Volume Three: Dream of Three Lifetimes Beneath the Moon - Ten Years Spent Casually Honing a Sword

After unexpectedly acquiring this "treasured sword," young Xing Yan eagerly dipped it in water and began polishing it, hoping to make it bright and handsome enough to fetch a good price at the pawnshop.

What puzzled him was that, after all that polishing, he had only rubbed away the mud and grass stains clinging to the blade. Its dull, grayish-black surface showed no obvious change at all.

He polished it a little longer, then decided to give up when he saw no improvement. He had found it for nothing, after all; pawning it for a few coins would do. Still, the sword did look rather ancient and unadorned. Perhaps it was a valuable antique. If he took it to Greenfly House that afternoon and let old Appraiser Zhang examine it, he might get lucky and receive a tael or two of silver.

So the boy straightened up, fetched a dry piece of hemp cloth from the house, and carefully wiped the dripping blade clean. After rummaging indoors again, he found a scrap of old sackcloth just large enough to wrap around the sword. He wound a few loops of straw rope tightly around it, then casually leaned it against the earthen wall beside the door.

With that finished, Xing Yan went to a stone clearing not far from their thatched cottage to help his mother turn the few cured hides they had saved, airing them in the sun. They had used little saltpeter in curing the hides at home; without regular airing, moths would almost certainly eat holes in them. Once that happened, an entire hide would have to be sold for next to nothing.

After working for a while and then staring blankly at his jade flute, Divine Snow, for another while, it was time for lunch.

Since Xing Yan seldom came home now, his mother cut a piece from the pine-smoked muntjac meat hanging on the wall and sliced it thinly for him to eat with his meal.

These muntjacs were alert and swift, bounding among the steep, jagged mountain rocks as though crossing level ground. The mountain folk outside Raozhou City therefore called them "mountain goats." Unless one used baited poison or buried traps, these "mountain goats" were not easy to catch.

After eating, Xing Yan said goodbye to his mother and eagerly set off for Raozhou City.

His father, Old Zhang, had gone hunting in a nearby ravine early that morning. Before Xing Yan had traveled far, he spotted his father in a deep gully beside the mountain path, a hunting bow slung across his back, and shouted to him. Hearing his son call, Old Zhang turned, smiled, and waved before heading back into the brush.

By the time Xing Yan reached Raozhou City, the sun had already edged westward. Without daring to delay, he hurried toward Greenfly House, the city's only pawnshop.

Ordinarily, a pawnshop's sign would end with the word "Pawnshop." But Greenfly House's owner, Shopkeeper Zhang, admired the refinement of the gentry and had hit upon the novel idea of ending his shop's name with "House." To be honest, Xing Yan felt that "Greenfly" and "House" made a rather ill-matched pair.

Still, Raozhou City was not very large, and his was its only pawnshop. After using the name for so many years, everyone had grown accustomed to it. If Appraiser Zhang suddenly took it into his head to change the name back to "Greenfly Pawnshop," people might actually find that awkward.

The proprietor of Greenfly House had his peculiarities, too. By nature, he trusted no one but himself. He feared that any appraiser he hired might overvalue a pledge, which would hurt as badly as having flesh carved from his body. After hiring outsiders once or twice and spending every day plagued by suspicion, unable to sit or sleep in peace, he took the counter himself and became his own appraiser. In time, everyone simply called him "Appraiser Zhang."

Xing Yan of the Zhang family was no stranger to Appraiser Zhang. Seeing the young fellow arrive with another bundle slung across his back, the appraiser greeted him with smiling eyes:

"Young Zhang, what wild game have you brought to pawn today?"

Whenever Xing Yan's father had live game he could not sell after several days, Xing Yan would bring it to Greenfly House and pawn it for a mere eight or nine copper coins. Keeping the creatures at home would only waste grain, an expense their modest household could not afford. Appraiser Zhang happened to relish fresh mountain game, but hated parting with his money. The two sides thus hit it off perfectly, and he always waited eagerly for young Xing Yan to come "pawning" game. Whether he secretly prayed that Xing Yan's father would fail to sell his catches was something no outsider could know.

At the appraiser's question, Xing Yan quickly removed the cloth-wrapped bundle from his back as though presenting a treasure, laid it carefully on the counter, and boasted:

"Appraiser Zhang, I haven't come to pawn game today. Yesterday, up on our Horseshoe Mountain, I happened to dig up this treasure, so I've brought it to pawn! Uh-don't start frowning yet! It's an antique!"

As he spoke, Xing Yan solemnly began undoing the cloth wrapping. While untying it, he also recounted the familiar legend of the heavenly horse's hoofprint on Horseshoe Mountain, to prove that something unearthed there was very likely a precious antique!

Appraiser Zhang had been rather disappointed to hear that Xing Yan had brought no game. But the boy's extravagant praise soon aroused his interest. Old man and boy, customers and assistants alike, all stared intently at the slowly opening bundle, eager to see just what this supposed antique might be.

At last, under everyone's expectant gaze, the ragged cloth was pulled completely open, revealing the treasure inside-

"Huh?!" The instant Xing Yan saw what lay inside the wrapping, his boasting stopped dead, replaced by a startled cry from the depths of his heart!

The ancient-looking treasured sword that had been wrapped inside had somehow become a thoroughly rusted strip of scrap iron!

"Hahahaha!" When the expectant onlookers finally saw this appallingly corroded, pitiful strip of iron, thunderous laughter erupted!

"Ahem-cough! Young Xing Yan, don't tease me! This antique of yours-cough, cough-it certainly is ancient! But as for being a treasure, cough, cough, it's still a long way off! Ha! Ha!"

These breathless words came from old Zhang, who was now laughing so hard he could barely breathe. A seasoned pawnshop appraiser indeed: even in the throes of "supreme bliss," he did not forget to give his customer an objective, impartial valuation.

"Young Zhang, I suggest you take this ancient iron strip home and use it to poke the stove. You won't get a single copper for it here!"

It seemed the old fellow had not the slightest regard for all the cheap game Xing Yan had pawned here in the past.

"Uh-ahem..." His face crimson, Xing Yan could scarcely get his words out. "Well, Appraiser Zhang, couldn't you give me just a few coins for it? It-it really was a treasured sword before! I don't know how it suddenly turned into a rusty iron strip!"

"Hahahaha!" His muddled explanation drew another burst of laughter from the spectators.

"Off you go, young fellow! Next time, bring some fresh game to pawn instead of making a fool of an old man like me. I nearly split my sides laughing just now! Pack up that iron strip, and take care!"

"Next!"

Hearing Appraiser Zhang draw out that final call, the utterly bewildered Xing Yan knew nothing could be done today. He hastily wrapped the rusty iron and fled amid the roomful of jeers.

On his way to Flower Moon House, the humiliated boy's head swarmed with doubts:

How-how could this happen? Could it have rusted this afternoon because I got it wet while polishing it this morning?

No! I wiped it clean afterward. Besides, even if I hadn't dried it properly, it couldn't possibly rust that badly in a single afternoon! Xing Yan immediately rejected the idea.

Right! Something seemed to occur to him. However badly it rusted, a sword shouldn't turn into a strip of scrap iron!

Could someone have secretly switched it?

Although he had noticed nothing unusual along the road, after turning it over and over in his mind, that seemed the only explanation that made sense.

At this thought, the suspicious Xing Yan could not help stopping and opening the cloth bundle in his hands again. He wanted to see whether the scrap iron had any use left. If it was utterly useless, he might as well throw it away now rather than keep carrying something so heavy-

"Ah!"

One look left Xing Yan rooted to the spot like a wooden chicken!

Little wonder he was so shocked after opening the bundle. Lying inside was unmistakably the old iron sword he had spent so long polishing that morning!

At that moment, this unremarkable old sword shocked the boy more than any divine weapon in the world could have. As though struck by lightning, Xing Yan stood frozen, unaware even that the sackcloth had slipped from his hands to the ground.

"How strange! How strange!" Only after a long daze did he gradually recover, exclaiming again and again.

Could I have picked up the wrong bundle in my panic?

No, no! I clearly remember that there was nothing else on the counter except that inexplicable strip of scrap iron. His memory was good, and he immediately dismissed that possibility.

Or perhaps the thief who switched it realized afterward that he'd made a losing bargain and regretted it-then switched his iron strip back while I wasn't looking? Desperate to explain the strange situation, Xing Yan offered himself another possibility.

Uh... that makes even less sense! This old sword may not be worth much, but it's still far better than that worthless scrap iron! Remembering the roomful of mockery the rusty strip had earned him, he immediately found this guess even more absurd than the last.

Could it be...?! Suddenly, another possibility occurred to Xing Yan. From the shifting expressions on his face, this new thought must have been startling indeed-even he himself was deeply shocked.

After a brief pause, however, his expression returned to normal.

That's far too incredible... even less possible!

Enough. No more wild guesses. I should hurry on! Heh...

So Xing Yan bent down, picked up the ragged cloth, wrapped the sword again, and carried it toward Flower Moon House.

After walking a few paces, he could not help talking to himself again:

"Ah... this old sword does have a decent shape. What a pity it's never been sharpened. After all the effort I spent polishing it today, sharpening it probably wouldn't be easy either. Perhaps it can't take an edge at all! Is that why its owner abandoned it? Heh, hehehe..."

After laughing a few times, Xing Yan, pleased with the soundness of his reasoning, continued:

"If its edges can neither be forged nor sharpened, it's no better than a flat ruler. Once I'm back at Flower Moon House, I might as well give it to some servant boy to play with and earn a little goodwill. If no one wants it, I'll simply throw it away!"

With that, Xing Yan made up his mind and quickened his pace.

Yet after another few steps, as he passed through a quiet, deserted spot, the boy abruptly stopped. He drew a deep breath, steadied himself, then suddenly reached out and tore away the sackcloth with all his strength.

In the slanting light of the setting sun, the ancient sword that had been flat and blunt now bore two keen, chilling edges! Its frost-bright cutting edges glittered beneath the evening rays like twin pools of cool autumn water, their shimmering radiance all the more striking against the aged blade. Those mirrorlike edges reflected the boy's clear, bright eyes.

Though Xing Yan had prepared himself for this strange sight, it still shocked him when he first saw it.

A moment later, however, he regained his composure. After all, he had experienced so many strange things in these two short days that he was beginning to take the uncanny in stride.

"How embarrassing! This old sword I picked up by chance really is a treasure with a spirit of its own!"

Anyone who unexpectedly acquired such a marvel would be delighted, let alone a boy like Xing Yan! Once he understood what had happened, joy nearly drove him wild. His hands danced and his feet stamped as he reveled in his good fortune!

Just as the boy was laughing with delight and almost forgetting himself, someone suddenly called out beside him:

"Young Xing Yan! What truth have you grasped this time to make you forget yourself so completely in your joy?"

Unable to contain his happiness, Xing Yan hastily turned at the voice-

"Ah! So it's you, honored elder!"

The caller wore brown robes and straw sandals, with black hair and a youthful face. He was none other than the Lord of the Clouds, whom Xing Yan had not seen for many days!

"Heh... thanks to the flute score you gave me that day, I've managed to earn my living. You taught me to fish rather than merely giving me a fish, and I've always kept that kindness in my heart..."

At this sudden reunion with his benefactor, Xing Yan had barely begun his rambling thanks when the Lord of the Clouds cut him off:

"A trifling kindness, hardly worth mentioning! I've come today for nothing else but to congratulate you!"

"Me? Congratulate me?" Xing Yan was puzzled. Could the elder already know he had acquired a treasure? Surely news could not travel that fast.

"Indeed!" The Lord of the Clouds grinned.

"Uh... what are you congratulating me for, honored elder?" Knowing that the Lord of the Clouds was no ordinary man, and indebted to him for both flute and score, Xing Yan always spoke with the utmost respect, never daring the slightest breach of courtesy. Though the easygoing elder had once told him to call him "older brother," Xing Yan had never dared overstep and still treated him as a teacher.

"Ha! You lad, playing ignorant before me! Why still call me honored elder? From now on, we shall address each other as fellow Daoists!"

The listening boy remained utterly bewildered by these words.

The Lord of the Clouds continued:

"I've come today to congratulate you on glimpsing the Heavenly Way and playing that wondrous immortal melody in full before you've even reached twenty!"

Only now did Xing Yan begin to understand. Evidently, the Lord of the Clouds already knew that he had used his "Great Splendor Dao Power" yesterday to play the extraordinary Water Dragon's Chant.

Hearing such praise from the Lord of the Clouds, whom he had always revered, Xing Yan felt rather pleased with himself. He wanted to give a modest reply, but could not find the words. He was plainly too embarrassed to mention the "Great Splendor Dao Power" he had named himself.

Thus, like any earnest boy praised by his elders, Xing Yan could only stand tongue-tied, grinning foolishly.

"Heh... though Daoist Zhang has only just glimpsed the Heavenly Way, if you continue cultivating with such determination, your future will be limitless!" Knowing perfectly well how easily the boy blushed before him, the irreverent Lord of the Clouds insisted on calling him "Daoist" again and again.

"...Your praise leaves me embarrassed, honored elder, but there's something I don't understand. Everyone seems to envy those who cultivate the Dao, yet what prospects does cultivation actually offer?"

Seeing that this extraordinary Lord of the Clouds also held cultivation in such esteem, the boy grew curious. After all, Qinghe, the genuine old Daoist of Shangqing Palace whom Xing Yan knew so well, hardly seemed to be doing particularly well. If cultivating brought only that sort of future, it might ensure food and clothing, but to Xing Yan, who already had those assured, it scarcely seemed "limitless."

"Hahaha..." Detecting the slight skepticism in the boy's expression, the Lord of the Clouds laughed and declared in a ringing voice:

"If a mortal cultivates the Great Dao and comprehends Heaven's mysteries, he can attain enduring life and ascend as an immortal. Thereafter, he may breathe wind and drink dew, eat no grain, live as long as heaven and earth, and journey alongside the sun and moon. He rides clouds abroad and treads rainbows home, coming and going in an instant, soaring freely upon the clouds and wandering between heaven and earth. With profound cultivation and abundant immortal affinity, he may even enter heaven and delve beneath the earth, command sacred luan birds, and ride flying dragons..."

Here, the Lord of the Clouds, who had been pouring out this marvelous vision of immortal life, abruptly stopped. After a pause, he became rather indignant:

"Ah! Pah, pah! As though anyone could casually ride a true dragon! What utter nonsense!"

Though Xing Yan did not understand why the enthusiastic elder had suddenly become angry with himself, he seized the opportunity to interrupt the talkative old man:

"Uh... quite right, quite right! But to tell you the truth, honored elder, I've already heard all these happy descriptions of becoming an immortal so often that I know them by heart!"

"Hmm? You know these words by heart?" The Lord of the Clouds, who had been working hard to extol immortality's wonders, was astonished.

"Yes! A Daoist from Shangqing Palace whom I know often tells me these things."

As he spoke, a picture involuntarily arose before Xing Yan's eyes: "Old Daoist Qinghe preaching."

Words accompanied by gestures, hands waving and feet stamping, beard and hair trembling, spittle flying everywhere as he endlessly praised the wonders of becoming an immortal. The substance of his speeches differed little from what the Lord of the Clouds had just said.

The slight difference was that, despite his eccentricity, old Qinghe was exceptionally eloquent. Whenever he warmed to his subject, extravagant descriptions burst from his mouth like the River of Heaven pouring upside down, a torrent without end. At such times, Xing Yan had to retreat hastily to keep the old Daoist's flying spittle from splashing onto his clean cloth shirt!

Qinghe's fervent praise generally began whenever Xing Yan questioned his prospects in cultivation. After several baptisms in showers of saliva, however, the boy learned his lesson and seldom dared provoke him unprepared.

The Lord of the Clouds, meanwhile, seemed quite surprised that someone else had spoken to Xing Yan of these things:

"Ah! No wonder Shangqing Palace has become famous throughout the world lately-they have such gifted advocates!"

"You're absolutely right, honored elder! Besides everything you just mentioned, I also know that those immortals sleep without dreams, wake without worries, eat without savoring, and breathe deeply. Good heavens! If they've lost all feeling, what's the point of becoming an immortal? They sound almost like dead people to me..."

"Utter nonsense!" At these words, the Lord of the Clouds' face flushed and paled, and the rebuke slipped out.

"Exactly! You think so too?" Warming to his subject, Xing Yan failed to notice the elder's expression and continued enthusiastically:

"I think all that is utter nonsense too! Even if immortals really exist, they shouldn't all be wooden people like that. I've read some Daoist writings myself. In my view, those who attain immortality should commune in spirit with heaven and earth alone, while letting everything else follow its natural course-not stop savoring food or dreaming!"

Whenever old Qinghe debated this question with him, the Daoist's words flowed like a mighty river, leaving the boy few chances to speak. Suddenly finding a "kindred spirit," Xing Yan spilled out all his usual thoughts like beans pouring from a bamboo tube.

"Uh..." Hearing this, the Lord of the Clouds did not immediately answer.

The black-haired, youthful-faced elder studied the boy for a long while before saying:

"Hehe, young Xing Yan, you speak very well. It seems this old man was too attached to outward appearances."

"It appears my jade flute Divine Snow and Water Dragon's Chant truly went to someone destined for them-"

"Ah!"

At this point, the Lord of the Clouds seemed suddenly to remember something and slapped his forehead:

"I was so busy chatting with you that I forgot the most important reason I came today!"

"Hmm? What is it?"

"If we hadn't mentioned Divine Snow, I might have forgotten altogether. Hehe."

"Ah, honored elder, speaking of the jade flute Divine Snow, I have something to tell you too!" The mention of the flute immediately reminded Xing Yan of that headstrong girl.

"Hmm? Has someone come demanding the flute from you? A young girl?" The Lord of the Clouds actually seemed somewhat nervous as he asked.

"Ah, exactly! You truly foresee everything, honored elder-uh..." At this point, Xing Yan seemed to sense something amiss. He hesitated, then asked:

"Could... that girl really be the flute's original owner?"

"Uh... no, no! Its true original owner is indeed me! It's just that, these past few years, I've often left it with my granddaughter for her to admire and play with. Heh..."

The perceptive boy could tell that the Lord of the Clouds spoke with little confidence.

"Oh! So she's your granddaughter. What you say makes sense-but... I think I'd better return the flute to her!"

"Tut! How could I, the Lord of the Clouds, take back something I've given away? Say no more of that! I haven't come to reclaim the flute today, but to ask another favor."

"What favor?" Xing Yan wondered what the Lord of the Clouds could possibly need his help with.

"Hehe, I've only come to ask you to cover up something for me. That girl of mine has a rather peculiar temper. If she learns I casually gave her belongings away, she'll surely-cough, cough-cry without stopping! Quite troublesome." As he spoke, the Lord of the Clouds unconsciously covered the beard beneath his chin.

"Ha! So that's all! A trifle! Leave it to me. When the young lady asks, I'll say..." Accustomed to moving among the streets and markets, the boy had absorbed plenty of experience in such matters. This was a well-traveled road for him, and after only a brief pause, he had an idea:

"I'll simply say you made a drinking wager with my father and staked the flute, but didn't realize how well he could hold his liquor, so you lost. Being a man of your word, how could you go back on it? And so the flute came into my hands... What do you think?"

"Wonderful, wonderful! Perfectly reasonable in every respect! With those words to stop that girl, all will be calm and peaceful! Young minds really do turn quickly. You've rescued this old man from a terrible predicament! Uh..."

Delighted as he was, the Lord of the Clouds suddenly realized he had let something slip. Embarrassed, he hastily fell silent. After a long pause, he asked somewhat hesitantly:

"That girl of mine hasn't made things difficult for you, has she? If she's been discourteous, please be generous and forgive her!"

"No, no! I must say, your granddaughter is truly beautiful. Such lovely looks are rarely seen in this world!" The tactful boy avoided mentioning Ling Yier's temperament and praised only her appearance.

Even as he spoke, however, the girl's many headstrong antics inevitably surfaced in his mind.

"Haha! Hahaha! Young Xing Yan, you flatter her! You flatter her! My little girl's looks are merely passable!"

Like every parent or elder who loved their children, the Lord of the Clouds beamed from ear to ear at Xing Yan's unstinting praise of his granddaughter. Though he still remembered to speak modestly, one glance at his smiling eyes told Xing Yan that joy was blooming in his heart!

After a short pause, Xing Yan cautiously asked again:

"Honored elder, since this jade flute Divine Snow was originally your granddaughter's cherished possession, I still think it would be best to return it to her."

"Eh?"

Seeing the boy still insist on returning the flute, the Lord of the Clouds was rather surprised and did not answer at once. He closed his eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them and smiled:

"Hehe, perhaps you don't yet know that all treasured artifacts beneath heaven possess spirits of their own and seek out those destined for them. Without that affinity, you cannot obtain them however hard you try. With it, you cannot throw them away even if you wish."

"In this old man's opinion, the jade flute Divine Snow is destined for you. I'm afraid you won't be returning it anytime soon!"