Chapter 53: Chi Dragon Swirls Water, Dad Calls

At dawn, sunlight filtered through the window and fell upon Zhang Fan’s face.

He slowly opened his eyes; dust motes danced in the sunlight, and his eyelashes twitched briefly.

“Long Hu…”

Zhang Fan murmured softly, savoring the name; last night’s dream had been extraordinarily clear.

Since descending from Zhenwu Mountain, joining Ye Buliang, and sparring with Wen He, Zhang Fan had frequently dreamed of the car accident when he was twelve.

Yet each dream was nearly identical—pitch-black darkness, nothing visible at all.

This time, however, it was different—vivid, as if he had just lived through it yesterday.

“Long Hu Mountain…” Zhang Fan pondered.

It was one of the Ten Great Daoist Sacred Mountains, yet as a tourist site, it was only rated 4A; rumors said the main peak had never been developed for tourism, and ordinary visitors couldn’t reach it.

“Long Hu Mountain is in Changnan Province… have I ever been there?” Zhang Fan frowned.

His mother died in that car accident at age twelve; he remembered traveling with his parents on a rural trip when a truck driver, exhausted from fatigue, crashed into their bus.

Clearly, fatigued driving kills people!

In Zhang Fan’s memory, he had never set foot in Changnan Province, let alone Long Hu Mountain.

“I’ve been having strange dreams lately…” Zhang Fan frowned, reached instinctively for his phone by the bed, opened his contacts, and found his father…

“Sorry, the number you dialed is currently unreachable…”

The phone rang for a long time before a mechanical, polite prompt sounded.

Zhang Fan checked the time—just past seven in the morning; normally at this hour, Zhang Lingzong would already be working on the construction site.

“I’ll call again at noon.”

Zhang Fan rose and left, squeezing onto the subway packed with people; his eyes half-closed, he let the air’s myriad odors assault his nostrils, his throat subtly shifting as if swallowing saliva.

This was a Daoist method for generating essence and nourishing Qi, called “Chi Long Juan Shui.”

Though swallowing saliva seems trivial, it hides profound cultivation secrets.

Daoism contains many health-preserving practices—even amid worldly life—and one may attempt them, yet many transmitted methods use cryptic language; ordinary people read them as if deciphering celestial script, unable to grasp their meaning.

For instance, “Chi Long” in alchemical texts refers to a woman’s menstrual flow; female cultivators must sever the Chi Long—not literally slay a crimson dragon, but rather seal their essence and blood to achieve menopause.

Here, “Chi Long” refers to the human tongue—the tongue is the sprout of the heart, crimson in color, soft and supple; sometimes called “Hong Lian.”

Alchemical texts say: Beneath the Hong Lian’s leaves lies the elixir cavity; Chi water flows, carrying nine pearl-like pulses.

The tongue connects to the heart through two orifices and to bodily fluids through two others.

Thus, when one falls ill, the first symptom is dry mouth and tongue; the saliva beneath the tongue dries up, draining true Qi.

In health cultivation, one stirs the tongue within the mouth to generate saliva—called “Chi Long Jiao Hai,” or “Chi Long Juan Shui”; alchemical texts say: Chi Long Juan Shui, swallow thirty-six mouthfuls of essence, guiding them down to Huang Zhong.

This is a method for generating essence and Qi, accessible even to ordinary people.

“Huang Zhong” refers to one’s dantian.

The Dao De Jing says: The valley spirit never dies; it is called the mysterious female. The gate of the mysterious female is called the root of heaven and earth… [Mysterious Female Gate] also refers to the dantian.

Daoist health cultivation includes “Chi Long Juan Shui”; it is simple for ordinary people: press the tongue to the palate, and saliva will naturally form—the Daoist “Jin Jin Yu Ye”—and when swallowed, it flows autonomously into the dantian, stimulating essence and Qi.

In ancient times, many Daoists secluded themselves in deep mountains; when lacking food or drink, they used this method and remained vigorous for three days and nights.

Today, people face high stress, excessive socializing, and frequent late nights, depleting their blood and Qi; this method helps—especially for those who overindulge in lust, masturbate excessively, or drink and stay up late daily; just ten minutes a day yields remarkable results.

Zhang Fan practiced for half a month; now he no longer needs breakfast, his hair is thick and jet-black, his eyes sharper than ever, and crucially, he no longer feels the dullness most people suffer upon waking.

The Zhang Fan of today is no longer the cultivation novice who first descended from Zhenwu Mountain.

Especially after joining Ye Buliang, his cultivation has indeed advanced; when he encounters difficulties, his boss can resolve them, and occasionally he spars with Wen He to test his learning. No wonder Bu Jie recommended him to Ye Buliang, saying he would make great progress here.

Now, Zhang Fan has entered the [Shu Tu] rank, drawing closer to his long-sought [Gao Gong] level.

Arriving at Taoyuan Square, Zhang Fan saw several police and industrial inspection vehicles parked below.

A crowd had gathered in the lobby, whispering among themselves.

He listened awhile and learned that the thirteenth-floor “Shou Zhu” had been shut down for tax evasion, counterfeiting, unlicensed operation… a dozen charges in total; if He Fei hadn’t died, he might have qualified for a pension.

“So this is how the higher-ups operate? Effortlessly efficient.” Zhang Fan muttered, as if unrelated, then turned and left.

At the company, he knocked on Bai Buran’s office door; what weighed most on his mind was still Jiang Lai.

“The boss hasn’t arrived yet.”

Jiang Hu, holding a quanjiafu pancake in one hand and soy milk in the other, bit into the pancake and mumbled through a mouthful.

“Still not here at this hour?” Zhang Fan checked the time.

“You talk like that? The boss isn’t a beast of burden—why should he come in so early?”

“…”

“Company rules are made for beasts of burden!”

“…”

“Are you thinking of the boss, or Jiang Lai?”

Jiang Hu, chewing a piece of pork tenderloin, leaned over to Zhang Fan at his desk, winking mischievously.

“What do you mean ‘thinking’? I’m just concerned for a colleague.” Zhang Fan said coolly.

“A cultivator must treat others with sincerity. Your hypocrisy will bring you bad luck in Ye Buliang,” Jiang Hu said gravely.

“If you truly care, take a day off and go sit by her bedside.”

“Sit by her bedside!?”

“When a woman suffers, love becomes tangible… this is your best chance to show it.”

Jiang Hu spoke like a seasoned veteran: “Women are simple…”

“Either give me money, or give me love, or get lost…”

“What can you give her?”

As he spoke, Jiang Hu looked at Zhang Fan, set down his soy milk, patted his shoulder, and encouraged: “Brother, listen to me…”

“Love her through to the end, no matter where.”

“To the end!?” Zhang Fan froze, then glanced at Jiang Hu with a strange, disdainful expression.

“What… what’s that look for? I didn’t mean it like that!” Jiang Hu realized his mistake and hurried to explain.

“Did I say what you thought?”

“You bastard…” Jiang Hu fell silent; Zhang Fan burst out laughing.

“Dad’s dad is a demon, dad’s mom is a demon…”

At that moment, a pleasant phone ringtone sounded; Zhang Fan pulled out his phone—it was Zhang Lingzong calling.

He immediately rose from his desk and stepped away to answer the call.

(End of Chapter)