Chapter 26: The Old Daoist and the Girl

There were five peach gums altogether, amber-colored and semi-translucent.

Lin Jue took them out as he walked, examining them.

There was no choice—

Since they had been given to him, he could only accept them as a parting gift from a senior and old friend.

But what use were they? How could he use them?

Should he boil them and eat them?

Then what exactly were they?

Lin Jue had eaten peach gum before—it came from peach trees—but a peach tree that had become a spirit and spoken to him for days now gifted him several pieces of its own gum. If this were a human, what would such a gift be called?

Lin Jue always felt something was strange.

Strange as it was, his mood was still good—partly wondrous and ethereal, partly serene and pleasant.

His book satchel, now nearly fully repaired, leaned against his staff as a cane; he was only two days’ walk from Qiyun Mountain, and his steps grew lighter by the hour.

Yet as he walked, Lin Jue found himself thinking more than before.

He often paid attention to the flowers, grasses, and trees by the roadside.

To practice Wood Concealment, one must first harmonize with plants.

Lin Jue did not know how to harmonize with plants, so he frequently stopped to observe vegetation he had never noticed before, touching their leaves, examining their blossoms.

In his past life, he had known many who loved flowers and trees—love beyond ordinary reach, mostly among delicate-minded women. Back then, Lin Jue thought such plants were common things, everywhere to be seen, with no need to study or record them individually. But now, the truth proved effortlessly that he had simply lacked the mindset and time to truly look.

At this moment, Lin Jue had not cultivated or gained any insight—yet merely by spending a little more time and attention to observe, he had already discovered their unusualness.

Almost every tree was different, each with its own unique traits; almost every flower was distinct, every newly bloomed blossom so tender and clean. Even the tiniest flower, when examined closely, revealed petals and stamens of exquisite complexity—far beyond mere lines and colors in a painting.

Besides, it was summer—the season of lush foliage and rampant growth. Along the roadside, wildflowers bloomed wildly, vines bore fruit, and all the vegetation displayed their life and character freely.

As Lin Jue observed carefully, he was occasionally struck with wonder, as if he had discovered a hidden delight.

Naturally, it was merely delight.

As for insight, he had none at all.

Yet even this brought him satisfaction—and surprise.

For delight itself was a precious thing.

Thus, his walking pace slowed considerably.

If he encountered an ancient tree thicker than himself—even if it stood beside the path in a forest—he would set down his satchel and visit it, provided the ground wasn’t too rough. Sometimes, following what the book and the tree spirit had said, he pressed his hand against the trunk, feeling the bark’s texture, focusing his mind, attempting to sense the tree’s essence, attuning himself to the spirit of wood, imagining himself becoming one with it.

Feeling his heart clear, seized by playful curiosity, he whispered a spell and tried to thrust his hand into the tree.

“Ha ha…”

Naturally, he failed completely.

Lin Jue was not discouraged at all—he was a beginner, after all, and had half-played the whole time. He shook his head, smiled, picked up his satchel, and continued forward.

…

Around mid-afternoon, the young scholar paused by the roadside and spoke to an old man working in the fields below:

“May I ask, sir, do you know Qiyun Mountain?”

“Qiyun Mountain? Of course I do!”

“Which way do I go?”

“Go this way.”

The old man pointed in a direction.

“This way?”

Lin Jue bent over and turned his head to look.

“Ah…”

“I came from this way.”

“Then you’re going the wrong way!”

“…”

Lin Jue shook his head and smiled, thanked the old man, and turned back.

When one’s spirits are high, even mistakes bring no gloom—only amusement at one’s own foolishness. He patted his head, nearly laughing out loud, yet his steps remained light.

Even though it was already growing late.

For those unfamiliar with the route, traveling by night was perfectly normal—

Lin Jue had delayed his departure that morning bidding farewell to the tree spirit, walked slowly, got lost halfway, turned back and wasted more time—so naturally, the sun had set before he reached his destination.

This was his second night traveling since leaving home two weeks ago.

But this time, his heart was far calmer.

First, the tree spirit had said this area was near Qiyun Mountain, so even in the wilds, fierce demons were rare. Second, the weather today had been excellent—clear skies, no rain expected tonight. After entering June, nights had grown warmer, so sleeping outdoors would not be cold.

Lastly, Lin Jue was no longer so afraid of demons or ghosts.

True enough, darkness fell halfway.

While there was still some light, Lin Jue found a dry, flat spot beside the road, tidied the ground slightly, sat down, and prepared to spend the night.

He had heard other travelers often had no choice but to sleep in the wilds. No guilt, no fear of ghosts—but most traveled in groups. Lin Jue was alone.

He wasn't particularly afraid anyway. He combined his hatchet and baton into a single weapon and placed it beside him, adding another layer of security.

So Lin Jue sat on the ground, eating his dry rations, watching the distant glow of sunset over mountains and rivers, listening to the wind sob and the forest rustle. When the time came, he closed his eyes and slept.

Yet somehow, he slept uneasily that night.

Probably because he had encountered too many spirits and demons lately, and now slept alone in the mountains—it was inevitable he dreamed of them.

In the dream, a young ghost bowed to him and said his coffin lay buried nearby. Over time, the earth had eroded, exposing part of it. A while ago, a troop of soldiers passed by; their warhorse accidentally broke through the path and crushed one corner of his coffin. Now it leaked wind and rain, and he had no choice but to beg Lin Jue to repair it.

“…”

When Lin Jue woke, the dream still clung to him, feeling as real as truth—but the wind blew, and the dream gradually faded.

He opened his eyes. All around was dark, save for the brilliant, countless stars above—a river of stars, a unique, magnificent dream woven from countless specks of light. He could not tell the exact time, but guessed it was around the fifth watch.

In Shu Village, he would have woken around now. He had slept early last night; it was natural he should wake now.

This was also the coldest hour of the night, so perhaps he had simply woken from the cold.

As for the dream—no need to dwell on it.

As for what happens in dreams, there is no need to take it seriously.

Lin Jue did not wish to travel now, yet had nothing to do, and still felt drowsy, so he lay back down and slept again.

But he had not expected the dream to return the moment he fell asleep.

In the dream, it was the same ghost.

“This is not a dream—not yours! I am truly a ghost! My tomb was truly crushed by a horse’s hoof! Please help me repair it! Don’t treat this as a joke! I’ve met so few people like you—if you won’t help, I may wait forever!”

“This is not a dream—no, it is a dream, but not one you dreamed yourself! I am truly a ghost; my house was indeed crushed by horses, and I beg you to help repair it. Do not dismiss me as nonsense! I’ve had such a hard time finding someone like you—if you cannot help me, I may wait forever!”

Lin Jue in the dream felt deeply puzzled.

“Someone like me? What kind of person? Why me?”

“Few travelers spend the night here. In recent days, only a handful have passed. Some have strong blood and qi—I dare not approach. Others have impure qi—I find them untrustworthy. Though I was lucky enough to become a ghost after death and avoid the underworld, my power is weak. You, sir, must have been in frequent contact with spirits and demons lately—your aura does not repel mine. That is why I dared—and could—come to you.”

“Few travelers spend the night on this road; in recent times, there have only been a few. Some have strong vital energy—I dare not approach them. Others have impure five-qi—I find them untrustworthy. Though I was lucky enough to become a ghost after death and never reached the Underworld, my spiritual power is weak. You, sir, must have frequently encountered spirits and demons lately; your aura does not repel mine, which is why I dared—and was able—to come to you.”

Lin Jue in the dream said nothing, feeling it was both real and unreal.

Dreams are always like this—hard to distinguish.

“You carry something strange. I smelled a faint fragrance of spiritual essence. If you agree to repair my tomb, I can tell you something beneficial.”

“You carry something unusual on your person—I sensed a faint fragrance of spiritual essence. If you agree to repair my house, I have a piece of good news to tell you.”

“You’ve agreed!” the ghost said, before Lin Jue could answer, and hurried on, “Today, in the mountains behind you, there is a mountain shaped like a mallet. The Mountain Lord is holding a feast, inviting all spirits who have cultivated peacefully and caused no chaos to study the newly acquired Yin-Yang Scripture. If you take this gift and visit, do not be disrespectful—the Mountain Lord will treat you as a guest. They say every feast has ‘Thousand-Day Wine.’ You will surely receive a cup. They say drinking it brings great benefit. Long ago, a spirit attended such a feast, drank the wine, and slept near my tomb. Merely smelling the lingering aroma and spiritual essence made me feel wonderful for days. A woodcutter once accidentally drank a drop and lived to old age, never sick, never in pain.”

“You have agreed!” said the ghost in the dream, but before Lin Jue could answer, he hurried on, “Today, in the mountains behind you, there is a mountain shaped like a hammer. The Mountain Lord is holding a banquet, inviting all spirits and demons who have cultivated peacefully and never caused chaos, to study the newly acquired Yin-Yang Scripture. If you take this item and go to pay your respects, do not be lacking in sincerity or propriety—the Mountain Lord will treat you as a guest. It is said that at every banquet, the Mountain Lord serves ‘Thousand-Day Wine.’ You will surely be given a cup. They say drinking it brings great benefits. Years ago, a spirit attended the banquet, drank the wine, and slept near my house afterward; merely smelling the lingering aroma and spiritual essence made me feel comfortable for days. A woodcutter once accidentally drank some while chopping wood on the mountain—he lived a full life, died peacefully in bed, and never suffered illness or pain.”

“Dawn is coming—I can’t say more. But if you help me, why would I deceive or harm you? A ghost would never do such a thing…”

“Dawn is coming—I cannot say more. But if you help me, why would I deceive or harm you? Even a ghost would not do such a thing…”

“Use wood and cloth to plug the gaps—keep out wind and rain.”

The moment he finished speaking, the dream vanished in panic, fading like any ordinary dream.

Lin Jue drifted in drowsiness for a while longer before fully waking.

He recalled the dream, pondering whether it was true or false, trying to grasp its fading details, struggling to keep the words from vanishing the moment he opened his eyes.

But as he opened his eyes and sat up, he heard footsteps ahead.

Lin Jue instantly tensed, turning his head—

His resting place was near the official road. In the dim light, shadows of trees and grass stretched across the path, mist rising—yet an old Daoist priest walked slowly toward him.

Not only the old Daoist—behind him followed a smaller figure.

Not only was there the old Daoist, but behind him followed a smaller figure.

Lin Jue quietly gripped his hatchet beside him.

Almost simultaneously, the old Daoist saw him.

Almost simultaneously, the old Daoist also saw him.

The old Daoist seemed startled by his reaction, stopped, and smiled warmly: “Little disciple, you sleep alone in the wilds without fear—why are you so tense at the sight of a Daoist?”

The figure behind him also stopped, glanced up at the Daoist, then turned to look at Lin Jue.

It was a young girl, leaning on a wooden staff, carrying a satchel.

She was a girl, leaning on a wooden stick, carrying a satchel.

The sky was dim; on the road, he unexpectedly met someone—a Daoist elder who wasn’t afraid, but she was somewhat frightened, so she widened her eyes and secretly glanced at Lin Jue.

“Are you a man or a ghost?”

Lin Jue’s mind moved quickly; he spoke with a counter-question.

“Of course I’m a man.”

“Why are you traveling in the dead of night?”

“Dead of night?”

The Daoist elder chuckled again, turned, and pointed eastward: “Young lay follower, take a look—dawn is nearly here.”

“Hm?”

Lin Jue looked—and indeed, it was true.

“The weather has been scorching lately. Once past noon, I’m fine, but my newly picked disciple—this girl—has struggled terribly walking. We can’t walk only in the morning, or we won’t cover much ground, so we’ve taken to rising at the fifth watch, like the local merchants.”

“Where are you coming from?” Lin Jue, quick-witted, knew there was no place ahead to buy or borrow lodging.

“Just like you, young lay follower—we slept by the roadside.”

“That makes sense, but if you’re just traveling, you could’ve walked past this spot. Why stop to talk to me so much?”

“Naturally, I feel a connection with you, young lay follower,” the Daoist elder smiled. “Don’t you feel the same? You feared we might be night-walking demons, yet seeing my Daoist robe, you suspected a karmic link—wanted to speak more, yet hesitated, afraid of missing the chance.”

“...”

“What else troubles you?”

“Nothing troubles me.”

Lin Jue said, decisive and straightforward.

“Huh?”

This caught the Daoist elder off guard.

The girl behind him also visibly froze.

“I am He Xianyu, Daoist title Yunhe Daoist, cultivating on a nearby mountain. I’m returning from visiting a friend and passed through here.” The Daoist elder bowed to him. “This is the girl I picked up in a village a few days ago. I felt a karmic bond with her and intend to take her home as my disciple.”

He turned to look at the girl.

“My name is Qingyao.”

The girl understood his gaze and quickly spoke.

“Lin Jue.”

“Meeting is fate. Dawn is coming—why not pack up, young lay follower? Let us travel together.”

“I would be delighted.”

Lin Jue rose, grabbed his things at random, slung his book satchel over his shoulder, and prepared to leave.

He took one step—then suddenly remembered something.

“Wait!”

Lin Jue halted abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

The Daoist elder looked at him, puzzled.

“...”

Lin Jue found himself unable to speak.

He still didn’t know if last night’s experience had been a dream—or if ghosts had truly appeared. How could he explain it to others?

He quickly set down his book satchel, strained to recall, then ran several steps to the spot the ghost had described in his dream and checked—

There, on the ground, was a real gap—exposing a section of coffin wood, crushed underfoot.

A hollow interior was faintly visible.

It was real...

“What’s wrong?”

It was a crisp female voice—the girl, imitating the Daoist elder’s tone, was staring at him curiously.

“It’s a long story...”

Lin Jue then told them everything from last night.