The Monk Meets the Cicada

"My resolve will not change, my resolve will not change..."

Li Fuchan murmured the words of Fei Yiming's final letter and tipped the twelve coins out of the cloth pouch. Traces of rust had already appeared on them. Through that rust, he seemed to glimpse the heart of the man who had once sought the Dao, now mottled and worn.

"To cultivate oneself into utter purity is merely to turn oneself into a beast with no parents, no brothers, no wife or children. Some people are born that way. When Fei Yiming was trapped in the Demon Cave, on the brink of death, he never once thought of the mother waiting in anguish at the Ning Household. That alone tells the tale."

The words were flat and bland. It was impossible to tell whether they were a lament, a sneer, or merely a passing remark.

He did not spend much thought on the matter either. While he still had a little leisure, he took out the copy of A Plea for Thirty-Six Years of Romantic Tales he was compiling and recorded a few selected details of what he had just seen.

Once everything was done, he set down his brush and began to consider his way out.

His thoughts turned as he sorted through them, layer by layer:

With the Infant Pill in hand, I need not worry about finding a treasure to replenish my Life Force root in the future. Reaching Outer Scenery Great Accomplishment will be almost as natural as water flowing into a channel.

The cultivation method Jia Hua passed down that day contained no method for cultivating Inner Vision, but fortunately, I have already decided to switch to another art.

Cultivating the Gold-Gathering Secret Origin Art to its deeper stages will refine my own body into a spiritual substance. That is a hidden danger. But now that I have obtained the spiritual substance, wandering gold, formed from Fei Yiming's body, I no longer need to worry about refining myself into an ingredient while cultivating the Gold-Gathering Secret Origin Art.

He leaned against the cellar's damp, cold earthen wall, lightly tapping his knee with his fingertips.

Once the matter of the Wisdom King's journey north is settled, I can set out for the South of the Yangtze. By then, whether cultivating or dealing with the possible fatal tribulation hanging over my head, I will have far more room to maneuver.

Li Fuchan's eyes were half closed as he regulated his breathing when a sudden clamor arose outside the cellar. At first, it was indistinct, as though heard through a layer of water, but gradually it grew clearer.

They were human footsteps, hurried and jumbled, interspersed with cheers and cries rising one after another.

"Uncle Wang and the others are back! Uncle Wang and the others came back alive!"

The voice was shrill, with the bright ring peculiar to a young boy, shouting all the way from the village entrance into the village.

A confused uproar followed at once. Doors opened and shut, women gasped, and children cried, all mingling together. Li Fuchan opened his eyes but did not rise, merely tilting his head to listen for a moment.

Then he heard someone in the crowd say in a trembling voice, "Back? They were sent off for the demons to eat. How could they come back? Could the demons have such enormous appetites that eating them wasn't enough, so they followed the scent back here to us?"

At these words, the cheers around them immediately dwindled.

Someone hurriedly explained, "No, no! It was an immortal. An immortal saved them and brought them back."

An aged voice suddenly rose from a corner, anxious and furious. Slapping his thigh, the old man said, "An immortal? What sort of immortal is that? He's a villain, a fiend, a devil!"

The old man seemed to be trembling all over with anger, his voice cracking. "He snatched food from the demons' mouths. How could they let that go? He's an immortal, so it's all very well for him. He thinks he's done a good deed and earned some merit, then dusts off his backside and leaves. But he's brought misery down on us! We've lived here for generations. The monk may run, but the temple cannot. When the demons come knocking, won't they eat every last one of us?"

The words came fast and urgently, as though a fear bottled up for a long time had finally found an outlet and poured out all at once. Everything around him fell quiet for a moment, leaving only the old man's ragged panting.

The young man who had returned with the news seemed angered too, and retorted in a stiff voice, "The immortal said he already killed the demons."

"He says he killed them, so they're dead?" The old man grew still more incredulous, raising his voice further. "It's all just words from his mouth! Even if he really did kill them, won't there be other demons who send us off to fill their bellies?"

The messenger had clearly lost his patience as well. With irritation in his voice, he tossed out, "Believe it or don't. We're going to welcome the immortal anyway."

His footsteps thudded away. Presumably, he had left without looking back.

"There are actually immortal cultivators in the Southern Border who meddle this much?"

Li Fuchan was not normally one to join a commotion, yet for some reason, a sliver of curiosity stirred in his heart. He wanted to go and take a look.

Indeed, I've been so busy lately that my feet have barely touched the ground. What harm is there in joining a little excitement? They're all mortals. Surely they can't hurt me.

As this thought passed through his mind, his body had already moved ahead of it.

The thought was hazy and indistinct, as though veiled behind a thin gauze. Without realizing it, his hand pushed open the cellar's dilapidated wooden door, and he bent down to climb out.

His steps were unsteady, as though he were walking in a dream.

The old man lingering nearby had still been muttering curses. When he suddenly turned and saw that black-clad figure emerge soundlessly from the cellar, his soul nearly fled beyond the heavens. His legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees, banging his forehead against the ground again and again while pleading for his life.

He had presumably mistaken Li Fuchan for the immortal everyone had just been discussing, and thought all his wretched remarks outside the cellar had been overheard—that the immortal had come to punish him.

Li Fuchan did not so much as glance at him. He merely walked with awkward, mincing steps, swaying toward the village entrance.

From afar, he saw the villagers gathered in a crowd.

Some held their heads and wept bitterly; others knelt prostrate on the ground. Old people wiped away tears, and women clutched their husbands' sleeves, refusing to let go. The rescued young men were surrounded on all sides, laughing and crying amid the chaotic uproar.

Li Fuchan took a few more steps forward, looking past the crowd toward the center of the commotion.

At that very moment.

Something jolted violently in his qi sea.

Light-Deceiving appeared without being summoned, shooting out from the depths of his qi sea like a snake whose tail had been stepped on, and darted violently through his meridians.

A flash of lightning burst from his body without warning. With a sharp crackle, a gold-and-crimson arc leaped onto his shoulder and vanished in an instant.

The haze in Li Fuchan's eyes was shattered at once. His pupils contracted sharply, cold sweat sprang down his back, and his entire body froze where he stood. He could not move a single finger.

Damn it! Why did I come out?

Just then, the crowd ahead suddenly parted to either side.

A man stepped out through the crowd, wrapped in plain white clothing that concealed his figure and features completely. A bamboo hat was pulled down low over his head, hiding almost all his face. Only a pair of round, jet-black eyes showed beneath its brim.

"It has been a long time since we parted at the Lake. Now we meet again, but under such circumstances. You were truly too cautious, fellow Daoist. This humble monk searched for you for so long, and only with great difficulty found your trail. Fearing you might escape again, I had no choice but to use a few means to lure you out. Please do not take offense, fellow Daoist."

Li Fuchan looked at the monk, not daring to utter a word.

The monk suddenly bowed and said earnestly, "I, Huici, have come to ask only one thing. Fellow Daoist, please help me."