Qi WuHuo asked curiously,
"Meet the senior brothers?"
The old man shook his head as he looked at him.
"You, you... You're already looking forward to it? Of course I'll have to let you meet them."
"But night has only just fallen. It's a fine stretch of time—we can't waste it. I've told you before that whether you gather and refine primordial essence or breathe in primordial qi, there are limits to how long you should practice. Go past them and you'll hurt yourself. But you ate some good food today, so we won't set a limit."
"Let's see how long you can sit in meditation."
Qi WuHuo nodded, still managing to suppress his curiosity and anticipation. Then he sat at the very front of the boat, facing the night and the evening breeze. He held his left hand up with his right, their thumbs lightly touching, and stilled his breath and mind as he gathered and refined primordial qi.
Yet after only one breath, he felt a faint stream of light flow into his mouth.
Like moonlight.
Gathering and refining moonlight was nothing unusual.
But here, it seemed especially rich.
Impossibly rich—
With a mouthful of moonlight in my belly.
The clear qi from the food he had eaten surged into motion inside him.
When cultivators had just begun their training, they needed to breathe in primordial qi and gather and refine the essence of their Life Treasures throughout their bodies, seeking to bring them to perfection.
This step should have come gradually, through patient effort. But when Qi WuHuo was young, he had suffered a calamity, and the foundation of his body had been damaged. It was like a water jar with cracks: primordial qi would always leak away. Now, however, an immense torrent of primordial qi rushed toward him. As he breathed it in, it flowed through his whole body like a vast ocean, and the clear qi within rose to mend those cracks.
Moonlight tempered him as he gathered and refined his essence.
Qi WuHuo's sensations now were nothing like the unhurried ease of ordinary cultivation. Two streams of qi crossed within him, one inside and one out, filling him with painful pressure. As the cracks in his foundation were repaired, he also felt a prickling numbness. All these sensations came at once, yet he still had to keep his qi from falling into disorder and maintain an even rhythm. It was like dangling from a cliff, with only one hand gripping the rock face.
That one hand had to support his whole body. It was weak and aching, with pain lurking beneath the surface, as if the slightest slip would send him tumbling from the cliff. He had a premonition that if that happened, the two streams of clear qi would collide and naturally disperse from his body.
Qi WuHuo kept his eyes closed, breathing slowly.
His body was in terrible pain and discomfort, yet he maintained the steady flow of qi and evenness of his breath.
The old man stroked his beard and nodded, then chuckled to himself atop the boat.
"The sun rises and the moon sets. The sun is the heart, the nature, the Primordial Spirit; the moon is the kidneys, the life, the primordial qi."
"Only by cultivating both nature and life can one follow the true path."
The young Daoist knew nothing of this.
He simply breathed and cultivated.
The vast, boundless river seemed to stretch without end. Ripples rose across it, layered with starlight, as though reflecting the stars filling the sky. But when one looked up, there were no stars. All around was silent, save for the great ship slowly moving forward, cleaving through layer upon layer of waves and ripples.
The night breeze stirred, yet no moon could be seen.
Looking down, heh—the moon was in the water.
A gigantic full moon lay beneath the great ship, its moonlight flowing as though it were lifting the vessel.
On the ship, the boy breathed evenly.
A faint layer of moonlight seemed to envelop his whole body.
Qi WuHuo had no idea how long he had been breathing. He only knew that the painful pressure was almost unbearable. He kept telling himself, Just hold on a little longer. Just a little longer. Time passed slowly, and at last the stabbing pain gradually faded. The aching, prickling numbness also disappeared.
It was as though the cracks within him were slowly being filled, then vanishing altogether.
After an unknown length of time, the boy stirred and slowly opened his eyes.
There was no sky in sight.
Only endless purple clouds filled his gaze.
When he had first begun meditating and closed his eyes, he had been sitting on a great ship large enough to hold hundreds of people. Now the ship had vanished. The sky was filled with rosy clouds, like a sky reflected in water, and the boy sat upon nothing more than a tree branch. Ripples spread beneath him as he formed a seal with his hands, the cloud-like sleeves of his Daoist robe hanging down.
His mind was peaceful. He did not stir a thought; he simply felt that the scene before him brought him an inexplicable calm.
A Daoist meditated amid the purple clouds.
Gulls and herons forgot the world.
Then forgot themselves.
No one knew how much time passed before the purple glow gradually faded and the waters began to stir. Suddenly, laughter came from the distance. Qi WuHuo saw the old man standing on the riverbank, stroking his beard as he laughed.
"WuHuo, are you awake?"
"Come over."
Qi WuHuo's mind had been untouched by a speck of dust.
Now a ripple stirred within it—he had become attached to something.
At once, he could no longer maintain that ethereal, otherworldly poise. He wobbled, cried out, and plunged into the water.
The old man burst into laughter. It seemed rare to see his usually mature-for-his-age disciple like this, and it put him in an especially good mood.
He beckoned the boy to the riverbank. Qi WuHuo coughed as he clambered out, his black hair soaked. He raised a sleeve and wiped his forehead.
The old man stroked his beard and laughed as he looked at him.
"Earlier, your mind was attached to nothing, so you could become one with all things and hold on to that mysterious state of mind."
"Then your thoughts began to stir, and down you went! Haha."
Qi WuHuo seemed unusually unwilling to concede. "My cultivation is still lacking."
"If it were a little higher, I would've been fine."
The old man laughed. "Then I'll wait and see."
When Qi WuHuo turned around, the water still held that same tree branch. It was soaked through, rising and falling in the choppy waves as the current tossed it against the bank. Tiny grains of sand clung to it. Compared with its former splendor, it looked rather lonely and forlorn. The young Daoist thought for a moment, then picked it up too.
The old man said, "What, you can't bear to part with it?"
Qi WuHuo said, "I just suddenly thought it would be a shame to leave it here."
The old man laughed quietly.
He watched as the boy washed the branch with clean water, then wiped it dry. There was nowhere else to put it. The sword case could hold things, but it already contained a zither, a sword, and several scrolls, leaving little room. He also worried he might damage the books. After thinking it over, he simply wore the branch at his waist, tucking it diagonally into his sash.
The old man looked at the young Daoist and shook his head with a smile. "Good."
Qi WuHuo asked, "Teacher, which senior brother are we going to find?"
The old man stroked his beard. "We'll go first to the one in the highest position. Come with me."
He walked ahead. Qi WuHuo followed with the sword case on his back, asking curiously,
"What kind of person is this senior brother, Teacher?"
The boy heard the old man laugh beside him.
"Him? Let me think."
"He holds the highest position in the capital and is known as the Venerable Celestial Master."
"The emperor honors him, the officials bow before him. He built the Ascension Platform to observe the myriad things and myriad laws, and record the constellations and stars."
As the old man spoke in a low voice, the surroundings swirled. The surging waters gradually faded, replaced by the bustling streets of the Capital City. Qi WuHuo could hear street vendors along the road and the coming and going of passersby. Snow had fallen over the capital; red walls and glazed tiles rose beside vermilion gates and high courtyard walls. Amid the mortal bustle, there was also a sense of serenity. The old man led the boy onward. Snow crunched beneath their feet as he calmly explained:
"He established Passage Hall, standing alongside Tongwen Hall. All the realm's learned scholars have entered his school."
"Every thirty days, he opens a forum to expound the Dao, discussing mysteries and the Way. They say he can tell the fortunes and disasters of a thousand years past and future, and discern the turning of events a thousand li away."
"He is called the Profound True Master, and has tens of thousands of disciples."
"He is known as the First Patriarch and Daoist True Person Yi, yet he lives simply. He cares neither for women nor for luxury or pleasure; his heart is devoted only to the Dao."
The old man took out some money and bought the boy a roasted sweet potato. The blue-robed young Daoist cupped it in both hands, eating in small bites and breathing out warm puffs.
The old man led him onward, slowly describing this senior brother.
When they stopped, Qi WuHuo held the warm sweet potato and looked up. Before him stood a vast, unadorned building. He could faintly hear the sounds of various Magic Artifacts playing music. Cultivators entered respectfully, one after another, while the carriages of high officials and nobles stretched into the distance, nearly filling the entire Vermilion Bird Avenue.
And beyond the high officials and nobles, ordinary people in plain clothes and straw sandals also came and went.
The company included great scholars, and the passersby included common folk.
Looking up, he saw pines and cypresses growing so tall that even the building's high walls could not hide their drooping canopies. The sound of someone expounding the Dao could be heard faintly within.
The subject was the teachings of Primordial Prenatal Qi.
They were profound and abstruse, already a complete system—far beyond Qi WuHuo's own understanding.
The old man stroked his beard. "He's the first person you're going to meet. I encountered him three hundred and seventy years ago. Even in a ruined temple on a rainy night, he could still study by lamplight. He was perceptive and gifted, able to discuss the affairs of the realm as well as mysteries and the Dao. He said he wanted to benefit the whole world, and could discuss plans for the next five hundred years over a single game of chess. Now, he has achieved it."
"I once bestowed the Daoist title Jade Yang upon him. WuHuo, today you'll meet him."
"And you'll be meeting yourself, too."
Qi WuHuo finished the roasted sweet potato in two or three bites. Steam rose from it, and beneath his eyes was still the joy of meeting a fellow disciple. He asked,
"What should I say?"
The old man replied, "Ask whether he's willing to come with me and travel the world in search of the Dao."
The old man's voice was as warm and calm as ever.
"Today, either he comes away with you."
"Or I take back his Daoist title."
Qi WuHuo paused, feeling the weight of those words and a faint, cool detachment. It was not in the old man's tone or manner, for he was still gentle. It was a chill too vast for a boy of this age to describe or put into words.
Yet in that moment, Qi WuHuo understood. This final lesson in parting was not what he had imagined.
Qi WuHuo glanced at his Teacher, but this time he could not make out the old man's eyes.
In the countless memories that came later, those eyes held neither joy nor sorrow, only an immense, tranquil acceptance.
He felt only the vast, boundless, distant calm of the Great Dao.
The old man laid a hand on his hair and said gently,
"Go."
Before you continue