Chapter 11: Seeking the Immortal Dao

Hengcun Wang family, the main hall.

Lin Jue returned again.

Though the matter of spending the night in the ancestral hall to drive away spirits had already been settled, he still received a chair and a bowl of tea—red broth steeped with golden chrysanthemums, clearly fine tea.

Lin Jue brought a wild chicken caught in a forest trap; not precious in these hills, but worth far more than common mountain bamboo shoots or grain—a small token of his gratitude.

“Thanks to your help, my uncle’s illness has fully recovered—he’s now well.”

“The credit is yours, not mine. We owe each other nothing; no need to come specially to thank me.” Wang Laotaiye looked at him. “But now, you can focus on your studies and take the examinations.”

“To be honest, I’ve decided to leave.”

“Leave? Aren’t you studying in the village?”

“The village lacks scholarly energy. For years, those here have struggled to pursue learning. Since my parents are gone, I thought it better to step out and see the vast world.”

Lin Jue’s words were much the same as before.

“Is that so…”

Wang Laotaiye, a renowned local virtuous elder, naturally understood that “lack of scholarly energy” was merely a polite way of saying the old tutor from neighboring Shu Village was insufficient in learning. Yet as a teacher, that old tutor’s virtue was so great even the spirits in the ancestral hall respected him; over the years, not a single Shu villager had ever become reckless or disrespectful, so no one harshly criticized him.

Moreover, he could guess that Lin Jue’s urgency to leave was likely due to his family’s poverty.

At this moment, he studied Lin Jue closely, took a breath, sipped tea, thought for a moment, then said: “If you truly wish to study but are held back by poverty or other reasons, you may come to our Hengcun academy to borrow books. As for ink, paper, and expenses, my Wang family will cover them.”

“You are too kind, old master. If this were true, it would be a great favor. I deeply appreciate your goodwill, but my heart is no longer set on studying.” Lin Jue paused, then bowed and requested, “I only ask you to issue me a travel permit.”

“Ah…”

Wang Laotaiye was not as fixated on making him study as Lin Jue’s uncle and aunt had been, nor as affectionate toward him—no days of patient persuasion were needed. He merely waved his hand:

“You conversed calmly with spirits and ghosts—you must have your own sense. Someone like you, in this world, can achieve something no matter what path you choose. If you ever return home, whether successful or not, come drink tea with me again.”

“I will certainly come to pay my respects.”

“I have an old satchel, used by a younger relative when he went out to study and take exams. It’s worthless, but take it.”

“Then I won’t refuse.” Lin Jue first thanked him, then added, “You’ve seen much, old master. May I ask—how do I get to Qiyun Mountain?”

“Qiyun Mountain? That’s quite far.”

“I want to see it.”

“Hmm, going to pay respects won’t hurt. I heard those Daoists have been busy lately, but they’re probably done now.” Wang Laotaiye recalled, “My last trip to Qiyun Mountain was twenty or thirty years ago… First head to the county seat. Halfway there, when you cross the bridge, turn left along the main road—you’ll reach the neighboring county. I won’t give you more directions; you’d forget them anyway. Things may have changed in all these years—ask once you get there.”

“Thank you…”

Lin Jue bowed sincerely.

As for the travel permit, countless officials in this region had come from the Wang family or received aid from Wang Laotaiye—this was a trivial matter to him.

…

Mid-April, early morning.

Lin Jue had set out from home.

The boy wore a simple robe, dressed like a scholar, carrying the satchel Wang Laotaiye had given him—a square bamboo basket lined with coarse cloth, topped with a sunshade, the standard luggage for scholars traveling to study or take exams in the capital. Inside were several books, spare clothes, a small dagger for defense, dried rations, a water flask, and a few copper coins.

Anyone seeing him would think him a scholar.

Many villagers came to see Lin Jue off.

Besides his uncle and aunt and cousin, there were several nearby neighbors, elderly Shu villagers who often spoke with him, childhood friends, the academy’s old tutor—and to Lin Jue’s surprise, even the woman who served as temple attendant at the San Gu Temple.

Some brought boiled eggs, others small bags of rice or flour, some dried rations—they walked with him all the way to the pavilion outside the village.

“Lin Jue, if no teacher takes you in and you can’t make it, come back quickly. We’ve kept your two rooms for you.” His cousin spoke with serious earnestness.

“Understood.”

Lin Jue agreed.

He knew that if he succeeded in his studies or gained wealth, he’d likely return—or at least send money home. But if things truly became unbearable, as his cousin feared, his own nature would make him think carefully before returning.

“We didn’t take good care of you…”

His aunt, a traditional woman, had covered her face and wept.

“That’s not true.”

“The world isn’t peaceful now. You’re young—I fear you’ll end up like your father…”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Be careful. Don’t go far—just wander in the neighboring county. If it doesn’t work, come back quickly!”

“I know.”

The last to approach Lin Jue was the temple attendant of San Gu Temple.

This ordinary middle-aged woman carried a bamboo sieve filled with fresh seasonal fruit, and what she said to Lin Jue surprised him greatly:

“These are from San Gu.”

“Huh?”

“This morning, after I napped in the temple, I dreamed—San Gu came alive. She told me someone from the village was leaving, and to give you the fruit from the altar for food and drink on the road.”

“San Gu?”

Lin Jue froze.

“I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it felt real. After I saw San Gu off, I suddenly woke up on the threshold. While I was asleep, I didn’t realize it was a dream.”

“This…”

“Thank San Gu.”

“Thank you, San Gu.”

Lin Jue said it first, then turned slowly, facing the San Gu Temple and the distant mountains, and spoke again.

Yet his mind began to ponder—

San Gu was one of three deities worshipped in the village, venerated for centuries, perhaps even millennia.

Legend says that long ago, a family in the village had three daughters who, in their leisure, visited a nearby immortal mountain, stole and ate its immortal peaches, then transformed into carp, and later into three great mountains—the three peaks behind the village, rising like a heavenly wall and screen.

This tale was widely known and recorded in the county annals.

Thus, these three deities were not merely worshipped by Shu Village—many locals revered them, which is why the temple fair exists.

If these deities were real, then my frequent meditations by the streams and woods near Shu Village must not have escaped their notice.

Perhaps they knew of my cultivation and sent the attendant to give me this gift.

Lin Jue grew alert.

If so, then did they also see me reading ancient texts in my room? What did those texts look like to them? What kind of beings were the gods of this world?

But the alertness lasted only an instant.

Lin Jue soon decided it was unnecessary—

Such oversight was unavoidable, and there was no remedy now. Though he had learned the Qi-nourishing method, how could a mere trick stand against divine beings? He knew so little of this world. All he could be certain of was the heavy, sincere kindness the deities had slipped into his pocket through the attendant. To speculate further would be petty.

Better to accept it calmly—at least his heart would feel at ease.

He’d simply be more careful in the future.

Thinking thus, his mind grew light.

“Thank you, San Gu!”

Lin Jue said it again, then stepped forward.

The crowd around him thinned.

Finally, even his cousin had been persuaded to return, walking back alone with a lonely, dejected figure. Lin Jue turned back several times, just as his cousin had, until the bamboo grove curved—and the path held only him.

He stopped, looking all around.

On both sides stretched deep bamboo forests; these bamboos were far greener than he remembered, their green spreading up the high mountains, coloring all the peaks the same hue.

Walking alone, he felt the mountains immense, the man tiny—and thinking of the vastness of heaven and earth, he felt smaller still.

Even one who had made his decision long ago now felt a pang of uncertainty.

Heaven and earth were vast; the Immortal Dao was hard to find.

After standing still for a while, Lin Jue steadied himself and resumed walking.

He was heading toward Qiyun Mountain.

It was April; the weather was still cool, the bamboo grove refreshing. A gentle breeze blew, rustling the leaves, with birds chirping everywhere—the whole mountain echoed with the same sound.

Carrying the satchel slowed him, but today’s goal was only a temple between the two counties, so he wasn’t in a hurry, often pausing to rest.

When hungry, he took out the dumplings his aunt had made—one was enough. When thirsty, he didn't bother to fetch his water flask, just found a stream and drank mountain spring water. When neither hungry nor thirsty, he pulled out San Gu’s fruit and bit into a couple—after all, they wouldn’t keep long.

Honestly, though the fruit had sat on the altar for a day or two, they were surprisingly sweet.

“San Gu…”

Lin Jue murmured.

So beyond spirits and ghosts, there truly were deities.

How interesting.

…

Mountains brought frequent rain; the sky changed unpredictably.

On the second afternoon, Lin Jue encountered a downpour.

Fortunately, the darkening sky gave warning—he found a tea pavilion in time. Inside were many merchants and travelers, perfect for listening to their chatter.

The wind, the rain, the mountain and road views, the expressions of the people—painted a plain yet real world.

But the rain lasted longer than expected.

It began at the end of the Wu hour and kept falling through the Shen hour, still unceasing by the You hour.

If he didn’t hurry, he’d be walking in darkness.

Lin Jue often caught fragments of conversation drifting into his ears.

“The world is unstable these days…”

“There may be demons and ghosts on the road…”

“I heard just two days ago…”

Such words added a layer of anxiety and unease.

Fortunately, Lin Jue had prepared in advance—

Today’s journey was short; if one walked slowly, it could be completed in a day, yet he had walked quickly ahead, just to guard against surprises. He was now not far from where he would rest tonight.

Even so, many travelers refused to wait; seeing dusk approach, they wiped rain from their hair and plunged into the downpour.

Some were anxious, others calm.

The anxious ones looked disheveled.

The calm ones moved with ease.

As the hour of You neared and dusk fell, the rain lessened.

Many merchants and travelers stepped out to watch the rain; Lin Jue went out too, saw that the raindrops striking his face had grown thin and sparse, nearly negligible, and the sky had brightened again. Seeing many travelers already setting off, he slung his book satchel onto his back and hurried forward.