Chapter 4: Where Lies the Path to Immortal Dao?

"Virtue..."

"The Five Qi..."

"The Method of Calming the Soul..."

Lin Jue’s mind was foggy; recalling last night’s events, he felt it was half-true, half-illusion, like a dream.

He slowly walked back into the ancestral hall.

It was just before dawn; the sky had not yet fully brightened, though outside it was a clear blue, and the east had begun to pale—but inside the hall, darkness still clung, the floor a black void.

Not knowing what to do, he glanced down idly and could barely make out rubble and bricks, perhaps even the man’s belongings from last night. But the hall had always been empty; nothing worth taking, no reason to linger. He didn’t examine further, simply gathered his bedding under his arm, picked up his firewood axe and oil lamp, and walked out.

His steps felt light, almost floating.

Leaving the hall, he followed the narrow alley, and barely had he stepped out when a house door opened and a man emerged, staring at him in surprise.

"Good lad! You actually spent the night?"

"..."

Lin Jue turned to look at the man—he didn’t recognize him. After a moment’s thought, he realized this must be one of the Wang family’s watchers, sent to confirm whether they’d truly stayed in the hall. So he replied:

"Something like that..."

"I’ll take you to see the Old Master!"

He reached out and took the items from Lin Jue’s hands. Lin Jue gave him whatever he took. Finally, hearing "Follow me," he trailed behind.

With every step, the sky grew brighter.

By the time they returned to the Wang family’s old estate, the sun had risen in the east, and morning light had already crossed the hills.

Wang Laotaiye had already awakened, still seated in the master chair of the main hall, sipping morning tea as he watched them. The man recounted Lin Jue’s story, confirming he had indeed spent the night in the hall.

Wang Laotaiye was taken aback, raising his cup to look at Lin Jue.

"You truly slept there all night?"

"Old Master, I never left."

Lin Jue gazed at the old man and the spacious main hall, slowly returning to clarity, emerging from that half-real, half-illusory state.

It felt as if he were still dreaming.

"That man ran off in the middle of the night—yet you didn’t flee?"

"I didn’t flee..."

"I misjudged you!"

"..."

"Why so listless? Didn’t sleep all night, or was your mind bewitched by whatever was in the hall?" The old man turned to a woman beside him. "How do you treat guests? Pour the young man a cup of tea."

"Neither."

Lin Jue shook his head honestly.

"Then what’s wrong?"

"It just feels... like a dream..."

"So you saw that thing last night?" Wang Laotaiye set his cup down.

"I had dealings with it..." Lin Jue recalled the small figure he’d seen this morning, and the blurred, now-forgotten shape from his dream. He shook his head. "I never saw its true face."

"All guests are welcome. Don’t stand. Sit beside me and tell me in detail what happened last night—how you endured it."

"..."

Since demons and spirits truly existed, this respected elder, in his decades of life, must have encountered them before. Thus, upon learning one had come to his ancestral hall, he was not overly alarmed. Yet of the three who had spent the night in the hall—a scholar who saw nothing, and another who slept through the entire night and woke at dawn—the old man likely knew nothing of what had truly come to his hall, nor its appearance.

The woman brought Lin Jue a cup of tea. He thanked her, drank it down—the sharp bitterness, chrysanthemum fragrance, and layered flavors struck his tongue at once, jolting him fully awake.

"Old Master, no need to worry. That entity departed this morning. Your family’s ancestral shrine shall now be at peace."

"Departed?"

"Indeed."

"Oh? Why? Tell me in detail!"

"Last night, we..."

Lin Jue recounted everything truthfully.

Gradually, more people gathered in the main hall—likely favored or high-ranking descendants—eyes wide, mouths agape. Outside, others pressed against the doorframe, equally fascinated.

Lin Jue spoke patiently, slowly.

Only questions came, no interruptions.

He was forced to become ever more detailed.

Only held breaths, astonished gazes, occasional scrutinizing glances—no outright doubt.

"Finally, I woke up—just before dawn."

Lin Jue finished earnestly and sat still.

Wang Laotaiye sat in silence, still pondering the spirit’s final words to Lin Jue.

"..."

In the end, he said nothing, merely sipped his tea, then looked again at Lin Jue: "If that thing truly left, our Wang family owes you great thanks."

"Don’t say that." Lin Jue thought again, then spoke seriously and honestly: "It left today because first, your reward offer disturbed it; second, the scholar and the butcher—who are both dangerous—entered before me, making it feel troubled and hard to handle. My turn was merely the final spark. But it wasn’t just my doing alone."

"Heh..."

Wang Laotaiye smiled, then asked: "How old are you?"

"I’ve just reached the age of the dancing ox."

"Rare, rare indeed..."

Wang Laotaiye nodded repeatedly, then pondered:

"Today, I accept you spoke no lie, and that thing did not deceive you—it has truly departed. In any case, your merit is greatest.

"Since that demon spirit itself recognized your filial devotion to your uncle, and our Wang family is known in this region, we cannot be less honorable than a demon. Moreover, we are neighboring villages; your family suffers hardship. If we have any means, morally and emotionally, we must assist."

"Thus, since you two spent the night and only you did not flee, I shall give you the second half of the reward as thanks. Also, your uncle’s medical expenses shall be borne by our Wang family."

"What do you think?"

After hearing Lin Jue’s account of his conversation with the spirit, Wang Laotaiye had shifted from aloofness to deep respect—he now turned his head, seeking Lin Jue’s opinion.

"Thank you, Old Master."

Lin Jue rose quickly and bowed.

Humility was humility, honesty was honesty—this matter could not be refused.

Wang Laotaiye studied him, and the more he looked, the more he felt Lin Jue was extraordinary. He added: "Change it to twenty taels of silver—easier for him to carry."

"Thank you, Old Master."

"Don’t rush home. Our Wang family has a fine meal prepared for you—eat before you leave."

"I deeply appreciate it. I’ve been gone all night—my family must be worried. Besides, my uncle lies ill, suffering terribly; my aunt and cousin tend to him day and night, enduring hardship, cutting back on food. How could I dare feast here?"

Lin Jue immediately declined.

"Good."

Wang Laotaiye still smiled, waving his hand: "Then prepare the food and wine—deliver it to your home later."

"It would be rude to refuse..."

"Should you need help in the future, come to our door."

"Thank you, Old Master."

Lin Jue had nothing more to say, only repeated his thanks.

After that hazy night, he now carried three strips of honeycomb silver—ten taels each. The extra strip was for medicine; it weighed heavily, tugging at his coarse cloth robe. Bathed in bright daylight, stepping out of the Wang estate, Lin Jue felt an indescribable sense of possession.

Walking with light, floating steps back to Shu Village, the surreal feeling from last night had not faded with the joy of wealth—it grew stronger with time, becoming ever more wondrous.

A sense of unreality, as if from another world.

Passing the Lower Bridge Pavilion on the way into the village, he turned the corner and saw the village elder and the children again.

Perhaps from lack of sleep, perhaps from the mental toll of battling the spirit, or perhaps from the fatigue of seeing this world’s hidden face, Lin Jue involuntarily stopped, leaning against the wall, staring blankly in that direction.

The village elder still spoke of gods and demons.

The children still listened intently.

The tale reached Lin Jue’s ears, instantly merging with every story he’d ever heard, swirling into his mind.

Foxes, spirits, good and evil, deities.

Cultivation, magic, immortals, eternal life.

A single Golden Core ascends to heaven;

One wicked deed descends to earth.

Half-true, half-false, real and illusory—existing only in human tongues.

The flavor of such tales cannot be captured in words alone; their essence can only be felt by the heart—not thrilling, not logically rigorous, but strange and romantic, vivid and moving.

Lin Jue stood there, entranced, listening—yet his mind still could not help pondering that question—

What kind of world is this?

If demons exist, do ghosts exist too? If ghosts exist, do immortals and Buddhas exist? Do the Buddhist realms of three thousand worlds exist? Do the Daoist paths of free and eternal life exist?

Then how should I seek them?

Where, then, is the path to immortal Dao?

And where can I find the Method of Calming the Soul?

He didn’t know how he returned home; he saw his aunt and also visited his uncle, briefly recounting the events of last night and the thirty taels of silver, and after his aunt’s worried warnings, he finally returned to his room.

The room was humble, yet it was a place of peace.

No sooner had he lain down than, as he pondered his spirit journey and felt his head grow heavy, he suddenly sensed something was amiss.

He turned his head to look—

Beside him, a book of ancient origin had appeared out of nowhere.

It had no title.

It was a book he had never seen before.

Lin Jue froze for a moment, then suddenly remembered: this morning, when he had risen and gone out, then returned to the ancestral hall, he had seemed to glimpse something book-like in the darkness—square and rectangular—but back then, the dim light had made it unclear, and he had assumed it was left by last night’s stranger; moreover, his mind had been foggy and full of thoughts, so he had ignored it, taking only the bedding, the hatchet, and the oil lamp before leaving.

He wasn’t sure if it was the same object.

Lin Jue could not help but pick it up.

“Shhh…”

As he flipped through it at random, every page was blank.

Only the first page bore writing.

It read: Exhale

A method commonly used by spirits and demons.