Rotting Axe, Woodcutter, Square Inch Mountain

When Zhao Ji came over, he greeted them with great courtesy and gave a slight bow. "Honored Daoist masters, I'm a woodcutter from Longshan Town at the foot of this mountain. My family has made a living cutting wood here for generations. But today I must have lost my head, because I wandered into the mountain and lost my way. I've been wandering around here for an hour or two, and still haven't found the way back."

"Honored Daoist masters, have mercy. May I ask what region this is, and which way leads back to Longshan Town?"

The black-haired Daoist, his bearing gentle and serene, gazed at the board and answered warmly, "Young friend, turn around and follow the stream you came by for an hour. Each time the path turns, take the left fork. At the fifth turn, you'll see a great boulder, with a tree beneath it. From there, turn downhill, and you'll be able to return home."

"Your family has been waiting a long time. You should hurry down the mountain."

Now that he knew the way back, the woodcutter was in no such hurry. He thought that he must have encountered an Immortal Destiny.

His aged parents were in poor health, and every night they were startled awake by nightmares. If he could ask for some pills, they might ease their heart palpitations. He hesitated, then felt that such a thought was truly wicked and greedy. His face was thin-skinned, and he couldn't help flushing. He stammered for a long while, unable to get the words out.

He took a few more steps and saw that game of Go again. For some reason, Zhao Ji froze when he saw it, then found himself drawn into it against his will. It was as if this game were