the vital energy between Heaven and Earth seemed to gather, surging violently. Elder Tao felt his heart pounding wildly. He staggered a step, as though he had fallen into a whirlpool. When he looked up, Heaven and Earth were clear and bright, yet he could only vaguely hear two voices: one old and gentle, the other youthful and clear. They chanted in hushed tones. At last, the old man's voice gradually faded, as though it had been nothing more than an illusion.

Only the young man's voice remained, clear and bright.

"Supreme Edict, deliver these lonely souls. All ghosts and spirits, let the four kinds of life receive grace."

"Those with heads, transcend; those without, ascend. Slain by spear or blade, drowned in water or hanged by rope."

"Whether death came in the open or in secret, whether wrongfully or unjustly, creditors and vengeful foes, those who come to claim lives."

"Kneel before my altar; let the Eight Trigrams shine. Stand in the Kan position and depart, transcending birth for another realm."

Qi WuHuo merely followed the old man's recitation. As he played the zither, threads of golden light appeared upon its strings. He saw the baleful energy lift from the victims. The men and women whose bodies bore the hideous marks of their deaths were restored to their original appearances in that golden light.

Their clothes grew clean and neat; bloodstains and bruises vanished.

A faint golden radiance shimmered around them.

At last, they seemed to realize it was time to leave. Seeing the faint golden light around themselves, they gazed gratefully at the youth playing the zither. When Qi WuHuo tried to rise and return their courtesy, he staggered, unable to get to his feet.

The old man stroked his beard and said calmly, "Do not overexert yourself."

"This incantation was formed by your great vow to deliver others, at the cost of your Primordial Spirit."

"Though I helped you, you still spent a great deal of your own strength."

Qi WuHuo nodded. His fingers rested on the strings as he watched the souls disappear with a gentle smile. Only then did he look away and ask, "Old man, what is this incantation called?"

The old man stroked his beard casually.

"I just came up with it. It has no name."

Qi WuHuo asked in confusion, "You just came up with it?"

The old man laughed heartily, his expression unchanged. "That's right, that's right. I've lived too long. It took me quite a while to remember it just now."

"When you get old, you tend to forget things."

Qi WuHuo said, "If you remembered it, then it must have a name."

"It does indeed. I just remembered it."

The old man stroked his beard and smiled.

"Yes, I just remembered it."

"Its full title should be the Supreme Dao Lord's Chapter on the Incantation for Delivering the Suffering, Rescuing the Afflicted, and Releasing Souls into Rebirth."

"Chapter...?" Qi WuHuo murmured.

The old man smiled. "Daoist scriptures are divided into different ranks. Depending on their profundity, they can roughly be classified as [Wondrous Methods], [Profound Chapters], [Jade Incantations], [Daoist Canons], and [True Scriptures], in order of increasing difficulty. Though [True Scriptures] are supposedly the highest rank, they are also the most widespread. Whatever level a text may truly belong to, most are given the title [True Scripture]."

"I don't think their authors are being presumptuous."

"Those who wrote the scriptures likely hoped that those who came after them would strive forward with courage and make great strides."

"Perhaps they truly could develop the fundamental methods into [True Scriptures]."

The old man seemed to approve of this practice.

Qi WuHuo murmured those words to himself. Then he thought of the Profound Chapter, The Lingbao Ninefold Abyss, Long Night, Raising Corpses and Delivering the Dead, cultivated by Tantai Xuan, who had refined Primordial Prenatal Qi, mastered the divine ability to command the wind, and claimed he could establish a lineage of his own. Curiosity stirred in Qi WuHuo about what he himself was learning. He hesitated, wanting to ask, but after a moment, closed his mouth again.

The old man smiled. "Is there something you want to ask, WuHuo?"

Qi WuHuo pressed his lips together.

In the end, he was still a spirited young man. He lowered his voice and quickly asked, "Then what is it that you taught me?"

The old man burst into laughter.

At last, he had glimpsed a trace of youth in this boy, who had slain Evil Cultivators and delivered the souls of the dead with such equanimity.

He pointed at the blue-robed youth. "You, you! Hahaha."

"But you are still young. Treat what happens in a dream as Heart Refining. It may be real or false, but you cannot take it as truth."

"You're asking what you're cultivating?"

"If I must answer..."

The old man paused, stroking his beard, his expression warm and carefree. "Listen well. What I taught you—"

"Does not belong among these five categories."

"It is not a [Wondrous Method], nor a [Profound Chapter], nor a [Jade Incantation]."

"It is not kept in a [Daoist Canon], nor recorded as a [True Scripture]."

"It is passed down by word of mouth alone. You know, I know, and you alone have learned it."

"And this, you must never pass on to anyone else."

Qi WuHuo did not yet know enough about cultivation to understand what the old man meant by his teasing words.

The old man took from his hands the scroll containing the people's last wishes. Seeing the regrets and words of hope they had wanted to pass on to their families, each character sincere and heartfelt, he closed the scroll and sighed. "WuHuo, do you know why the Daoist sects require several trials of Heart Refining before passing on their teachings, and only impart the Great Dao to those whose hearts are pure and resolute?"

Looking at the writing, the old man said, "Cultivators seek immortality. For the first half of their lives, they often roam the world, carefree and unrestrained."

"They disdain all manner of methods for prolonging life."

"But as they go further, they near the limits of their lifespans, with no path to breakthrough."

"The longer this goes on, the more the pressure fills them with fear. If their character is not strong enough, they often cannot endure that terror. Little by little, they change, becoming vermin who will use any means to gain more years of life. Vermin are poisonous insects... They will resort to anything to prolong their own lives."

"Though every school is exceedingly cautious when passing on its teachings, the human heart is prone to change, and even the most careful cannot predict it with certainty."

"Vermin..." Qi WuHuo murmured.

As the old man spoke, Qi WuHuo seemed to see one young Daoist after another, as spirited as he was now, forging ahead until they could no longer withstand the pressure of their limited lifespans. They gradually twisted away from their original hearts, becoming warped vermin in the cracks between Heaven and Earth, writhing with a desperate hunger to prolong their lives.

The old man glanced at him. "Do you know why?"

"Because once you refine your Primordial Essence and reclaim your Life Treasure, you will see for yourself how long you have left to live."

Qi WuHuo's expression shifted. He understood the weight of those words.

"After that, with each passing day, you will know exactly how much vital energy and lifespan you have spent."

"You will feel your life dwindling, every day, and sense the day of your death drawing near."

The old man pointed two fingers at Qi WuHuo's brow. A feeling of stagnation and sharp pain welled in his Cinnabar Palace.

"It will be like seeing a sword fated to take your life coming for you, day after day."

"You cannot dodge it or flee. On that day, at that hour, your vital energy is destined to disperse and you are destined to die. It draws closer every day, every month."

"It never takes a step quickly, but it never stops moving."

"That is the great terror."

The old man rubbed the youth's head and smiled. "But remember this."

"Though you seek immortality, you must not fear death. The Daoist is the one who beats a tub and sings."

"You call yourself a poor Daoist; then you must know what it means to be a Daoist."

"One who walks the Great Way, whose body and mind follow reason, who obeys only the Way and makes the Way their path—that is a Daoist."

"Today, I pass on four words to you. WuHuo, you must remember them."

The old man paused.

"Seek, but do not covet."

"You seem to have a friend coming. I will not show myself..."

The old man rubbed Qi WuHuo's black hair. By the time he lifted his hand, he had vanished, as naturally as if he had never been there.

Qi WuHuo's Primordial Spirit was utterly exhausted, yet he sensed a familiar presence outside. He could not tell which local deity it belonged to, nor could he call them by name. He wanted to get up and open the door, but his body was even weaker than his Primordial Spirit; he could not move at all. He could only touch the zither's strings and use his Primordial Spirit to pluck them, opening the door that way.

Elder Tao stared at the low wooden door, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He had just heard the zither and seen the souls—purified by the methods of the Spiritual Treasure Cave Profound lineage—directly delivered into the afterlife.

A single melody, delivering the souls of the dead?!!

The old land god had known the ghostly bailiffs of the Underworld, yet he had never heard of such a method!

He wanted to retreat.

He dared not!

As he struggled with indecision, the zither sounded again, its notes slow and spacious as pines, cool and transcendent as an immortal's song. The wooden door opened of its own accord.

Beneath the plum tree, the youth sat playing the zither. His blue robe was unchanged, his black hair hanging loose. His voice was clear and warm.

"A friend came from afar. Is that not a joy?"

"Friend, please come in..."