“Senior Brother, something terrible happened! Master, he…”
The tea had just reached Yue Jingming’s lips when he saw his youngest junior brother, Fang Jingyi, practically tumble through the doorway. One foot landed on the threshold while one hand clutched the doorframe, as though he might pass out at any moment. “Master… Senior Brother… Master, he…”
“Put your foot down and stand properly.” Yue Jingming set his cup on the table. “What happened to Master?”
Fang Jingyi hurriedly straightened up. He glanced at Yue Jingming somewhat fearfully before lowering his head again. “Master was in Yuheng Hall divining the workings of Heaven. Second Senior Brother, Third Senior Sister, and the others were guarding him while he worked, but then they suddenly heard him roar from inside, and blood splattered all over the windows!”
Yue Jingming frowned. “Is Master still alive?”
“Huh? He… he should still be alive.” Fang Jingyi was startled by the way he phrased the question. “Second Senior Brother and the others wanted to go inside and check, but before Master entered the hall, he ordered that no one was to enter until the appointed time. Senior Brother, you only just came out of seclusion, and Master specifically told us not to disturb your peace, but now the others really don’t know what to do…”
Before he could finish speaking, the man who had been sitting at the table was already gone. A cool breeze swept past, leaving behind only Yue Jingming’s frosty words: “Straighten your hair crown.”
“Senior Brother, wait for me!” Fang Jingyi hastily adjusted his crown and chased after him with all his might.
Yuheng Hall stood on the rear mountain, some distance from Qingsong Residence. As Yue Jingming passed the main hall, he saw quite a few unfamiliar disciples, presumably newcomers who had joined the sect during his ten years in seclusion. Upon seeing the jade pendant at his waist, they all stopped to salute him. He acknowledged them with a nod but did not linger.
The steps leading to Yuheng Hall had been replaced with new stone, and even the star-chart formation he had laid ten years ago had been changed. Yue Jingming swept his gaze over it before walking to the doors of the hall.
“Senior Brother!”
“Senior Brother!”
Those keeping watch outside the hall were all Su Ji’s personal disciples, and they could scarcely conceal their excitement when they saw Yue Jingming arrive. At their head stood a man and a woman. The man, Zhu Jinghui, had swordlike brows and a high nose, while the woman, Xin Jingleng, possessed delicate, refined features. They were the Second Senior Brother and Third Senior Sister Fang Jingyi had mentioned. Both wore dark-blue Daoist robes and solemn expressions, but the moment Yue Jingming appeared, they visibly relaxed.
“Master is inside?” Yue Jingming reached for the door.
“Senior Brother.” Zhu Jinghui raised an arm to stop him. “Master instructed us that no one is allowed inside.”
Xin Jingleng said, “But we don’t even know whether Master is alive or dead.”
“Junior Sister, are you saying you want to defy Master’s orders?” Zhu Jinghui raised his voice.
“Jinghui.” Yue Jingming lifted a hand and rested it against his arm. “There’s no need to keep guarding this place. Take the junior disciples and go practice.”
Zhu Jinghui was about to object when an indescribable force suddenly came through his forearm, compelling him to retreat a step. To an outside observer, it merely looked as though he had lightly shifted position, but he could clearly feel the tremendous weight behind that touch. Yue Jingming’s seemingly casual gesture contained the most exquisite principles of the Zushan Sect’s Taixu Heart Method. Zhu Jinghui circulated his cultivation to resist it, yet it was utterly useless. That gentle stream of true qi instead surged straight through the meridians that had been blocked for months and opened them.
Yue Jingming paused as he stepped through the doorway and turned to look at him. “Zhu Jinghui, what exactly have you been doing for the past ten years?”
His voice was perfectly calm, as though this were nothing more than an ordinary exchange between fellow disciples. But after their brief confrontation just now, Zhu Jinghui naturally understood the cold rebuke beneath those words. His face alternated between red and white, humiliation and anger churning inside him, yet all he could do was watch Yue Jingming enter the hall.
Just then, Fang Jingyi finally caught up. He had not even managed to catch his breath when Zhu Jinghui’s shout nearly scared half the life out of him. “Who told you to go get Senior Brother?!”
“Huh?” Fang Jingyi stared at him blankly. “Wasn’t it Second Senior Brother who said…”
“All of you, get the hell back to sword practice!” Zhu Jinghui roared.
Zhu Jinghui flung his sleeves and stormed off. The disciples who had gathered outside the hall exchanged bewildered looks before following him. Fang Jingyi, bringing up the rear, turned to Xin Jingleng with a miserable expression. “Third Senior Sister.”
Xin Jingleng raised a finger and tapped her temple, then curled her lip before walking away.
Inside the hall.
A man sat cross-legged at the center of a Bagua formation. His hair and beard were completely white, yet his face looked no older than a young man’s. His long robes, however, were soaked in filthy blood. A half-unfurled scroll hovered in the air before him. Any master of internal cultivation would immediately have seen what was extraordinary about it: the scroll was being held steadily aloft by true qi, something impossible for anyone without profound cultivation.
The scroll had originally opened only halfway, but as another current of true qi joined the first, the reversed flow of qi through Su Ji’s meridians finally gained some relief, and the half-open scroll slowly unfurled the rest of the way.
Su Ji opened his eyes. Sure enough, his eldest disciple was sitting cross-legged opposite him. He could not help sighing inwardly. Such is fate.
Once the scroll was fully unfurled, master and disciple withdrew their cultivation at the same time, and the scroll gently settled onto the floor.
Yue Jingming rose and bowed respectfully. “This disciple entered the hall without permission. Master, please punish me.”
Su Ji raised a hand, signaling him to rise. “I don’t blame you. Your master simply overestimated his own ability.”
“Why did Master choose this moment to divine the workings of Heaven?” Yue Jingming walked over and helped him to his feet.
“A few days ago, while observing the heavens, I saw the omen of Mars guarding the Heart.” Su Ji looked toward the scroll. “The Ziwei Star is waning, strange stars are appearing one after another, the imperial purple qi within the Mountains and Rivers Scroll has grown faint, and demonic qi is spilling everywhere. I fear a great calamity is approaching, and all under Heaven will descend into chaos.”
Elio’s Notes: “Mars guarding the Heart” (荧惑守心) is an ominous configuration in traditional Chinese astrology in which Mars appears near the stars of the Heart mansion. Historically, it could be interpreted as an omen of upheaval affecting the ruler or state. The Ziwei Star also carries strong associations with imperial authority, making the combination especially dire.
Yue Jingming frowned. “His Majesty has always governed diligently and loved the people as his own children. How could the heavens show such an omen?”
“Not long after you entered seclusion, His Majesty fell gravely ill and passed away. Crown Prince Lie succeeded him. Since ascending the throne, he has ordered massive construction projects throughout the realm, corruption has run rampant everywhere, and he has even committed such absurdities as taking men into the imperial harem as consorts.” Su Ji sighed. “The common people are suffering terribly.”
Yue Jingming froze. “You mean Zhou Lie?”
“Precisely,” Su Ji said. “During these past ten years, he has summoned you to the palace several times, and I stopped every summons. That man is violent by nature and acts with outrageous unpredictability. A month ago, another imperial envoy came to Zushan specifically to wait for you to emerge from seclusion.”
Yue Jingming’s gaze darkened.
“But I chased them all away.” Su Ji stroked his beard, a teasing smile appearing on his face.
A trace of surprise entered Yue Jingming’s eyes. “Master?”
Su Ji turned and headed toward the rear hall. “Jingming, you grew up on Zushan. Your natural talent is exceptional, and your heart is both pure and steadfast. If you devote yourself to cultivation, given enough time, you will surely attain the Great Dao.”
Yue Jingming silently followed behind him.
Zhou Lie was ruthless and vindictive, the sort who repaid the smallest grievance. If Yue Jingming refused the imperial summons, Zushan might be implicated because of him. Besides, the Mountains and Rivers Scroll had already delivered its prophecy. Demons were running rampant across the land and catastrophe was approaching. He would have to descend the mountain regardless, to slay demons and eradicate evil.
Yuheng Hall was built atop the sheer cliffs of the rear mountain. Looking out from the rear hall, one could see strange peaks rising through drifting clouds beneath a vast, open sky, a breathtaking sight.
Su Ji leaned against the railing and smiled. “When you were little, whenever Jinghui and the others annoyed you, you liked to hide here and read. Sometimes you lost track of time, and your master had to search everywhere for you.”
Yue Jingming lowered his eyes. “I was ignorant as a child and always made Master worry.”
“Look at the springs flowing through these mountains and the clouds drifting across the sky. Here they remain unblemished and unstained, carefree and at ease. But once they leave these mountains, returning becomes difficult.” He turned toward Yue Jingming, undisguised sorrow in his eyes. “Jingming, even immortal bones, once stained by the mortal world, will eventually become nothing more than a handful of earth.”
The mountain wind whipped around them. Yue Jingming stood in his blue-green Daoist robes, his bearing free and upright. “This disciple has made up his mind. I ask Master to grant me permission.”
Su Ji remained silent for a long while before finally speaking. “Demons are wreaking havoc and throwing the fate of the realm into disorder. Among them, one moyao above all others poses the greatest threat. The Myriad Demons Scroll will help you find him. If you can kill this moyao before he fully takes form, the An Dynasty will gain another two hundred years of national fortune, and the people will be able to live in peace.”
Elio’s Notes: Moyao (魔妖) is treated as a distinct supernatural category in the source. Its exact nature has not yet been explained, so we preserved the term rather than flattening it to a generic “demon.”
“Yes.” Yue Jingming bowed deeply once more. “This disciple accepts the command.”
Grain Rain had only recently passed. The breeze was warm, the sky clear, willow catkins drifted everywhere, and orioles and swallows sang among the trees. It was the finest season in the mortal world.
Elio’s Notes: Grain Rain (谷雨) is one of the twenty-four traditional Chinese solar terms and falls in late spring. Here, it quietly anchors the season just as the story moves from secluded Zushan into the wider mortal world.
A storyteller’s clapper struck the table hard enough to make the melon seeds jump three times.
“Today we won’t be talking about princes, generals, or ministers. Instead, we’ll speak of those who attained the Dao and became immortals. Our tale begins three hundred years ago…”
“Hey, old man, three hundred years ago is way too long ago.” A bright voice rang through the hall, carrying a hint of laughter. “Tell us something happening now.”
The storyteller was not offended. “And what would this young master like to hear?”
A pouch of broken silver sailed over the crowd and landed squarely on the table before him. The pieces spilled out with a clatter, and the storyteller’s eyes immediately lit up.
“Tell me all about Yue Jingming.” The man smiled as he spoke. “You know, that little immortal from the Zushan Sect.”
The storyteller looked more closely. The man was dressed in luxurious brocade woven with gold, his posture languid and his appearance rakishly handsome. Most striking of all were his eyes, long and narrow with upturned corners, a truly beautiful pair of fox eyes. He smiled lazily, and for a fleeting moment, one could almost believe he really was a fox spirit transformed into human form, capable of stealing a person’s soul with a single extra glance.
The clapper struck again.
“When speaking of Yue Jingming, the Number One Daoist Under Heaven, you must know that this title was personally bestowed by our present emperor!” the storyteller began smoothly. “More than ten years ago, when His Majesty was still Crown Prince Lie, he loved traveling through mountains and rivers and wandering far and wide. One day, Crown Prince Lie arrived at the foot of Zushan, only to have his path blocked by a charm demon. Coveting the imperial purple qi within him, the demon sought to seduce him into carnal union. The Crown Prince had been injured and his mind was clouded. Just as the charm demon was about to succeed, a sharp whistle tore through the night and a horsetail whisk came flying through the air, striking it squarely in the chest! The charm demon reeled in shock and spat out a mouthful of foul blood. At that very moment, several streaks of sword light flashed, and the demon was instantly torn apart. Its demon core burst from its body and crumbled directly into dust!”
“With the charm demon slain, the Crown Prince immediately regained his senses. When he looked up, he saw a young Daoist standing atop the treetops with a sword upon his back. His blue-green robes billowed despite the absence of wind, while his sword and horsetail whisk made him look like an immortal descended from Heaven! Looking more closely, the Daoist had clear, elegant features, immortal bones, and a transcendent bearing. Truly, he possessed the appearance of one untouched by the mortal world!”
“And thus the verse goes: ‘Crane-boned, pine-poised, robed in cloud and stream; immortal grace, a celestial dream. With whisk and sword he slew the mountain fiend; a jade lord from Heaven to mortal earth descended.’”
In the hall, the fox-eyed man in brocade scoffed and spat out a melon-seed shell.
The storyteller continued, “The young man lightly tapped his toes and floated down, helping the still-shaken Crown Prince to his feet before giving his name. As it turned out, he was a Daoist disciple of the Zushan Sect, surnamed Yue, with the Daoist name Jingming. The Crown Prince was injured and had no choice but to recuperate at Zushan. Being of similar age and temperament, the two became friends… Before Yue Jingming entered seclusion, he frequently descended the mountain to slay demons and eradicate evil, earning great renown… After the Crown Prince ascended the throne, he continued to remember Yue Jingming fondly and personally bestowed upon him the title of Number One Daoist Under Heaven! But if we are truly to speak of who deserves to be called number one, then we cannot avoid mentioning Yue Jingming’s master, Daoist Su Ji…”
He was reaching the most exciting part of his tale, and the audience in the hall was completely absorbed. But when the storyteller looked again toward the generous patron who had tossed him the silver, the seat was already empty. All that remained was a floor littered with melon-seed shells.
From beyond the door drifted a frivolous, almost ethereal voice:
“What Number One Daoist Under Heaven? More like the number one sanctimonious hypocrite under Heaven!”
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