Like an Immortal Among Mortals

Winter marked the end, when all things were stored away.

This was the beginning of winter. From this point onward, at least in this corner of heaven and earth, vitality began to withdraw and gather inward, and all things entered a state of rest and recuperation.

According to the Four Seasons Cycle Method Song You cultivated, the spiritual power cultivated in this season carried the qualities of sealing away vitality, halting progress, and lying dormant in concealment. However, these were merely innate traits of the spiritual power itself and were not particularly powerful. If used to activate similar spells, it would provide a boost; if used to drive ordinary spells, it was no different from normal spiritual power; if used to drive opposing spells, its effects would be poor.

This differed from methods of drawing in the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.

When he rose from bed, it was early morning. Another thread of snow-white spiritual power had formed within him. This thread of spiritual power was quite extraordinary—it seemed cultivation truly required drawing upon the essence of different mountains and waters.

A thick layer of frost covered the floor of the room, which was rather wondrous as well.

Three Flower Lady had run off somewhere again.

Song You was about to go out and look for her when he heard people chatting outside.

"Master, what sort of immortal mountain is that Fulong Temple? And what kind of great master is Daoist Song? I'd never even heard of them before. How come, when he met the Palace Master, he didn't even address him as Dao Master?"

"Fulong Temple is a hidden immortal abode. It's perfectly normal that you haven't heard of it, but our Fuqing Palace has been fortunate enough to forge ties with them, so we know Fulong Temple quite well."

"Why is it called Fulong Temple? Was there once an immortal who subdued a dragon there?"

"The 'fu' in Fulong does not mean subdue—it means to lie low, to lurk in hiding. It is not that an immortal once subdued a dragon here, but that those within the temple are likened to crouching dragons. When a crouching dragon lives in seclusion, the world knows nothing of it; when it emerges from the mountains, none under heaven can rival it." The gentle voice was filled with patience. "Fulong Temple has been passed down from master to disciple, one at a time. No one knows how many years its lineage has endured. Not only has it never been broken, but it has truly lived up to its name: every generation's temple master has been a dragon or phoenix among men, rarely matched by anyone. Daoist Song is the inheritor of this generation."

"Only one person?"

"Usually, there are two: master and disciple."

"That's so few."

"The current master of Fulong Temple, Daoist Duoxing, is like an immortal among men."

"No wonder he called the Palace Master 'Daoist brother.'"

The little child's voice sounded astonished.

Song You merely smiled and stood by the doorway without stepping out.

In truth, he called Guanghua Zi "Daoist brother" rather than "Dao Master" partly because lineage was not counted across different mountains, and partly because he and Guanghua Zi truly were of the same generation.

When Fulong Temple's founding patriarch first formed ties with Fuqing Palace's Palace Master, they had associated as peers. However, Fulong Temple changed generations far more slowly than ordinary temples and monasteries. Fuqing Palace passed to a new generation every twenty or thirty years, while Fulong Temple took at least forty or fifty years for each generation. Thus, by the time Fulong Temple had only changed to its second temple master, Fuqing Palace had already reached its third generation.

Guanghua Zi was slightly younger than Song You's master. In his youth, he had admired her and had always called her Dao Master, generally an honorific for Taoist priests from other mountains who were much older.

As such, Song You naturally could only call him Daoist brother or Daoist Song.

The people outside chatted for a while longer. Their voices did not shift position, as though they were waiting for someone. Gradually, their conversation drifted farther and farther away. Afraid they would feel awkward, Song You did not go out until they had left, only then pushing open the door.

Just then, Three Flower Lady came back from outside with tiny, quick steps.

"Good morning, Three Flower Lady."

"Good morning, Taoist priest."

"Where did Three Flower Lady go?"

"Three Flower Lady went to eat breakfast. I saw you sitting there without moving, so you must have been cultivating. I didn't call you."

"You..."

Song You shook his head with a smile.

Of course, he knew that the reason Three Flower Lady had agreed to stay the day before yesterday was that lavish midday banquet. The fish and meat had delighted her. Yesterday, too, every meal had included fish and meat. The Daoists of Fuqing Palace seemed to understand that, if they wanted Song You to remain for a long while, they had to attend to Three Flower Lady as well, so every day they tried new ways to please her.

She was quite the little greedy cat.

Song You closed the door and went to eat breakfast as well.

Before he had even finished, the two young Daoists, Chuyun and Yingfeng, came again and said to him, "Daoist brother, the weather is fine today. Why don't we go to the mountaintop to admire the clouds?"

"Excellent."

"Take your time eating, Daoist brother."

"Very well."

Song You indeed ate slowly.

Breakfast was steamed buns with filling. The risen dough was firm and substantial, as was the filling within. It had a simple, honest flavor. Paired with thin porridge and pickled vegetables, it was the sort of good meal ordinary commoners in these years could not afford. And judging by the other fellow Daoists in the dining hall, Fuqing Palace did not eat like this every day either.

After breakfast, they climbed the mountain. Footprints had long since appeared on the bluestone steps.

Yingfeng and Chuyun were both very good people. One was gentle and talkative, while the other spoke considerately and was especially attentive to others. Both were good-looking too. Had they been born in later generations and not entered the Daoist path, they would most likely have been two consummate playboys.

Daoists had leisure in abundance and often found pleasure in climbing mountains and taking long walks. The two knew Qingcheng Mountain better than anyone, and as they walked, they introduced the mountain's temples to Song You.

It was said that there were fifty-six temples of varying sizes on the mountain, along with countless thatched huts for secluded cultivation. Most merely studied Daoist Scriptures; only nine temples possessed Daoist lineages, though some reclusive masters also dwelled in the huts.

In truth, most temples in the world were like this.

The overwhelming majority had no Daoist lineage. They merely studied Daoist Scriptures, worshipped Daoist deities, and contemplated Daoist thought.

Even among the rare few with Daoist lineages, what they inherited might not be what people imagined.

How should one put it...

Among that rare few, most merely passed down certain knowledge and experience—for example, the preferences and weaknesses of certain ghosts and monsters, how to light incense to communicate with deities, and the procedures for ritual services. Such things required no spiritual power. Even sincere ordinary people or ghost- and demon-hunters with no cultivation whatsoever could make them work.

These things might be called Daoist arts, methods, or a kind of skill, but calling them spells would be somewhat inappropriate.

Those with inheritances of magical arts mostly knew only simple spells as well.

Such as communing with the netherworld, exorcising evil, seeing gods, and the like.

They could hardly be called profound methods.

Quite a few common folk even knew them.

Fuqing Palace had been like this several decades ago—neither vulgar nor conspicuous upon Qingcheng Mountain. Only after it formed ties with Fulong Temple did it become the Fuqing Palace now widely acknowledged to possess a true lineage and true masters. Even though the largest temples on Qingcheng Mountain surpassed Fuqing Palace in fame, scale, and number of disciples, and their debates on the Dao ended in mixed victories and defeats, whenever they competed in magical arts, they could only be defeated before Fuqing Palace.

Only from then on did Fuqing Palace gradually flourish.

Even now, though its scale and fame still fell short of those ancient temples with histories of centuries or even millennia, and its scriptural teachings and doctrinal understanding were somewhat inferior, when it came to Daoist arts, it was already hard to find an opponent anywhere on Qingcheng Mountain.

For that very reason, Yingfeng and Chuyun were terrified of failing to host Song You properly. Being scolded upon their return was a small matter; failing in etiquette was the greater one.

They walked and chatted, and before they felt tired, they had reached the mountaintop.

The weather today was indeed fine.

Qingcheng Mountain was not especially tall, however. Unless thick fog blanketed the foothills or mist accumulated after rain, there was no sea of clouds to see. When Chuyun spoke of cloud-viewing, he meant looking at the clouds in the sky.

Song You liked watching clouds too—best of all while lying down.

With mountain-grown kiwifruit as large as pigeon eggs, ripe to softness, along with the steamed buns filled with pickled vegetables they had brought, nothing could have been more pleasant.

"Dao Brother, have you heard the line, 'In the mountains, time has no years; one year is a full sixty-year cycle'?"

"I have."

"Do such immortal mountains truly exist in this world?"

"I have not seen one."

"Dao Master Duoxing has traveled all under heaven. Have you seen one?"

"Probably not."

"Then it is only a rumor."

The young woman in Daoist robes looked somewhat disappointed, as though the immortal aura in the dream within her heart had faded by a few degrees.

Song You neither confirmed it nor denied it.

Time could not be reversed, and once one's hair had turned white, it could not return to black. Yet if time were slowed down—leaving aside this world—even in his previous world, there had been enough theory to support such a notion.

From what he had learned and seen, it was still something mysterious and difficult to explain.

He merely bit into his steamed bun and admired the clouds.

At this moment, the clouds were like pale feathers spread across the blue sky.

"Dao Brother truly knows how to enjoy himself."

"I am a little sleepy."

"My junior sister and I will go find some fruit. Let us sit here until dusk, watch the sunset, then head back. Since Dao Brother is tired, just wait here."

"All right."

The two of them went off smiling and laughing to look for fruit.

Before they found any fruit, they saw red light flickering on a distant mountain. Billowing smoke rose up, surging toward the heavens like a dragon.

"A fire!"

Daoist Yingfeng cried out in alarm.

It seemed yesterday's light rain had only fallen on the mountainside.

Yet the fire borrowed the wind's force, and in the blink of an eye it had spread, leaving great black scars in its wake. It was clear that the consequences would be unthinkable if this continued, but it was a natural disaster. Their cultivation was shallow, and cultivators were not immortals—how could they extinguish a mountain fire with mortal strength?

The two were frantic, yet utterly helpless.

Then a voice came from behind them:

"Do not panic, fellow Daoists."

They turned around to see that Brother Song had already risen to his feet, brushing grass fragments and dirt from his clothes. Like them, he stared at the mountain fire, yet he was not the least bit flustered.

The mountain fire raged, and living creatures suffered. Naturally, it had to be extinguished.

"End!"

With a mere flick of his hand, he sent forth a white star.

The white star crossed the sky and fell into the flames. The fire's energy was sealed within, and the wildfire halfway up the mountain seemed to have been startled as it abruptly contracted. In the blink of an eye, it vanished completely—not even a spark or wisp of smoke remained. Had it not left behind vast swathes of withered grass, trees, and ash, one might have thought it had never existed at all.

For a moment, the two could only stare at each other, their breathing catching in their throats.

At once, they understood why, even after Fuqing Palace had grown to its present scale, it still treated visitors from Fulong Temple with the utmost reverence.

And even went there every year to seek instruction.

So it was not merely etiquette and gratitude.

For the rest of the afternoon, the two remained respectful and courteous, even more obedient than they were before their master, the Palace Master.

Only after dusk did the three finally descend the mountain.

Upon returning to their respective temples, their masters asked how they had gotten along and whether they had formed any friendship. Yet neither knew how to put it into words. They only felt that this Daoist Song was far more profound in cultivation than the previous previous abbot of Fulong Temple, who had first descended the mountain decades ago, as they had heard from their masters.

And from Song You's observations over their day together, these two were both decent people as well—at least for now. Unfortunately, he had no desire to make friends. Asked whom he wished to grow close to, he could not choose; asked whom he found unpleasant, he could not choose either. He was destined to be unable to offer any options for Fuqing Palace's future successor.

After dinner that evening, Song You took out the letter he had prepared and said to Guanghua Zi:

"Daoist Brother, I have one more favor to ask."

"Hmm?"

"I've been away for over a season. I wrote a letter and would like to ask Daoist Brother to take it back for me next spring."

"So that's it."

Guanghua Zi accepted the letter and carefully put it away.