Chapter 349: with translation of chapter title

When the time of the next day approached the chen hour, Pangzi put on a new set of clothes, took along a new set of clothes prepared for Master Yang Seven, and under the accompaniment of me and QingSongShu, we walked from home to Chan-Yi Hall, preparing to bow to Master Yang Seven as a secondary teacher.

A secondary teacher is a title apart from the primary teacher, and Pangzi's first master is QingSongShu, who is also his primary teacher.

Speaking of this, many people probably find it strange, since they say a master is like a father and a disciple like a son; if the master is still alive, how can one take a second person as a teacher? Aren't you afraid the master will find out and you'll be struck by heavenly thunder?

However, whether in Daoist or folk rites, this not only does not violate ethics, but the master will actually encourage you to take on two more secondary teachers to learn more. Since the Daoist Sect's five arts are vast and profound, although mountain physiognomy, medicine, and divination are not separate fields, in the arts of fate calculation and divination, feng shui, and exorcism and subduing demons, they are mutually applied. Yet many people spend their whole lives, exhausting their limited experience, yet can only grasp the essence of one of these arts.

Therefore, to ensure the disciple receives better guidance, even if you do not formally take a master, once the master senses you have talent in another art—though he himself may know it but not be fully versed—he will also recommend a master for you so as not to waste your talent. Of course, the first master is irreplaceable; we call him the primary teacher, and the masters we later take on are called secondary teachers and reference teachers. Not only in folk rites, but sometimes between Daoism and Buddhism as well, they will mutually recommend disciples and masters.

As the Huaguang Dharma Lineage representing the folk rites of Guangdong and Guangxi, and with Master Yang Seven enjoying considerable prestige in the folk rites, before dawn many fellow practitioners heard the news and rushed over to congratulate Master Yang Seven, and many others stayed in Chan-Yi Hall to watch the initiation ceremony proceed. This has nothing to do with comprehending the magic; it is merely a matter of etiquette.

When Pangzi and I arrived at Chan-Yi Hall, the surroundings were already packed with people, most of whom were fellow practitioners who had rushed in from outside upon hearing the news, or neighbors coming to see the excitement.

Master Yang Seven sat upright in the central chair before the hall, and from the doorway to the middle of the hall a total of thirty-six water bowls were placed, each filled with water and arranged on the ground in the order of the Thirty-Six Heavenly Gang.

Seeing these thirty-six water bowls, I was startled, yet at the same time I felt pleased for Pangzi.

Although the procedure for accepting disciples in folk rites is not as elaborate as that of Daoism, its simplicity makes it more challenging.

First, the master will examine your eight characters; although a person's eight characters mainly indicate innate destiny, they can also reveal whether one has an affinity with the Dao. If the eight characters contain gang and general stars, the master will absolutely not accept you as a disciple; if one's destiny bears two stars, although one may study feng shui and divination, there is no affinity with the Dao, nor can one communicate with spirits.

If one's destiny bears no double stars yet has an affinity with the Dao, the master will select an auspicious day for the deities to take their seats based on the eight characters and the yearly clashes and oppositions, and choose that day to perform the initiation.

The rules and tests for initiation are usually varied and manifold; for example, stepping over water bowls is one of the Huaguang Dharma Lineage's disciple-acceptance trials.

After the master lays out the water bowls, the disciple must barefoot step across them; if he falls during the process or spills the water from a bowl, even if his eight characters place him in the position of deities and the proper resource among the ten gods shows the canopy, the master will still not accept him as a disciple.

However, stepping over water bowls also has levels; usually, folk masters lay out seven water bowls arranged in the Big Dipper formation for the initial trial, then thirty-six bowls for the second trial, and seventy-two bowls for the third. Some have divided Mao Mountain's teachings into lower, middle, and upper Mao, thinking they are three Mao Mountain sects. Actually, this is a misunderstanding by outsiders; the upper, middle, and lower Mao merely refer to three different levels of practice within Mao Mountain sorcery, through which the results of cultivation at three levels are manifested by the corresponding methods. Lower Mao summons child spirits to beseech ghosts; Middle Mao exorcises evils, subdues demons, and cultivates the soul and spirit; Upper Mao achieves unity of heaven and man, focusing on internal thunder methods.

If you divide Mount Mao into these three levels, you can also categorize Huaguang into three grades according to the number of water bowls. Normally, when a disciple first enters the door, the master uses seven water bowls for the trial; after the disciple has practiced for a while, the master uses thirty-six bowls. Many folk masters, unless they regard the disciple as an inner-circle transmission or a biological father-son pair, rarely lay out the Thirty-Six Heavenly Gang formation for the first trial. This second-level trial transmits a more potent method; after passing it, the disciple's magic becomes more efficacious than after the first trial, able to reach the state where the master's summons arrive instantly and the heart-moved method manifests, without fear of backfiring.

This is also why I was startled yet pleased for Pangzi; as long as Pangzi passes the thirty-six water bowls, I think what comes next will not be a problem.

Given Pangzi's years of martial foundation, stepping over the thirty-six water bowls in a horse stance is certainly no problem. However, his bulky physique makes me feel a pang of alarm; I'm not afraid he'll fall, but I fear the bowls on the ground will shatter—after all… each bowl costs a few coins.

Fortunately, today Pangzi's character burst forth, and he did not break any bowls; after passing the water-bowl trial, the next step was to report to the Huaguang Patriarch and solicit his opinion!

How to ask… This is also a key point in folk rites trials: casting lots. The lots referred to here are a pair of cups made from ox horn, also called divine cups. In temples, the temple keepers usually have a pair each; when you inquire about your prospects or wealth, they kneel before the deities and cast lots for you—two faces up are yang, two faces down are yin, and one up one down is the auspicious yin-yang lot.

This is also the most crucial step in accepting disciples in folk rites: after reporting to the patriarch, one must cast lots—once at minimum, three times ideal. If after three attempts one cannot produce the yin-yang lot, it shows the patriarch does not consent. Although some folk practitioners, for money, will stubbornly cast lots, reciting ten-odd sections of memorials and throwing ten or eight times until they finally get a yin-yang lot, such forced casting is of little use; even if they gain entry, they will likely find the magic hard to wield smoothly.

After Master Yang Seven reported to the patriarch, he threw the two divine cups to the ground; the first throw yielded a yang cup, and when he picked them up again and threw them down, the pattern that suddenly appeared on the ground was the auspicious yin-yang lot.

The patriarch agreed, and the subsequent matters are no longer important—just some rituals and procedures, requiring the submission of memorials and informing the disciple of the precepts to observe after entering the Dao, etc.

Of course, there is also the stone-entrusted soul concealment and the transmission of secret teachings; these two procedures are top-secret. The soul-concealment tablet needs no explanation, and the transmission of secret teachings is also a hidden matter of the sect, inaccessible to outsiders.

However, Huanguang's martial method is pure yang, so it is unsuitable to teach at night; the time for teaching martial arts is usually daytime, and the place for transmitting the Dharma is some unnamed hilltop.

After the procedures were finished, Master Seven left the heavy burdens behind, took Pangzi in a vehicle to the hilltop. Although I was also curious, I knew this was a sect's secret, not to be probed by me, so I could only resentfully sit with everyone, eating eight-treasure rice and dishes.

Around seven o'clock in the evening, Master Seven led Pangzi back; after returning, he went straight into the room. After about two more hours, a call from Master Seven echoed from inside the house.

"Hai Sheng, come in with us too!"

Master Seven's voice came from inside the room; when I first heard it, I was dazed, wondering inexplicably why he was calling me in to do what.

Finally, QingSongShu nodded at me and said, "Go in!"; only then did I step forward calmly and enter the room.

The Five Manifestations Great Emperor Huaguang sat imposingly enthroned in the house's divine urn, with Master Yang Seven and Pangzi below. Pangzi clasped his hands together reverently, standing beside Master Yang Seven.

Master Yang Seven was holding a bowl of wine; after I closed the door, he tipped his head back and gulped it down into his stomach.

I puzzledly asked Pangzi, "What is Master Seven doing?" Pangzi made a hushing gesture, shushed, indicating I should first keep quiet.

Not long after, a sudden angry shout rang out in the house, like thunderous fury, striking blow after blow at people's chests, making my heart suddenly panic.

I traced the sound and found that the angry shout came from Master Seven's mouth. Looking again, his face was flushed red, and fine sweat trickled from his forehead to the corners of his eyes.

Seeing him lift his foot, preparing to stomp on the ground, Pangzi and I hurriedly covered our ears in fright.

Not long after, a booming roar sounded from the flat ground; even with my ears covered I could feel my head swimming.

When I came to and opened my eyes, I saw Master Seven standing not far away, eyes closed, standing like an old monk in deep meditation, without speaking.

The house was filled with a desolate atmosphere; if I were to describe this feeling, it would be that all things are dead silent, devoid of a trace of vitality, everything before me a hazy gray.

Suddenly, Master Seven opened his eyes; his gaze shot out like two bolts of lightning toward me, making me involuntarily stagger backward.

At that moment I finally understood what Master Seven was doing—he was invoking a master.

This is a procedure unknown to ordinary people; we insiders call it the Yin Master's Dharma Transmission. When accepting disciples, the master invites the spirit of a deceased senior from the lineage to possess him, or teaches the disciple two lost secret arts, or gives the disciple some pointers. The Yin Masters summoned by the master were usually renowned Daoists who had pacified the four directions in life; whether they impart Dharma or give pointers, they bring great benefit to the disciple.

Thinking of this, my heart also swelled with excitement; since Master Seven called me in, it naturally means I can also listen to the Yin Master's transmitted Dharma. Although the Daoist lineages differ, learning more would also benefit me greatly.

Just as I had thought, not long after, the Master Seven who had entered meditation as an old monk spoke.

"You two, come over." Compared to Master Yang Seven's vigorous voice, this voice sounded like that of a seventy-year-old elder, weathered with a hint of weariness from seeing through the world.

However, Pangzi and I dare not underestimate this possessing Yin Master; seeing the vigor he displayed when he first opened his eyes earlier, one can easily imagine that in life this old man was certainly no ordinary person.

When Pangzi and I approached the possessed Master Yang Seven, he drew in a sharp breath of cold air, looked at us in astonishment, and shouted.

"In the human path, a lone star; in the Buddhist path, an asura."

Pangzi and I stared at each other, wondering what nonsense the Yin Master was spouting—talking about lone stars and asuras.

The strangeness did not end there; after uttering a sentence we could not understand, he ran his hands over our bodies. To be precise, he was measuring our bones with his hands—a lost technique; even Pangzi and I do not know its secret.

He paused a moment on Pangzi's forehead, then paused again when he reached my armpit. After a while, he solemnly told Pangzi and me, "I have nothing to teach you; the only thing I can tell you are these two lines—remember them well."

Pangzi and I immediately sharpened our focus, not daring to be negligent.

"The mortal world is a furnace, passion like a tiger; a single thought can make a Buddha, a single thought can make a demon." This is what he said to Pangzi.

"Depending on ghosts, a life of drifting; hatred like maggots—look after yourself." This is what he said to me.

"Alright, I'm tired and it's time to go. Before I leave, let me leave you two juniors something." As he spoke, Master Seven's body grew stooped, like a dying old man on his last breath.

He broke his middle finger, letting two drops of blood fall into the wine-filled bowl. Then he leaned over the table beside him and gradually slipped into unconsciousness.

Those two drops of blood slowly dissolved, turning the whole bowl a vivid red; not long after, something seemed to float up on the surface.

Pangzi and I stepped forward to look, and found two strings of small-leaf purple sandalwood bracelets. Seeing this, we understood—these were the gifts the Yin Master left for us two.

Pangzi and I each took one string and put it on our wrists; at that moment, Master Seven also woke up.

"Uncle Seven..." Pangzi raised the small-leaf purple sandalwood on his wrist, but Master Yang Seven waved his hand to cut him off.

"Don't ask, don't say, since it's what the Yin Master left for you, just wear it." Seventh Uncle told us that.

"Get out!" Seventh Uncle waved at us wearily.

I and Pangzi exchanged a glance, then withdrew respectfully.

Although it's a bit strange, we didn't learn any magic, but we earned a string of small-leaf purple sandalwood, Grandfather Pangzi's mood was also especially good. When we came out, he also quietly pulled my shoulder and muttered: "Looks like a good thing; when you're short on money, you can sell it for two coins."

I;... "Grandfather Pangzi, how lacking in money must you be?"

Volume Five, Aomen Storm and Cloud Record.