The old Daoist of the scripture pavilion, a breakthrough through scripture

Floating Cloud Mountain.

The mountain rose tall, its forests dense, its grandeur imposing.

A sea of clouds curled like smoke, and rosy light ebbed and flowed like water.

The morning bell rang, startling birds and beasts awake and rousing the Daoists.

Chopping wood, carrying water, sweeping, chanting scriptures...

Daoists young and old each had their duties, each busy with their own work.

Truth-Seeking Abbey, the first floor of the Scripture Pavilion.

A white-haired old Daoist buried his head in the scriptures.

He copied, savored, and contemplated them, oblivious to Nonbeing.

Whenever the young Daoists entering the pavilion saw him, whatever they thought inwardly, they all paid their respects.

Some bowed from afar; others bent forward with their hands clasped.

Some were perfunctory, while others were earnest.

Some were indifferent, while others felt genuine admiration.

All because the old Daoist was an extraordinary figure in the abbey.

He was the Former Abbot's youngest son, yet he had been born impaired and spent decades witless.

Five years ago, the former abbot had passed away as an Immortal.

The shock had been so great that the old Daoist actually regained his senses.

Everyone had thought his misfortunes had finally turned to blessings, and that he would live peacefully and free of worries thereafter. Though he was advanced in years, with aging bones and declining blood and vitality, the blessings left by the former abbey master should have made it easy for him to enter the first realm, bring Yin and Yang into harmony, ward off illness, and extend his life.

Who could have imagined that he would remain unable to enter the Dao?

An ordinary person faced with this would likely have resigned himself to muddling through, but his resolve to seek the Dao was unshakable.

Not only had he swiftly swept the gloom from his heart, he had also taken up permanent residence in the Scripture Pavilion, eating, drinking, and relieving himself there.

For five years, day after day, he had read scriptures and studied the Daoist Canon, uniting knowledge with practice, undeterred by wind or rain.

Even in winter, between reading scriptures, he would take up his brush and write with trembling fingers.

The abbey's disciples were divided in their opinions of him.

Some thought he overestimated himself and ought to face reality, enjoy his remaining years, and stop tormenting himself.

Others thought his Dao Heart was iron, that he was a devout seeker of the Dao whose state of mind transcended the mundane despite being a mere mortal.

Xuanming cared nothing for what others thought. The experiences of two lifetimes and years of tempering had long since taught him to face every outside opinion calmly.

Why trouble himself over worldly affairs, fleeting as clouds? Better to recline at ease and read the scriptures of the Dao.

Time flowed slowly, like water.

The setting sun sank in the west, and another day passed.

The Daoists dispersed. Only the white-haired old Daoist remained bent over his desk, absorbed in the texts, with Nonbeing beyond them in his heart.

The bright sun rose, its light dispelling the darkness.

When the Daoist guarding the pavilion pushed open the doors and found the old man still reading, the lamp oil on his desk exhausted—clear proof of another sleepless night—he could not help sighing. He approached and said, worried yet helpless:

"Martial Uncle, you've ignored my advice again and secretly stayed up reading after I left."

"You're already sixty. Your health must come first. There's no need to rush your study of the Daoist scriptures."

"Only with a healthy body can you keep going longer."

Feeling the wisp of energy in his sea of consciousness finally shift, Xuanming set down the scripture. Bracing himself against the desk, he slowly rose, waved away the Daoist's offered support, and ambled toward the entrance.

Seeing this stubborn old man finally heed his advice for once instead of insisting on his own way, the pavilion guard was delighted.

Hurrying to the doorway, he gathered his courage and said, "Martial Uncle, shall I have someone prepare a vegetarian meal for you first? After eating, you can rest and regain your Divine strength before returning to the scriptures."

Xuanming waved a hand and said calmly, "There's no hurry. The time has come."

The time?

What time?

The pavilion guard was utterly bewildered.

Just then, Xuanming stepped out of the pavilion.

It was the first time he had left in five years.

At that moment, the morning sun was rising in the east, while the Bright Moon was about to sink in the west. Sun and moon met in harmony, day and night exchanged places, and Yin and Yang shifted.

Gazing up at the heavens, Xuanming was blessed with a sudden flash of insight.

A strand of Dao Qi spread out from his sea of consciousness. Wind rose from the ground and circled him, sending his white hair flying and his gray Daoist robe snapping. He floated into the air, three feet above the ground.

High in the heavens, sun and moon shone together.

Each sent down a stream of wondrous energy.

Dawn Purple Qi and Lunar Essence poured into Xuanming's body. His aura grew increasingly profound, his presence rising steadily.

Wind surged and clouds churned. Vast currents of spiritual energy rushed into Xuanming like a hundred rivers returning to Guihai.

His meridians opened one after another, his decaying body was nourished, his wrinkled skin grew rosy, and his stooped back straightened. Xuanming transformed from within to without.

Magic Power surged inside him; outside, spring winds brought nourishing rain.

The pavilion guard stared, dumbstruck.

The young Daoists about to enter the pavilion blanched in shock.

Sensing the energy, several figures flew through the air toward him—the abbey master of Truth-Seeking Abbey and several elders.

At the sight of the old Daoist breaking through, they were momentarily stunned. Then they immediately ordered the disciples not to disturb him and personally took positions to serve as Guardians.

For the moment, Xuanming knew nothing of this.

Immersed in the transformative power of Heaven and Earth, he entered the legendary state of sudden enlightenment. Everything he had gained from years of reading scriptures surged like a mighty river without end, merging with the strand of wondrous energy in his sea of consciousness.

It transformed his root bone and enhanced his comprehension.

The old Daoist saw Heaven, Earth, and all things more clearly.

His enlightenment lasted two hours. When the extraordinary manifestations vanished, he descended to the ground and opened his eyes, his appearance utterly changed.

With crane-white hair and a youthful face, he possessed the bearing of an Immortal.

Feeling the changes within himself, the old Daoist laughed aloud.

"Five years studying scriptures with a white head, and today I have finally entered the Dao."

Not only had he entered the Dao, he had also crossed the first realm and stepped into the Second Realm, his foundation solid and his Dao Qi pure.

Abbey Master Xuanxu led the elders forward, his square face brimming with joy.

"Congratulations on entering the Dao, Senior Brother. From now on, the sea is wide enough for fish to leap, and Heaven high enough for birds to soar."

"Congratulations on successfully entering the Dao, Senior Brother. Henceforth, Heaven and Earth open wide, and all things take on new life."

The disciples present also immediately bowed.

"Congratulations on entering the Dao, Senior Martial Uncle!"

Xuanming smiled kindly and returned their bows.

"Thank you, junior brothers and martial nephews, for serving as my Guardians."

They could hardly remain standing outside forever, so Xuanming invited his junior brother the abbey master and the elders into the Scripture Pavilion to speak at length.

On the first floor of the Scripture Pavilion, the Daoists took their seats.

Abbey Master Xuanxu spoke first.

"Many sages of old attained greatness late; fear not the frost creeping over your temples."

"You are a great vessel fashioned late, Senior Brother, reaching the Second Realm the moment you entered the Dao. This is truly cause for celebration."

"From this day on, our Truth-Seeking Abbey has another true cultivator of the Dao."

The elders offered another round of congratulations.

Once the pleasantries were over, they came to the matter at hand.

Xuan Yangzi of the Blazing Fire Hall cultivated fire arts. Fiery-tempered, impatient, and blunt, he was the least able to contain himself.

He stood, bowed with his hands clasped, and said:

"What I am about to ask may be somewhat presumptuous. Please accept my apology in advance, Senior Brother."

He had barely finished and had yet to ask his question when the old Daoist Xuanming gently stroked his beard and spoke calmly:

"Do you wish to ask about my method of foundation establishment, Junior Brother?"

At these words, Daoist Xuan Yang's ruddy face grew redder still.

Apologizing once more, he admitted it outright.

"Your insight is keen, Senior Brother. That is indeed what I wished to ask."

"When I saw you break through just now, you actually drew the Lunar Essence and Solar Essence into your body, forging a Superior Dao Foundation."

"It was a magnificent sight, one that filled me with longing for the Divine."

"But our abbey seems to possess Nonbeing such method. Did you glean it from reading the scriptures, Senior Brother, or did Master leave it to you?"

The other Daoists immediately pricked up their ears.

They were equally curious about this question.

They had refrained from asking rashly both because they knew Daoist Xuan Yang's temperament and were certain he would charge ahead, and because Xuan Yang and the abbey master were disciples of the Former Abbot, making them closer to Senior Brother Xuanming.

Sure enough!

As always, Xuan Yang had not disappointed his fellow disciples.

Gently stroking his beard, the old Daoist Xuanming did not answer at once. He looked around, taking in every Daoist's Divine expression.

Though he had spent five years in the Scripture Pavilion without leaving, the pavilion guard's incessant chatter had given him some understanding of the temperaments of these fellow disciples who held the abbey's reins of power.

Abbey Master Xuanxu was upright without being rigid.

Xuan Yu of the Discipline Hall was the fairest of them all.

Xuan Yin of the Spirit Medicine Pavilion had a scheming nature.

Xuan Kong of the Fire Dwelling Hall loved food and gossip.

Xuan Tong of the Dragon Spring Hall danced deftly with long sleeves, adept at navigating social affairs.

Xuan Su of the Jade Maiden Pavilion was fierce and fiercely protective of her own.

Xuan Yang of the Flying Fire Hall was forthright and rash.

From the look of things, Junior Brother Xuan Yang had once again been used as someone else's spear.

Sighing inwardly, Xuanming betrayed nothing on his face. Stroking his beard with a smile, he spoke unhurriedly: