After that little disturbance, it was not long before Zhenyang County's altar for recruiting worthy men to summon rain formally opened.
Since the matter concerned both the people's livelihood and spirits and gods, Peng Xiangpu, the magistrate of Zhenyang County and a lifelong reader of the sages' poetry and writings, did not mount the platform to deliver a formal opening address. He merely rose, bowed, and invited the first master up to pray for rain.
When the first adept ascended the high altar with his sleeves fluttering and began rearranging the rain-summoning Gang Dippers according to his school's secret art, the chatter among the spectators below quickly died away. In moments, the vast stretch of open ground before the Dragon King Temple fell utterly silent, and every gaze turned toward the high platform.
Like everyone else, Xing Yan stared intently at the altar, watching the Daoist master in his tall cap and broad sash go about his work with unhurried precision. Before long, this wandering Daoist who had answered the summons began moving back and forth through the positions of the Nine Palaces and Seven Luminaries. As he stepped, he also began chanting scriptures and spells to summon rain.
While the master on the altar chanted in rising and falling cadences, the officials, commoners, and scholars watching scarcely dared breathe, afraid that some stray noise might disrupt his mysterious incantation.
They continued holding their breath in rapt attention until the Daoist came down from the platform.
He failed.
Seeing him return to his seat red-faced and without a word, Xing Yan knew that the attempt to summon rain had failed.
It seemed that coaxing a little rain from Heaven was no easy matter.
Much the same happened with the next four or five adepts who went up. Whether they used