Seeing the vicious Bench Demon come bounding toward him, Xing Yan refused to sit and wait for death. He immediately darted aside.
He was already remarkably agile. As the Bench Demon lunged at him, he could still leap and scramble through the reception hall, dodging left and right. His spiritual awareness had also grown exceptionally sensitive. As he fled, it was as though eyes had sprouted beneath his feet: he managed to avoid every injured servant lying on the floor, sparing those unfortunate men any further suffering. Now, through the old Daoist Qinghe's somewhat blurred eyes, all that could be seen was a figure flashing swiftly back and forth.
Yet however swiftly Xing Yan fled, human strength still fell short of demonic power for the moment. Even at his speed, the Bench Demon caught him within moments. Everyone on the floor heard a thump, and the Bench Demon slammed viciously into Xing Yan's waist. Although his running gave him some momentum to cushion the impact, the waist was a vulnerable part of the body. Being struck there by an iron-hard lump of elm was no small ordeal. Pain twisted his face, his feet stumbled, and the blow sent him flying toward a red-lacquered pillar. He hit it with a thud, then slowly crumpled to the floor.
His waist now felt as though it had just been scorched by a raging fire, burning with fierce pain. Pain was all he could feel throughout his body; he could not muster the slightest strength. He could not even stand, much less dodge left and right.
If only this Bench Demon had a little sense and would stop kicking once it saw I was hurt, and spare my life...
Xing Yan could only pray over and over in his heart.
All he could hope was that the monster would not wipe him out completely and would leave him a way to survive. According to certain tales of the supernatural, that possibility seemed fairly likely.
Unfortunately, the tireless Bench Demon knew nothing of showing mercy when mercy could be shown. That wooden head truly knew only how to attack without stopping. Before long, the boy slumped against the foot of the red-lacquered pillar helplessly watched the Bench Demon, fresh from its successful attack, shuffle backward on its four alternating legs. It stopped, crouched, then sprang forward, hurtling toward him again before his despairing eyes!
Ah, this monster really means to finish me off...
Every hope turned to ashes within Xing Yan. The creature gave him no time to think; in an instant, it was only a step away! He watched disaster approach, utterly powerless to stop it...
Just as Xing Yan thought there was no escaping his doom, a familiar change quietly arose within his pain-racked body. When he relaxed his mind and merely waited for the evil demon to attack, the "Flowing Water" that had appeared within him only twice before quietly emerged again at this desperate moment, like mist rising on a silent night! With all his hopes reduced to ashes, that gently streaming sensation suddenly welled up from the countless pores all over his body. He could not say where it came from or where it went; it simply circulated throughout his body, rising, falling, rippling...
Thus, had anyone possessed eyesight keen enough to distinguish the changes in that lightning-swift instant, they would have witnessed an extraordinarily strange scene:
The Bench Demon charged at the boy with incredible speed, but the instant it touched his body, it suddenly began vibrating involuntarily at some particular frequency, slowing from fast to slow, then from slow to still... In the blink of an eye, the ferocious Bench Demon had come to a complete halt in front of him.
In truth, no one could see this transformation clearly, for it all occurred in an infinitesimal instant. The old Daoist Qinghe, who strained to keep his eyes open and stared unblinkingly at the Bench Demon's attack, saw only the menacing creature rush toward the boy like a thunderbolt, then abruptly stop dead upon touching Xing Yan's body-
At the sight, the old Daoist instinctively heaved a heartfelt sigh:
"Ah! To think this monster has such perfect control over its strength, unleashing and withdrawing it at will. Losing to it today was no injustice!"
At this point in his lament, the old Daoist seemed to remember something and immediately grew angry:
"Cough, cough! This demon is far too wicked! Why did it only unleash its strength and never withdraw it when it hit me?! Ow!"
As he grumbled indignantly, he accidentally aggravated the injury to his chest again.
Meanwhile, Xing Yan had closed his eyes and awaited death. Although he felt that Flowing Water reappear within him, he still had no time to react. Words could describe it at leisure, but in reality, the interval between the strange change in his body and the monster striking him was no longer than a blink. He had already braced himself mentally, and the moment he felt something touch him, he cried out, "Aaah!"
"It hurts so-"
Before he could get out the last word, Xing Yan suddenly realized something was wrong. Why did he feel no pain at all? On the contrary, his whole body felt faintly numb and tingly!
Sensing something amiss, Xing Yan hurriedly opened his eyes. The formerly menacing Bench Demon was now pressed against him, motionless, like a puppy clinging to him and refusing to get off.
How strange! Could this Bench Demon have known me before and decided to show mercy?
Xing Yan could not make sense of the strange sight, no matter how he pondered it. But whatever the reason, this calamity that had fallen from the sky had inexplicably dissolved just as it was about to strike.
Huh? Why is it here again?
Only after a jumble of wild thoughts did Xing Yan suddenly notice the smoothly circulating Flowing Water within him. Strangely, he felt its ripples quickening throughout his body. What had begun as a thin, gentle stream was slowly swelling, little by little.
While Xing Yan wondered about this current, now appearing for the third time, he saw that the Bench Demon pressed against him was also slowly undergoing a strange transformation:
The bright crimson of its reddened body was gradually fading, returning little by little to white. Unlike its original lustrous, softly glowing whiteness, however, the elm Bench Demon was now turning deathly pale, as though a gloomy aura of death hung over it.
After its previous appearances on Horseshoe Mountain and in Poyang Lake, Xing Yan had grown fond of this mysterious Flowing Water within his body, this feeling at once rushing and tranquil, overflowing and harmonious. Unfortunately, as the last crimson thread faded from the Bench Demon, the wondrous Flowing Water within him also gradually vanished without a trace, like a spring returning to a mountain ravine. However unwilling its host was to let it go, he could no longer grasp the slightest sign of it.
The Flowing Water receded, leaving Xing Yan disappointed. Then he suddenly noticed that the deathly pale elm bench was still rubbing against him. The sight of that ghastly color instantly raised goosebumps all over him, and almost instinctively, he swung a fist to knock it away...
Crash!
To Xing Yan's astonishment, the elm Bench Demon, formerly as hard as iron and incomparably tough, was sent flying by that casual punch and struck the nearby wall sideways. When it fell to the floor, a web of cracks appeared all over its body, slowly splitting open. As the cracks multiplied and widened, the elm Bench Demon that had just been charging about with boundless strength suddenly shattered with a clatter into countless wooden fragments before Xing Yan's eyes, scattering across the floor.
At this strange sight, everyone else in the reception hall stopped groaning and stared blankly at the boy, their eyes full of disbelief.
Though the process of subduing the Bench Demon was rather inexplicable, the problem had at least been resolved. What came next was precisely the old Daoist Qinghe's specialty, a road he knew well.
Master Zhu had taken plenty of painful tumbles along the way, but seeing this grave menace to his household finally resolved felt like parting the clouds to reveal a bright moon. He immediately thanked heaven and earth and treated both the old Daoist and Xing Yan with boundless warmth.
Yet for all his attentiveness, Qinghe had just endured this treacherous banquet and been left in such a sorry state, his chest aching terribly. His embarrassment inevitably turned to anger. Once the danger had passed, he steadied himself and began settling accounts, gesticulating as he reproached Master Zhu for failing to tell him the truth sooner. The old Daoist blustered:
"Benefactor Zhu, had I known you were inviting me here to subdue a wooden bench demon, I would certainly have brought suitable magical treasures, such as the Mountain-Splitting Saber or the Demon-Subduing Axe. What would a paltry little demon like this amount to then? I would have chopped it into firewood long ago!"
After a round of boasting, the old Daoist began putting on airs again and scolded Xing Yan:
"Cough, cough. Young people are so impatient! Who told you to smash the Bench Demon so quickly? If you had let me use that opening to work my arts and subdue it as an attendant, that would have been quite nice. Ho ho! Whenever I went out, it could follow along behind me, and whenever I grew tired, I could sit on it and rest. How convenient!"
Xing Yan found the old Daoist's bluster enormously amusing, but as always, he let nothing unusual show on his face. Master Zhu, meanwhile, was genuinely frightened and humbled. Hearing the old Daoist's reproaches, he knew his conduct had been less than honorable and apologized repeatedly. Then, with excellent judgment, he presented a tray of gold and silver to express his tearful gratitude.
Though old Qinghe truly was somewhat indignant, the sight of gold and silver immediately shut his mouth. Indeed, that was precisely the effect his performance had been intended to produce. Since the host had obligingly brought out the money, he stopped nagging and accepted without ceremony the yellow brocade purse Master Zhu had tied up himself. Then he put on a solemn expression and earnestly admonished Master Zhu:
"Benefactor Zhu, what I said at the beginning-that demons arise from the heart-was not mistaken. A troubled heart scatters the spirit, and a scattered spirit gives strange evils their chance. A tranquil heart keeps the spirit whole, and when the spirit is whole, Baleful Qi cannot assail it. I still say the same thing: crooked thoughts give birth to demons. I have heard something of your affairs, Master Zhu. When conducting your rice business in the future, you should be more scrupulous!"
At this point, he added to the shamefaced Master Zhu:
"And in the future, you must also mind how you educate your son!"
Having witnessed the master and disciple's genuine ability to subdue demons and smash that troublesome monster to pieces, Master Zhu now regarded the old Daoist's words as an imperial decree or an immortal's voice. How could he dare disobey?
After this bitter lesson, recalling his unscrupulous practice of taking rice in with a large measure and selling it out with a small one made Master Zhu break into a cold sweat. This terrifying experience proved more effective than any sermon. From then on, he thoroughly mended his ways and began accumulating virtue through good deeds. Every season, the Zhu Family Rice Shop regularly opened porridge stalls several times to aid the poor in town and countryside. These actions earned him a reputation as a "benevolent man," and his rice business flourished even more than before. Thereafter, not only the poor but even the lofty local gentry praised him and made a point of patronizing his shop. Whether this truly was goodness rewarded, his son Zhu Wencai, formerly so often scolded as a blockhead, later did achieve success in his studies and became a Confucian scholar of considerable renown in the Poyang region. Nor did young Xing Yan's hard labor go unrewarded. From then on, whenever Old Zhang came to the Zhu Family Rice Shop to buy rice, Master Zhu, though never saying so openly, had secretly instructed the counter clerks to give him a little extra each time.
Perhaps it was because, in the days before the Bench Demon was subdued, the elm creature had tormented everyone in the Zhu Residence beyond endurance, leaving the entire family, young and old, on tenterhooks all day. Now that the master and disciple had removed this great anxiety, how could Master Zhu, the head of the household, not be overjoyed? He immediately tried every means to persuade the old Daoist and Xing Yan to stay, insisting that he would prepare another banquet for them!
But after their recent fright, the old man and the boy were like birds startled by a bowstring. Both felt the Zhu Residence was a place of trouble where they should not linger. At the mere mention of a "banquet," Qinghe firmly declined, terrified that another meal might produce some new horror. Thus, the old Daoist and the boy spoke in unison, resolutely insisting on leaving. Unable to persuade them despite all his efforts, Master Zhu had to give up and led his entire family in warmly escorting them all the way outside the main gate.
Back on the street, beneath the blue sky and broad daylight once more, the two immediately felt as though they had been granted a second life. Today, the noisy townspeople coming and going before them seemed especially dear and lovable!
Once they rounded a street corner, Xing Yan saw Qinghe, who had been walking quite normally all along, suddenly sag against a nearby earthen wall. His solemn, dignified face immediately twisted into a grimace. The old Daoist cried out:
"Ahhh! It hurts to death! Xing Yan, hurry and have a look for me! Have I broken four or five ribs?"
"Uh... So you were enduring the pain all along! From the way you looked, I thought nothing was wrong. I was wondering-if even I was hurt so badly by the Bench Demon, with those old bones of yours-"
Before the boy could finish teasing him, the old Daoist cut him off:
"Cough, cough, you little brat! You still have the heart to trade barbs with me at a time like this? Ow, ow! Hurry and look! I'm afraid my ribs really are broken!"
"All right, let me see!"
Though Xing Yan said this, he remained where he stood. He merely glanced casually over the old Daoist's body and said:
"Mm! I've looked. Your ribs aren't broken."
"Ah, really? Who knew you little brat had so many peculiar tricks? You could tell with a single glance."
The old Daoist solemnly praised the boy's abilities.
"...Stop pretending! If your ribs really were broken, could you have walked here so easily? If you want me to support you or carry you back, just say so!" The boy saw straight through his little scheme.
"Cough, cough. I knew I hadn't misjudged you, Xing Yan. You truly are considerate. I can't move another step, and was just hoping to trouble your esteemed back..."
"All right, all right! You just want me to carry you! Why make it sound like some turtle's back? Honestly!"
Bickering aside, Xing Yan helped the old Daoist onto his back as they spoke and staggered toward the Good Karma Office with him. As he walked, Xing Yan said:
"Listen, old man, hold on tight! Those bones of yours won't survive another fall. Huh? Why are you holding my shoulder with only one hand?"
"Boy, you don't understand. My other hand has something more important to do!"
"What?"
"Hold tight to the purse Master Zhu gave us!"
"...You really are a money-grubber. Don't say I didn't warn you: if you lose your grip and fall again, you really will break a few ribs!"
"No fear! My ribs may break, but the purse must not be lost!"
His tone was firm enough to cleave nails and cut iron. Clearly, this old Daoist of Shangqing Palace held unwavering convictions.
After carrying him for a while, Xing Yan felt a lingering ache in his waist and involuntarily recalled the terrifying ordeal at the Zhu Residence not long before. Soon, he could not help breaking the silence again:
"Say, old Daoist, that ben...ch just now-tell me, how can there really be demons in this world?"
Clearly, Xing Yan was still shaken.
"Uh, well..."
This time, the old Daoist did not tease Xing Yan for being timid. Instead, he spoke to him quite seriously:
"Xing Yan, there are many more strange things in this world. We simply haven't encountered them. Even if we haven't seen them with our own eyes, we must not lightly deny the existence of things that seem absurd and incredible."
"Take the local autumn insects whose lives last only a summer. Clearly, they do not know that winter snow also exists in this world. If someone used supreme magical power to create a snowflake for them to see, they would find it extraordinarily strange. As the saying goes, what reason declares impossible may nevertheless occur. In truth, its apparent lack of reason merely means that we mortals do not understand it. If something exists in this world, there must be a principle behind it. When we do not understand a phenomenon, often we simply do not understand its principle. We who cultivate the Dao diligently pursue these unknown phenomena and principles, also called the Heavenly Way. Those seemingly miraculous Daoist arts and methods, by contrast, are often merely lesser pursuits."
Seeing Xing Yan listen in rapt silence, the old Daoist grew even more eager to talk and continued:
"Xing Yan, take that wooden bench becoming a demon just now. It was not beyond reason either. Any object that endures for many years may absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth day after day and eventually become a demon. Or an object within a household may become a demon after receiving enough human vital essence. The principle is easy to understand and nothing to marvel at. That elm bench in the Zhu Residence likely belonged to the latter kind."
The old Daoist's words differed utterly from Old Scholar Ji's teachings at the Ji Family School, yet every sentence sounded reasonable. Xing Yan listened as though enchanted.
As he savored the old Daoist's words, Xing Yan kept feeling that something was strange, but he could not recall exactly where the problem lay. He could only lower his head and continue trudging onward. After another spell of silence, he suddenly shouted:
"Old Daoist!"
The unexpected yell startled Qinghe, who had been lounging comfortably on the boy's back.
"What now?"
The startled old Daoist asked irritably.
"Tell me, Daoist Master Qinghe, are you really just an errand runner sent out by Shangqing Palace?"
Xing Yan did not sound as though he was joking. He spoke very seriously, almost word by word.
"Uh... Hmph, hmph!"
"You little brat! How many times must I tell you?! Of course I'm not some errand runner. I am an adept of Shangqing Palace, here to cultivate amid the mortal world. Look how skillfully I perform Fuji Divination, tell fortunes, obtain sacred water, and conduct House-Cleansing for people! How profound my Daoist arts are!"
The old Daoist seemed to have suffered an enormous injustice, his beard bristling and his eyes glaring.
"Really?"
The boy challenged him, still full of doubt.
"Of course! I deceive neither young nor old, and say things exactly as they are!"
The old Daoist spoke with perfect conviction, without blushing or so much as a flutter of his heart.
"Hmph, hmph!"
Seeing the old Daoist continue his mystical blather, Xing Yan became thoroughly annoyed and stopped speaking to him.
The old man and the boy continued on in silence, heads lowered. After turning through two more streets, they reached the entrance to the old Daoist's Good Karma Office. Back on his own ground, Qinghe clumsily climbed down from Xing Yan's back and let out a long breath:
"Whew! Finally back again! We truly escaped death this time. I'm never doing anything so frightening again!"
"Mm! I must rest for at least a year!... Half a year? Fine! Half a month! I must recuperate properly for these two weeks. Ho!"
At this moment, the old Daoist's eyes gleamed as he stared fixedly at the purse. Clearly, it was that brilliantly golden yellow brocade purse that kept shortening his period of recuperation.
"Here, this half is yours!"
It was time to divide the spoils again, and this time the old Daoist was quite generous.
"Huh? Didn't we agree on thirty-seventy?"
Clearly, the boy had grown accustomed to being exploited by the old Daoist. The old Daoist, however, answered with perfect assurance:
"Ha! What are you saying? I'm a reasonable man too. I have to perform in front of people, and that takes skill, so naturally I should get the larger share! This time is no different!... Uh, an oversight on my part. It seems it was thanks to you that we escaped disaster this time!"
By now, however, Xing Yan had forgotten to answer. Gazing at the first substantial sum he had ever earned in his life, he could do nothing but let his eyes shine!
After his eyes had lit up at the sight of money, something else seemed to occur to him, and their radiance suddenly dimmed. Carefully tucking the money into his robes, Xing Yan told Qinghe with a solemn face:
"Listen, old Qinghe, don't come looking for me the next time something like this happens. Who knew an errand to earn a little pocket money could put my life at risk!"
Clearly, Xing Yan was still far from attaining the old Daoist's willingness to die for money.
"Cough, cough... Say, Xing Yan, you're still a young fellow, a newborn calf unafraid of tigers. How can you fall short of a decrepit old man like me?"
The old Daoist was employing an art outside his own sect-the Provocation Tactic. But the boy retorted:
"Yes, yes, I'm timid, not as brave as you. Whatever you say, I'm not doing this again. I still need to keep my life so I can support my parents in their old age."
"Uh... Since you put it that way, Xing Yan, I won't force you. But I have always been not only a man of my word, but also one who repays kindness. As for today's affair at the Zhu Residence, Xing Yan, you could truly be called my lifesaving benefactor-"
Here, the old Daoist stopped and muttered a few unintelligible words. He seemed to have made some momentous resolution, his face grave and solemn. From his bearing, it was as though the usually jovial old Daoist had endured a painful inward struggle and finally reached a decision of life-and-death importance. Xing Yan, however, now greeted such theatrics with nothing but scorn:
"Hey, old Daoist, don't try that routine again! Once fooled by a gentleman selling sweets, I'll never trust a honeyed tongue again. Even if your tongue blossoms with lotuses today, I simply won't believe you!"
Yet faced with the boy's mockery, the old Daoist reacted somewhat unusually this time. Not only did he ignore Xing Yan, but he also gazed quietly at the southern sky for a while. After a long silence, Qinghe gave a deep sigh in the bleak autumn wind:
"As for this matter, those who understand me say my heart is troubled; those who do not ask what I seek... Enough, enough! Since you saved me today, I shall make an exception this once and pass on to you my sect's supreme treasured scripture-"
"Hm?!"
The boy had been hardening his heart to iron, but upon suddenly hearing that the old Daoist meant to give him Shangqing Palace's treasured scripture, Xing Yan's heart leaped into his throat. He pricked up his ears to hear what came next. The old Daoist Qinghe of Shangqing Palace said:
"Today, I, Qinghe, shall pass on to you, Zhang Xingyan, the treasured scripture of Shangqing Palace-the Upper Clarity Scripture!"
As the old Daoist's ringing words echoed, a white cloud drifted past and swiftly obscured half the sun. And so the brilliant world before them seemed suddenly to dim!
Before you continue