Of course, that was not to say that the owner of a quiet, austere place like this would necessarily become an enlightened master.
But at least those who could remain indifferent to fame and fortune and set aside material desires could often divert more of their attention away from money and worldly affairs, focusing instead on the Great Dao itself and naturally pursuing loftier things.
Cui Jiuyang crawled down the tent wall and slithered over to the table, carefully examining the papers spread across it.
The papers were densely covered in tiny, neat regular script, the brushwork steady and assured.
Yet as he examined them one by one, he discovered that they contained nothing but insights on breathing exercises, along with observations and questions about the circulation of spiritual energy. Not a single word concerned the recent situation in the camp, the internal affairs of the Directorate of Astronomy, or... any clues about the fabrication of the false dragon.
Slightly disappointed, he turned to look at the figure on the bed.
Apart from a plain quilt, there were no Magical Treasures or magical implements on the man's bed. Only a seemingly ordinary fly-whisk lay casually atop a folded Daoist robe, which had been placed on the inner side of the bed, against the wall.
Cui Jiuyang turned his attention to the two chests sitting side by side beside the table.
Suppressing his aura, he carefully opened them in turn.
The first chest was filled with talisman paper, cinnabar ink, copper-coin swords, bagua mirrors, brass bells, and various other articles used by Daoists.
These were all ordinary objects, without the slightest fluctuation of spiritual energy. Clearly, they were merely common props used for Daoist rites in the mundane world, not genuine magical implements.
Cui Jiuyang grew even more puzzled.
He carefully