Chapter 1: The Daoist Descends the Mountain

A string of Five Emperors coins hung high from the eaves of the dilapidated temple, the characters facing inward and the coin faces pointing upward.

The mottled, thin string seemed unable to bear the heavy burden of the copper coins, much like this Maoshan wild temple that was now left with only one person to guard it.

The walls were collapsed, the gate was ruined, and desolation met the eye everywhere.

The side room next to the main hall of the wild temple was pushed open with a creak, the poorly maintained wooden door emitting a teeth-gritting sound.

A young Daoist in a cyan Daoist robe stepped out suddenly; the simple and ancient wooden hairpin holding his hair in a bun only served to highlight his clear brows, bright eyes, and elegant, refined appearance.

Facing the faint morning sunlight, the young Daoist sighed toward the sky, seemingly unable to wake from the bizarre shock of his transmigration.

Where the hell did this bring him?

This former top public relations firm boss from his past life had been battling at a drinking table just a second ago, struggling to hold his own, when a cup of aged liquor went down his throat and into his belly, leaving him with a splitting headache!

Then, upon opening his eyes...

He had already possessed the body of this young Daoist in the Maoshan wild temple.

He closed his eyes, feeling the scriptures, prophecies, and Bagua principles filling the original owner's mind, finding them increasingly absurd and inexplicable.

A voice suddenly came from before the temple gate, inquiring: "Daoist Priest Lu? Are you ready to go?"

"Wait a moment."

Lu Kuan gathered his focus to digest the situation for a moment; looking at the production assistant before him, he knew this person had come to take him—who shared the same name—to the film crew.

He turned back to the side room to pack his meager belongings, the original details of this mundane task surfacing in his mind.

Zhang Jizhong was filming the Zhou Xun version of *The Legend of the Condor Heroes* in Wuxi's Water Margin City and needed a religious consultant.

The Daoists in the show belonged to the Complete Perfection lineage, and all religious attire, language, and principles required guidance from a specialist.

But since Maoshan was the ancestral home of the Supreme Clarity sect, they had searched through dozens of large and small Daoist temples before finding his predecessor, a Complete Perfection practitioner guarding a broken temple alone.

Of course, the cyan Daoist robe represented a mid-level Complete Perfection master, which was also affordable and convenient for the crew; they just needed to ensure that when the TV series was submitted for review, the Religious Affairs Bureau wouldn't find any errors or omissions.

The wild temple's incense was sparse, and the young Daoist had nothing to his name; after a simple cleanup, Lu Kuan closed the temple gate and followed the production assistant toward the car.

Not far away, below the steps overgrown with weeds, sat a ragged middle-aged man who muttered to himself as he watched the young Daoist approach.

The former PR boss ignored him, knowing this was just a local mad Daoist who treated the sky as his quilt and the earth as his mat, living out the rest of his life by begging for food.

The mad Daoist habitually stepped forward to beg for food, but upon catching a glimpse of the young Daoist's refined and clear eyes, he grabbed his forearm as if he had seen a ghost!

"Who are you?! You are not Lu Kuan!"

The *Legend of the Condor Heroes* production assistant glanced over suspiciously and reached out to drive him away, but was stopped by the young Daoist.

"No need! He is just mentally unwell; let him be."

Lu Kuan glanced at him indifferently, though a stormy sea surged in his heart.

The two walked forward, and suddenly, two lines of delirious muttering accompanied by morning Daoist rhythm came from the mad Daoist behind them.

"Startled by the dream of a floating life, in refining the heart, do not forget the return!"

The engine of the *Legend of the Condor Heroes* crew's Istana started; Lu Kuan looked through the car window at the mad Daoist's lonely figure in the mountains, ruminating on his crazy words, and couldn't help but let out a long sigh.

A floating life dream, or the schemes of the present world—it matters not.

Since he had come back for this round, he would at least live it differently.

——

A Su-B licensed Istana drove into Wuxi's Water Margin City and, after showing a pass, parked at the filming base next to "Qingming Shanghe Street."

The *Legend of the Condor Heroes* crew had filmed their first scene here yesterday, "Mu Nianci Rescues Yang Kang," attracting many fans to watch.

The production assistant got out of the car with a fawning smile, leading the man of the cloth in the indigo Daoist robe, and hurried into the studio to avoid the light rain.

"Young Daoist, please wait a moment; I will go notify the producer and director."

"Very well."

Lu Kuan stood in the studio, reaching out to block the scattered raindrops.

Returning to 2001 as if waking from a great dream felt just like the rain on the stone-paved street and the rising mist before him—

Reflecting on the past, it was as empty as a dream; joys and sorrows were manifold, and meetings and partings were like smoke.

At this moment, in the noisy and complex film crew, against the bustling background, this young Daoist with a refined, bone-deep air and a crane-feather cloak stood out, seemingly as out of place as a Daoist entering the mortal world to refine his heart, catching the attention of two actresses waiting for their scenes.

You stand here watching the scenery, and the person watching the scenery is also watching you from not far away.

"Young Daoist, are you with our crew?"

A delicate and soft inquiry caused him to turn his head, and his eyes met two beautiful women in ancient costumes with bright eyes and white teeth.

Zhou Xun had a lithe figure and exquisite, lively features; her temperament and silhouette could be described as the essence of nature.

Jiang Qinqin was even more delicate and lovely, her ink-black eyes filled with emotion and her nose straight and peaked, living up to the stage name "Shuiling" (Water Spirit) given to her by Qiong Yao.

"Greetings to you both. My name is Lu Kuan, and I am the religious consultant hired by your crew."

Zhou Xun and Jiang Qinqin looked at each other, then simultaneously looked up to examine his face as he turned back.

His face was thin and sharp, his pair of star-like eyes distant, deep, and bright.

Although the cyan Daoist robe was old, it could not hide his tall and handsome figure; instead, it added a touch of otherworldly aura.

Jiang Qinqin was a girl from Shancheng with a straightforward personality; she looked Lu Kuan up and down and teased, "Your physical appearance is better than many male stars. Coming to the entertainment industry, you'll surely have a way to make a living."

Lu Kuan had indeed worked in the entertainment industry in his past life, though he had been the boss of a PR firm.

From the Beijing Film Academy to the University of Southern California in his past life, his dream of being a director had been shattered time and again, forcing him to take this job, but he hadn't expected to actually make something of it.

Right up until he died suddenly at the drinking table and transmigrated back more than 20 years ago...

Zhang Jizhong and director Ju Jueliang were discussing the script in a temporary office set up by the crew and looked over when they heard the commotion outside.

"Fanyao, is this the young Daoist from Maoshan? He's a bit too young!"

Production manager Meng Fanyao said slyly, "Director Zhang, on one hand, we need to handle the feng shui, and on the other, we still need to do the accounting; we definitely have to find someone who is both good and cheap!"

Good heavens, he had only heard of accounting-type vanguard commanders; he hadn't expected there to be an accounting-type Daoist used for taking kickbacks here.

Any film or television drama involving religious parts had to be approved by the relevant departments; this was just using the name of a religious consultant fee to scrape money from the investors.

Ju Jueliang was from Xiangjiang and believed most in these strange and supernatural tales within the crew, so he immediately smiled and said, "Old Meng, this money cannot be saved; there have been quite a few troubles lately."

Zhang Jizhong sighed inwardly; it was more than just "quite a few"—the problems with *The Legend of the Condor Heroes* hadn't stopped since the day filming began.

From the food poisoning incident when the *Legend of the Condor Heroes* crew rushed to Saihanba to start filming in August, to encountering a typhoon after moving to Peach Blossom Island.

After the original director Wang Rui was fired by Zhang Jizhong due to filming schedule issues, Ju Jueliang, who had directed the 1992 Xiangjiang version of *The Book and the Sword*, became the firefighter.

He had thought it would be smooth sailing after these natural and man-made disasters, but he hadn't expected Li Yapeng to cause more trouble.

Last night, Brother Jing took Rong'er to relax at the Tangcheng Dance Hall in Wuxi, got into a dispute with a group of merchants from Yancheng, and beat them up.

The news had been blocked by Zhang Jizhong; fortunately, there was no self-media in this era, so it hadn't spread yet.

The rain outside the studio grew heavier; Lu Kuan entered the temporary office to sign the contract, and Zhou Xun and the others were also called in to discuss how to clean up the mess.

On one side was a discussion around the stove with solemn expressions, and on the other was the light turning of paper pages with a carefree air.

Ju Jueliang couldn't hold back his impatience and whispered a suggestion: "Director Zhang, the crew has indeed been plagued by trouble lately."

"How about... we ask this young Daoist to take a look at the layout?"

Zhang Jizhong tilted his head to look at this young Daoist who was all show, not holding out much hope.

But since Ju Jueliang had brought it up, he couldn't just reject him.

"It's raining hard outside, and we can't film for the time being anyway; let's just give it a try."

Ju Jueliang, being humble to the talented, stood up to chat with him for a few words and invited him over to talk.

Zhang Jizhong looked at the overly young Lu Kuan and asked curiously, "How old is the young Daoist, and what is your Daoist name?"

The words were polite, but his manner didn't take him seriously.

He was an accounting-type Daoist, after all; cheap goods are never good, so how much respect could there be?

Lu Kuan said sternly, "Director Zhang, I am nineteen this year."

As for the Daoist name...

"You may all call me Changfeng."

Although today was not a visit to the Old Heavenly Master, he would just temporarily borrow the name of Wang Ye from Wudang.

A Daoist name is either bestowed by a master or a posthumous title from a disciple.

The original owner of this young Daoist body had inherited the mantle of his deceased master and received the Daoist lineage; although the incense at the broken temple was almost extinguished, he could be considered a flower blooming from a crack in a stone.

Relying on this cyan Daoist robe and a glib tongue to engage in some swindling and fortune-telling, he had barely managed to support his livelihood.

Now that it had been possessed by an extraterrestrial demon who was also a clever PR boss, it would likely be even harder to distinguish truth from falsehood from now on.

The people in the room all savored this unusual Daoist name, which felt completely different from names like Pure Yang or Longchun; paired with his otherworldly temperament, a sense of religious mystery spontaneously arose.

Meng Fanyao turned back and closed the door: "Daoist Priest Lu, the crew has had many troubles lately; do you think you could adjust our feng shui layout or something?"

Lu Kuan was indifferent for a moment; standing tall and straight, he looked at the hazy rain outside the room and shook his head: "That is not according to the rules. I am only responsible for the religious affairs of the crew; I dare not inquire about the rest."

Zhang Jizhong remained calm, while the Xiangjiang director Ju Jueliang stepped forward with a fawning smile: "Please, young Daoist, do not hesitate to give us some pointers."

Lu Kuan nodded slightly and took his hands out.

Actually, he had just been warming them; the winter in the Jiang-Zhe-Hu region was truly not meant for humans, and the cold, damp "magic damage" was well-deserved.

Jiang Taigong goes fishing, and the willing take the bait.

Since the fish were eager to jump, why shouldn't he offer some guidance?

The young Daoist had a solemn expression; he paced the floor with measured steps, stopping occasionally to observe the layout and at other times focusing to sense the flow of Qi.

He pointed a finger toward a direction: "The Northeast Gen position is for the mountain, which governs stability, but the energy field here is slightly chaotic."

"And this corner of the wall, diagonally opposite the main filming position, is actually a sharp-corner evil spirit; the evil energy striking directly is prone to causing accidents, so one must be cautious!"

Lu Kuan glanced through the window frame at the stacked prop boxes: "These weapon props should be placed in the Qian position to manifest righteous masculine energy and ward off evil spirits. But now they are in disarray, leading to chaotic energy and scattered spirits."

The people in the room were astonished; Zhou Xun and Jiang Qinqin's eyes shone with brilliance, while the rest of the crew, from Zhang Jizhong down, were half-believing.

The young Daoist with the air of an immortal sighed: "There are errors and omissions almost everywhere."

He stood still at one spot: "This is the center of the entire house, called the Taiji point. The position where the main entrance faces the Taiji point is the upper trigram, and the position where Zhang Dao sits is the lower trigram; we use this to determine the fortune of wealth and official career."

"Direct west is Dui, direct north is Kan; upper Dui and lower Kan make the Kun hexagram."

Ju Jueliang was the most superstitious; his face turned deathly pale, and he was already becoming impatient: "What is the interpretation?"

"Great misfortune!"

(End of chapter)