Chapter 32: Becoming a Disciple of Yishan

At that moment, the old Daoist spoke first.

“It seems fate has brought us together. I set out on this journey intending to take a disciple. I originally thought I might have a connection with Qingyao, but before I even found her, I had already heard of you, young layman.”

“When exactly?”

Lin Jue felt deeply puzzled.

“After I exorcised the demons in Qiuru, on my way to Danxun, I met a layman surnamed Wei. He said demons plagued his home and asked me to come see. When I arrived in Danxun, I first visited the City God Temple to inquire about the situation. I had no intention of getting involved—until, by chance, I passed near his place and decided to take a look.”

Lin Jue found this astonishing.

“Which day was that?”

“The very day you exorcised the demon.”

“So that’s how it was…” Lin Jue grew even more amazed. “Truly, fate has bound us.”

“You have a touch of knight-errant spirit. You’ve only practiced Qi-nourishing methods for a few years, yet you dared to enter the Wei household to exorcise demons.”

“It’s complicated.”

Lin Jue sighed, then spoke:

“It was all because Wei Yuanzhong was cunning. He used the fact that I had slain two strange monkeys in Danxun as an excuse to strike up conversation, invited me to eat, and I thought—he thought highly of my courage. By the time I realized it, I’d already eaten the food, drunk the wine, and my clothes had been taken off to be washed. If I refused, I’d lose face.”

“Second, I had already seen ghosts and demons in my village, and again on my journey seeking the Dao. I didn’t just survive through courage—I moved calmly because of it. That courage must not be lost.”

“Besides, his elder brother once lent me his blade.”

“Lastly, I simply wanted to see a demon.”

“You do have some courage,” the old Daoist asked. “Then why did you dare slay that monkey outside the city?”

“That monkey damaged my books and luggage—it enraged me.”

“Just because of books and luggage, you risked your life?”

“You don’t understand, Master. My family is poor. My books and their contents were all gifts from others. My water flask was made by my uncle himself. When those monkeys ruined them, if I didn’t strike back… well, it’s not much, but my heart simply couldn’t bear it! Besides, there were martial folk with me—what was wrong with acting?”

“You’ve got a bit of the wandering spirit,” the old Daoist shook his head. “Do you know, I heard your name even earlier than this?”

“Hmm?”

“Two days before this, as I traveled along the official road, I passed through a desolate bamboo grove. I stayed overnight at a temple with a caravan and heard an interesting tale.”

The old Daoist smiled.

The girl beside him widened her eyes, glancing at Lin Jue.

“They say that not long ago, one night, a young scholar startled off a ghost on the road, returned a merchant’s lost mule, and the temple monks, impressed by his boldness and kindness, let him sleep alone in the pavilion. The pavilion’s demon, likewise moved by his courage and kindness, spent the whole night chatting with him, then entrusted him with its bones and some silver. They assumed he was trustworthy—but the next day, they found he had taken all the silver, leaving nothing behind.”

“I had my reasons! Didn’t their families come back to look for them?”

Lin Jue frowned, puzzled.

“So those two ghosts cursed at the temple for two nights straight—everyone could hear them—and they scrawled poems on the walls to insult him. But within two days, their families arrived, saying they’d already found the buried silver, and explained why the scholar took it all. They dug up the bones and took them home. The temple still talks about it—no one knows what those two ghosts thought.” The old Daoist continued. “Before you took all the silver, didn’t you consider you might be misunderstood?”

“I was desperate then. I dug it up secretly, afraid someone would see—I had no time to think much. Perhaps I was careless. But I am at peace with my choice.”

“That peace of mind is rare indeed.”

The old Daoist smiled faintly, walking slowly: “But what if their families took the silver and never returned to move their bones?”

“That would be their family’s fault, not mine. Besides, this place is not far from Qiyun Mountain or my home. My life is long—I’ll return someday. If they never came to retrieve the bones, since I took their offered travel money, wouldn’t it be right to carry their bones back myself?”

“I see…”

Lin Jue still frowned, pondering what the old Daoist meant—he suspected the answer already.

“Seeking immortality and the Dao is hard enough, but to attain true freedom and eternal life is far harder,” the old Daoist sighed, looking at the young scholar as if seeing his younger self.

“One must seek it anyway.”

“Do you know the three main paths of cultivation in this world?”

“No.”

“One: Talismanic Arts. Two: Elixir Alchemy. Three: Spirit Methods.”

“Talismanic Arts, Elixir Alchemy, Spirit Methods?”

Lin Jue silently memorized the three terms.

“Qiyun Mountain is indeed a rare immortal peak—but it is one of the holy sites of the Talismanic Arts sect.”

“Please, Master, instruct me.”

“‘Freedom’ and ‘eternal life’—two words,” the old Daoist said. “The Talismanic Arts sect venerates deities. Perhaps they may attain divine rank and extended life—but they are never truly free.”

“Is that so…”

“The Elixir Alchemy sect and the Spirit Methods sect are similar—they cultivate the self. Today, the Talismanic Arts sect dominates, while the other two are in decline. Elixir Alchemy is the oldest tradition, emphasizing internal and external elixirs, usually practicing deep in mountains, ignoring worldly affairs. Spirit Methods is a later path—older than Elixir Alchemy but younger than Talismanic Arts. It also cultivates the self, but does not refine internal or external elixirs. Instead, it cultivates Spirit Methods, mastering techniques.”

Hearing this, Lin Jue knew his choice.

“Where can one seek the Spirit Methods Dao?”

“Yishan.”

“Yishan…”

Lin Jue paused, then asked: “Master, is your peak…?”

“Mount Fuxiu of Yishan. The Fuxiu Pavilion. I am its abbot.”

“… ”

Lin Jue stopped dead, eyes wide.

At this point, he understood—this old Daoist meant to take him as a disciple.

He must have overheard Lin Jue speaking with the tree demon in Danxun County, and realized he was the same scholar he’d heard about two days prior in the temple. Lin Jue had taken ten days to arrive; the old man had only waited two.

Their meeting on the road, their climb up the mountain—whether deliberate or accidental, Lin Jue now saw it all as the old Daoist’s test. This conversation was the inquiry after the trial.

His earlier doubts had vanished entirely.

Qiyun Mountain was unsuitable for him. Here, before him, stood the abbot of a true Daoist pavilion with authentic transmission—and he hadn’t known.

And this old Daoist had tested him—

That was good.

A place that tests a disciple’s character could ease all his fears about an unknown cultivation path.

“I wish to become your disciple! To follow you in seeking the Dao and immortality!” Lin Jue said.

“Are you certain?”

“I am!”

“Your talent is high—you have character, wisdom, boundless potential. Your ambition is great. But our Fuxiu Peak is not so lofty. My life is short—I have only a few years left. Know this: if you truly seek immortality and the Dao, I and Fuxiu Peak can only guide you partway. You will never find what you seek here.”

“I will never regret it.”

“Good, good! But tell me—if you truly seek freedom and eternal life, which pavilion in this world could ever contain you?”

The old Daoist smiled, then continued walking: “Then come with me to Fuxiu Peak on Yishan. When we reach the pavilion, you two will perform the master-apprentice ceremony—only then will you become my disciples.”

“Understood.”

Lin Jue’s heart was filled with something hard to name.

He finally had a master—a place where he could learn Daoist arts and techniques—and now, for the first time, he could stand on a higher vantage point and truly see the world.

Hope and unease stirred within him.

…

The old Daoist’s name was He Xianyu; his Dao name was Yunhe Daoist.

The girl was Qingyao, from Liucun in Quru County; she too bore the surname Liu.

Lin Jue followed the old Daoist toward Yishan. Since he was to become his disciple, he naturally took on the duties of gathering firewood, lighting fires, fetching water, and asking directions—tasks he would have done alone anyway.

The girl spoke little. She looked young, delicate, frail—but she did these tasks too.

When Lin Jue gathered firewood, she gathered too. When he lit the fire, she watched it. When he fetched water, she carried the water bag behind him, as if unwilling to let him do it alone—or as if competing with him, determined not to fall behind.

Lin Jue often asked the old Daoist about cultivation.

The old Daoist had no airs; he spoke as naturally as any man.

He learned the old Daoist had originally come down the mountain with a disciple, first attending the grand ritual at Qiyun Mountain, then traveling alone to visit old friends from his youth in other prefectures, and only now returning.

He had intended to take a disciple along the way—unexpectedly, he took the girl, then met Lin Jue.

That evening, beside a remote mountain path.

Lin Jue sat cross-legged beneath an ancient tree.

Before him lay a pile of cooled embers, several split bamboo tubes, faint traces of cooked food inside—proof the three had eaten well.

Night had deepened. Lin Jue did not practice Qi-nourishing methods; instead, he felt the spiritual resonance of wood through the tree’s shade.

The “Earth-Wood Essence” rested in his chest.

Indeed, it worked. Merely carrying it, the essence naturally emitted earth and wood spiritual essence. When he entered the state he often reached during Qi-nourishing, he could sense its subtle spiritual depth—weighty, steady, brimming with boundless vitality.

Slowly, the scent of aged wood drifted from the tree behind him. The night wind rustled the leaves, as if tracing the shape of its branches.

With the old Daoist beside him, Lin Jue felt no fear of demons or ghosts on the road.

He sensed his “Wood Stealth Technique” was beginning to take root.

According to the old Daoist, all these were Spirit Methods techniques.

He wondered what powers Elixir Alchemy and Talismanic Arts held.

Unaware, his mind slipped into slumber—and the night passed.

At dawn, the diligent girl had already fetched water. After washing, they continued their journey.

In just a few days, they neared Yishan.

The place was indeed remote—the roads had shrunk to narrow paths.

Yunhe Daoist led them through dense forest, up a small slope, and pointed to the distant mountains: “There lies Yishan. In ancient times, the Red Emperor once forged elixirs here.”

"Red Emperor..."

"Do you see that mountain peak shaped like a pair of scissors? The one beside it is our Fuqiu Peak."

"I see it."

Lin Jue looked up, feeling it was very tall.