Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood, a Bond Forged Through Eggs

"Changchunzi pays his respects to Senior Uncle."

The second floor of the Scripture Pavilion, Truth-Seeking Abbey.

Changchunzi brought a young Daoist attendant with him and bowed in greeting.

He had studied under Xuanxu for twenty years and was now thirty-five, with gentle features, bright Divine eyes, thick, curved brows, a broad forehead, a high nose, and a meticulously groomed beard.

Steady, shrewd, and capable, he had helped Xuanxu handle many affairs and was regarded throughout the abbey as its next abbot.

By the rules of Truth-Seeking Abbey, the abbot did not need to have the highest cultivation, but he had to be the most capable administrator.

Someone skilled at managing mundane affairs could free the other Daoists to cultivate.

That was very much the Daoist Tradition way!

"No need for such ceremony."

Xuanming waved a hand and told them to rise.

Changchunzi wasted no words. After exchanging a few brief greetings, he instructed the attendant to place two wooden boxes on the desk.

"Senior Uncle, Master said that you have only recently entered the Dao and lack a suitable Dharma Artifact. He specifically sent me to deliver these, hoping they will help you protect yourself and make your Dao Path smooth."

At those words, something stirred in Xuanming's heart.

He understood that Xuanxu was fulfilling yesterday's promise.

"I gratefully accept Junior Brother's kindness. Sorry for the trouble, but please convey my thanks to him."

"I will certainly pass on your words. If there is nothing else, I will take my leave."

Bowing once more, Changchunzi left with the attendant, conducting his business with the swiftness of wind and thunder, without dragging his feet in the slightest.

He truly came in haste and left in haste.

In the Scripture Pavilion, Xuanming did not immediately inspect the boxes.

Amid curling wisps of tea fragrance, he sipped his tea and leafed through scriptures.

Since he was in the scripture repository, studying the texts naturally came first. The contents of the boxes could hardly run away; looking now or later made no difference.

For a sect to endure, its legacy came first.

The foundation of that legacy lay in its scripture repository.

The second floor of the Scripture Pavilion housed precious Daoist scriptures, many of them unique copies, along with several texts on magical techniques.

It was a vital place within Truth-Seeking Abbey.

Only Daoists who had cultivated at least as far as the Hundred-Day Barrier could enter.

Xuanming had chosen to come upstairs because there were fewer people here.

He had no wish to be gawked at like a monkey by the disciples and grand-disciples flooding the first floor, or have his peace disturbed by their deliberate attempts to ingratiate themselves with him.

The second floor was quiet, making it easier to study scriptures and comprehend the Dao.

However, Xuanming did not touch its scriptures—not because he did not want to, but because the time was not yet ripe.

Even a tower ten thousand feet high rose from level ground.

There were eight hundred volumes downstairs, and he had yet to read and fully comprehend them all. He could not reach recklessly beyond his grasp.

With heaven above his head and earth beneath his feet, a man standing between them ought to keep his feet firmly planted, advancing one footprint at a time and laying solid foundations.

Only then could his Dao be steady, his heart at peace, and his roots secure.

As for the scriptures downstairs, the repository's keeper would bring them up. Though the fellow was a gossipy chatterbox, he was reliable.

More precious still, he lived without pretense.

Even before Xuanming entered the Dao, he had shown him genuine respect, asking after his well-being and often hunting game to improve his meals and nourish his body.

Although the fellow always ate the largest share, Xuanming appreciated his kindness. If he became capable enough in the future, he would grant him a fortuitous opportunity to repay the favor.

Reading scriptures, savoring their words, pondering, contemplating...

Before he knew it, the sun was sinking behind the western mountains.

Unlike usual, Xuanming did not stay up late. After finishing his last cup of tea, he closed the scroll and rose.

Daoist Tradition cultivation emphasized both tension and release.

Only with the right balance could one achieve twice the result with half the effort.

Now that he had entered the Dao, he could no longer drive himself as hard as before. He needed to find the proper measure.

Balancing work with rest and haste with patience, reading at sunrise and resting at sunset—that was the Dao.

Overdoing it would produce the opposite result.

He summoned Chang'anzi, the round-bodied repository keeper, and told him to follow with the two wooden boxes. Then Xuanming went downstairs and left the Scripture Pavilion.

Inside the thatched cottage in the Path-Seeking Courtyard.

Chang'anzi was quick-witted. Seeing that it was late and his senior uncle had things to attend to, he left the courtyard on the pretext of preparing supper.

This was another quality Xuanming appreciated in Chang'anzi.

He understood the circumstances and knew when to advance or retreat.

Sitting cross-legged before the desk, Xuanming opened one wooden box. Red and white met his eyes in a striking contrast.

His gaze settled on the red object, and delight spread across his face. "To think it would be this!"

The red object was a wooden rod, about two feet long and only half an inch wide, polished smooth and finely grained.

Faint lightning patterns flickered between its red grain, its Spirit Mechanism gathered inward without the slightest leakage.

It was Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood!

Everyone knew that Daoist Tradition cultivators favored Lightning-Struck Peach Wood, Lightning-Struck Cypress Wood, and similar materials for Dharma Artifacts. Few knew that Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood was the king of artifact materials, a superior form of Thunderstruck Wood.

Better to burn a cartload of ebony than part with Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood.

This wood was an essence born from the harmonious mingling of heaven and earth's Yin and Yang energies, possessing the power to slay demons and vanquish devils, and the ability to command the Divine.

Two hundred years earlier, while traveling the world, Patriarch Qiuzhen Zi had chanced upon a Jujube Tree Demon and formed a bond with the demon, helping them survive a Tribulation Lightning tribulation.

In repayment, the Jujube Tree Demon had given him Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood.

Later, the patriarch established Truth-Seeking Abbey on Floating Cloud Mountain, and the Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood was fashioned into a Dharma Sword that became the token passed down to successive abbots.

After the sword was completed, the patriarch sealed lightning and gathered energy within the short remaining piece, carefully polished it, and used a secret method to collect spiritual power inside it. It was stored in the treasury, to be awarded only for outstanding merit.

Yet for a hundred years, no one had qualified to receive it.

Xuanming had been fortunate enough to see the inherited Dharma Sword only because his father in this life had been the previous abbot.

That was how he had recognized this piece of Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood at a glance.

Three years earlier, the grand elder of Clearwind Abbey had personally come to request it, offering a Profound-Rank Pill Formula in exchange, only to be flatly refused by his junior brother, the abbot.

Now it had been delivered into his hands.

Truly...

"Excellent! Most excellent!"

"My junior brother the abbot certainly knows how to be generous!"

After voicing his feelings, Xuanming accepted it with a clear conscience.

The superior Yin and Yang Foundation Establishment Method was worth far more than Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood. In all of Truth-Seeking Abbey, no one was more entitled to this object than he was.

His gaze shifted to the white object.

Although Xuanming did not recognize it, his thoughtful junior brother had enclosed a small booklet explaining what it was.

A quick read resolved his doubts.

It was Heavenly Silkworm Silk.

It had been spun by a three-hundred-year-old Silkworm Demon.

Impervious to water and fire and exceptionally resilient, it could lengthen or shorten at will.

Though precious, it seemed somewhat ordinary beside the Lightning-Struck Jujube Wood, which was like a pearl among jade.

Still, Xuanming was not displeased.

Materials could influence a Dharma Artifact's power, but ultimately, it came down to the person.

A mountain need not be tall; an Immortal made it renowned.

Water need not be deep; a dragon made it numinous.

Only the wielder's cultivation and depth of attainment in the Great Dao could determine a Dharma Artifact's true strength.

Old age had made Xuanming shrewd, and he saw this clearly.

He opened the other box. Inside lay a piece of Lightning-Struck Peach Wood, larger and of a suitable length, enough to fashion a Peachwood Sword.

"A Fly-Whisk to clear the heart, a Dharma Sword to safeguard the Dao."

"Junior Brother Xuanxu has been thoughtful."

Xuanming stroked his beard, his brows relaxing into a smile.

Truth-Seeking Abbey had no shortage of methods for refining Dharma Artifacts.

Although they were not superior artifact-refining arts, they were more than sufficient for his present needs.

"Senior Uncle, supper is here."

Chang'anzi had excellent timing.

The moment Xuanming put everything away, he came in.

Carrying a meal tray and taking small, quick steps, his round body and plump, smiling face were a cheerful sight.

Inside the cottage, before the desk.

An old man and a young man sat facing each other.

Chang'anzi darted a furtive glance out the window. Seeing that no one was coming, he pulled two things from inside his robe like a thief...

Eggs!

Truth-Seeking Abbey did not prohibit meat.

Ordinarily, there was no reason for them to sneak around eating eggs.

But these eggs were different. Slightly larger than chicken eggs, their shells were lustrous white as jade, without a single blemish.

They had been laid by the Spirit Cranes raised by Junior Brother Xuan Kong and could strengthen one's foundations, nourish vital essence, and purify Magic Power.

For the past five years, Chang'anzi had always managed to snatch food from the tiger's jaws, stealing every month...

Taking two eggs to nourish him.

Chang'anzi's master had died young, leaving him without anyone to protect him.

Xuanming had once advised him not to go again, lest his gluttonous, food-guarding Junior Brother Xuan Kong catch him red-handed and punish him.

The fellow always agreed to his face, then stubbornly refused to mend his ways. He even boasted about his thiev... skills and gossiped about how bad Junior Brother Xuan Kong was at counting.

Seeing that he insisted on doing things his own way, Xuanming let him be and stopped wasting his breath. After all, he was the one enjoying the treats, so he might as well savor them. At worst, once the secret came to light, he would give the fellow a bottle of excellent wound medicine.

"Senior Uncle, eat up."

"They're still warm."

Those two remarks pulled Xuanming from his memories back to the present. Watching Chang'anzi peel an egg for an old man like him before peeling his own, he smiled in gratification.

"Good lad!"

Taking up his chopsticks to savor the egg, Xuanming looked perfectly content.

As for Junior Brother Xuan Kong.

Once or twice might have gone unnoticed.

But how could he not know about eggs being stolen for five straight years?

In the end, Xuan Kong was simply using Chang'anzi to deliver a little warmth to his senior brother.

Chang'anzi was clever and had probably guessed the truth long ago. Like Xuanming, he understood perfectly while pretending otherwise.

After all, they could hardly let Junior Brother Xuan Kong's kindness go to waste.

These eggs could count as their performance fee.

Sacrificing himself for the benefit of his fellow disciples.

Junior Brother Xuan Kong's merit was boundless.

The rear mountain of Firecloud Peak.

Easygoing, stout, and honest-faced, Daoist Xuankong sprawled on a bluestone, looking remarkably like True Person Taiyi from the Nezha film about the demon child in Xuanming's previous life. Remembering the two Spirit Eggs Chang'anzi had made off with, he gulped down a mouthful of wine.

Then, recalling the hundred-odd eggs taken over the past five years, he clutched his chest and kept drinking in heartache.

Gulp, gulp!

After several more swigs, Daoist Xuankong told the Spirit Crane beside him, "The last time! This is absolutely the last time!"

"Senior Brother has already entered the Dao. With the Heaven and Earth’s Spiritual Mechanism nourishing him, it's time to cut off these Spirit Eggs."

At his words, the several Spirit Cranes beside him rolled their eyes in unison, utterly speechless. Each turned away, raised their rump, and fluttered off, making their feelings clear.

A world in which only Daoist Xuankong suffered had come to pass.