Chapter 576: To Study Is to Gain Daily; To Cultivate the Dao Is to Lose Daily

“Wife…”

In Yangzhou City, someone sat up in shock.

“What’s wrong, husband?”

“I had that dream again!”

“Huh? What dream?”

“You’ve forgotten? A year ago—the go board with the Heavenly Old Man.”

“Ah? That incident!” The woman paused a moment before remembering, “But I recall you saying it was the twenty-first day of the first month?”

“In the dream, I had the same question—he smiled and told me the twenty-first day of the first month was when he went to play go with that Heavenly Old Man, but in heaven, one day equals one year on earth; a single game might take one or two months, or even stretch into a full season, so he arrived late.”

“Is that possible!”

The woman, herself a great demon, was deeply startled.

“Then in the dream…”

“You know me—how could I resist? Naturally, I reviewed the game with him and analyzed the moves.” Master Gu said, “But his go skill this year has improved greatly compared to last year.”

…

In the Immortal Realm of Yuanqiu, among the green mountains and forested peaks, a bamboo hut with a thatched roof stood in a small courtyard, where an immortal tree bloomed.

Smoke curled faintly from the roof; voices drifted from within.

“Immortal Old Man, let’s begin.”

“Why the rush?” the old Daoist said. “I’ve just woken up—I must comb my hair, drink a cup of tea, and clear my thoughts before placing a stone.”

“Immortal Old Man, I’d be happy to wait, but your immortal realm operates strangely—here, one day equals one year outside. If we play too long, [19] half a year could slip away.”

Half a year could easily slip away.

“Aren’t you here to cultivate the Dao?”

“Yes…”

“Then why the haste? How much have you gained?”

“In response, Immortal Old Man, I’ve felt a faint resonance with the Dao.”

“Only a faint resonance, eh? Heheheh—these past days, every time you enter, you scrutinize my abode down to the last flower, blade of grass, stone, and pebble. I thought you’d already grasped the mystery of this realm…”

The Heavenly Old Man chuckled mockingly.

Lin Jue felt no shame. Cultivating the Dao required immense time; without a master to guide him, his self-realization had already progressed well. He remained calm and sincere:

“Immortal Old Man is right. Each time I enter, I do observe your realm closely, seeking its mystery. Yet even though every flower, blade of grass, stone, and pebble is etched in my mind, I can only conclude: ‘This immortal realm is no different from the outside world.’ The mystery is clearest only at the moment the realm opens—afterward, it grows hazy. Thus, my gains are limited.”

“Then why rush?”

The Heavenly Old Man asked again, then shook his head with a smile:

“To study is to gain daily; to cultivate the Dao is to lose daily. Stop thinking of all that. Calm your mind and play go with me. Perhaps, forgetting all those distractions, you’ll turn toward the Dao.”

“To study is to gain daily; to cultivate the Dao is to lose daily”—this is the distinction between technique and the Dao.

It means: when you learn a skill, your knowledge grows daily, your mind fills with more and more, and your art improves. But when you pursue the true essence of the Dao, you must simplify—reduce your knowledge, your perceptions, your biases. Daily, you subtract; what remains is the Dao’s essence.

Lin Jue thought for a moment, then shook his head:

“Very well. Take your time washing and dressing. I’ll clear my thoughts and play you a proper game.”

“Hahahaha! If today you can play me to one hundred and fifty moves… I’ve noticed you’re quite interested in those patterned horses outside. I’ll let you take one with you.”

“Excellent!”

An hour later, Lin Jue left the Yuanqiu Immortal Realm with a patterned horse.

…

Inside the Gu household in Yangzhou City.

“Husband, you woke today so weary—has it been time again for that immortal’s dream?”

“You know me best, wife.”

“This immortal is coming later and later.”

“Yes. His go skill grows sharper, and his games with the Heavenly Old Man last longer.” Master Gu shook his head. “Last night’s dream, he thanked me—thanks to our guidance, though he still cannot defeat the Heavenly Old Man, he won a patterned horse by sheer move count. Hey, do you know what a patterned horse is?”

“Patterned horse…”

The woman had read of it in ancient texts—

Patterned horse, also called Jihuang horse or Jiguang horse: crimson mane, white body, marked with patterns, eyes glowing golden like molten gold, capable of flying through clouds and skies, fierce temperament, feeding on tigers and leopards.

She had also heard that the warhorses of celestial soldiers and divine generals were bred from patterned horses.

Yet she had never seen one herself—only heard they were ancient rare beasts, now extinct on earth, kept only by a few immortals in their hidden paradises.

And a woman should not know such things.

“Husband, I don’t know.”

“Even a learned woman like you doesn’t know—then it must be an immortal artifact.”

“Perhaps…”

The woman grew troubled: “Just now you said… thanks to our guidance?”

“Yes! Though that immortal visits only once a year, we’ve met several times over the years. During our post-game chats, I naturally told him my wife is a superb go player—that every time I review the game in my dream, I replay it again with my wife upon waking. So in truth, you’ve contributed too.”

“This…”

“What’s wrong, wife?”

“How could I claim credit for your achievements…”

The woman brushed it off, but her thoughts were unsettled.

Could he truly be a “Heavenly Old Man”?

Could the visitor truly be an immortal?

But if he were truly a Heavenly Old Man, truly an immortal who played go with one, how could he not know the woman lying beside this man was a demon?

Times have truly changed—

Now, humans and demons are separate. To coexist is unthinkable; even a demon appearing in a human city is a grave sin.

“Husband, do you know who that immortal is?”

“How would I know?”

“You’ve met him several times over years—yet you don’t even know his name? Isn’t that absurd?”

“Why absurd? In dreams, one is lost in the go board—why ask for names? Let it be but a fleeting dream, what harm?”

“True…”

The woman said no more.

The sun and moon turned, the night sky shifted.

“Last night I had that dream again.”

“Same as before?”

“Same, but we spoke of other things.”

“What else?”

“He said he won several more patterned horses from the ‘Heavenly Old Man’—enough to breed and multiply. He was deeply grateful to us.”

“He also warned me our region will grow colder. He said I’m not as young as I once was, that I must care for my body—told me to wear more clothes morning and night, not to catch a chill. He even asked me to remind you to watch the weather.” I casually asked him where he was.

“Where was he?”

“He said he’s in Huizhou, living on Feilai Mountain.”

“Feilai Mountain? I’ve heard of it, but no one lives there.”

“Then I don’t know…”

Master Gu put on a thick coat.

He took another and draped it over his wife, urging her not to catch cold.

The husband and wife loved each other tenderly.

The seasons turned in order; the world’s winds and clouds shifted unpredictably.

“Husband, wake up. This year the Changhe suddenly changed course—three thousand li flooded. Refugees have reached us—we must serve porridge to the victims.”

“I know, I know…”

“You’re so weary—is it from worrying over the victims, or from dreaming of the immortal again?”

“I don’t know which…”

Master Gu suddenly looked at his wife:

“By the way! Last night, the immortal suddenly congratulated me—he said you’re pregnant!”

“This…”

The woman, of course, already knew—she could only pretend surprise.

…

Nothing in the world ever goes smoothly.

Just as in this mortal realm, after great peace comes great disaster.

For the past two or three decades, it was an age of prosperity rarely seen in history—external wars limited, internal order stable, the Emperor benevolent and kind, loving his people as his children, the common folk living in peace and contentment—even tales of demons and ghosts became distant legends. Yet who could have foreseen—a single storm, and the Changhe suddenly changed course, bringing chaos across three thousand li.

Do not underestimate the Changhe’s change of course.

This is the river that gave birth to civilization—but it is no gentle mother. It is wild, fickle, and furious. The Changhe’s shift is among the most enduring and terrifying disasters on this land.

For a thousand years, no matter the dynasty, the mortal court and the celestial spirits alike must prioritize one task above all: governing the Changhe.

On this land, as long as civilization has flourished, humanity has lived and struggled alongside the Changhe.

Every time it raged, it would divert rivers by two or three thousand li, kill over a million people, and even indirectly topple an entire dynasty.

The imperial court plunged into chaos.

The Da Yu Dynasty began its decline from peak prosperity.

Great calamities always came with demons and monsters—this needed no explanation.

Thus began the Purple Emperor’s second purge of demons and monsters.

But this time was different from the last.

Last time, the purge targeted only those demons and monsters that had committed evil deeds or carried malevolent qi.

This time, it went further: nearly all demons, spirits, and monsters that had intruded into the mortal realm were struck down without mercy.

The mortal court had also changed from the last time.

Sixty years ago, the founding emperor still reigned—upright, stern, capable of forcing even spirits to yield. Now, over a century after the dynasty’s founding, the martial blood and ferocity that once drove the emperor to conquer the world under saddle and spear had largely been worn away by comfort and ease. Throughout the court, few remained among the civil or military officials who possessed the same unyielding resolve as before. The emperor himself was benevolent and gentle, advanced in years; his benevolence and gentleness had diminished his iron will.

Every time such a great calamity struck, the pattern was much the same.

Rumors spread throughout the court and beyond the capital: the Son of Heaven lacked virtue and mercy, and that was why Heaven had sent down disaster.

This emperor truly was benevolent and gentle!

First, he issued an edict of self-reproach, confessing his faults to Heaven; then, with his aged body, he carried thorns on his back and personally knelt before Heaven, pleading and praying for the calamity to cease, for the disaster to be quelled, so his subjects would suffer no more.

As a result, combined with the Purple Emperor’s harshness, the mortal court soon lost the boldness it once had to challenge the spirits.

The Purple Emperor’s purge of demons and monsters became even more unchecked.

The Go master of Jiangnan knew nothing of this, for the Yellow River’s diversion had not reached Yangzhou, and under his wife’s management, his household was prosperous enough to weather the disaster. He knew only that the immortal still came once a year, meeting him in dreams to replay and analyze their games.