Xue Cuo felt dizzy, resting his head on a large stone. “Kong Yun, no, I’m still feeling light-headed.”
Kong Yun glanced towards Fei’e Palace, lifted his robe, and hurried up the steps, urging, “The palace gates are open. They’re about to start a lecture. Ha, I want to hear what this Daoist teaching is all about. Get up, quickly!”
Little White Cloud drooped over Xue Cuo’s head, and the two sighed long and deep.
Kong Yun repeated, “Hurry and get up.”
Tears welled in Xue Cuo’s eyes. “My head hurts.”
Kong Yun: “……”
Sniffling, Xue Cuo’s eyes glistened with tears. “Xiao Yun-gege.”
Zhuo Qingyuan and Lang Cui approached the site of the recent fight, their expressions somewhat grim. Zhuo Qingyuan pulled out his fan. “Do you smell anything?”
Lang Cui hesitated a moment before shaking her head softly. “I don’t smell a thing.”
Zhuo Qingyuan was puzzled. “That’s odd. Could Bai Luoluo, that missy, be playing along with Xue Cuo? This doesn’t feel right. That brat Xue Cuo went from the third to the twelfth level of the Spiritual Platform in one night. How many Wendao Pills did he eat?”
Lang Cui replied, “If you’ve the nerve, ask the Sword Immortal or Dragon Might Swordmaster yourself.”
Zhuo Qingyuan laughed awkwardly. “Maybe not then.”
The gates of Fei’e Palace swung wide, flooding the place with auspicious light.
The hall was magnificent, with columns carved with dragons and phoenixes of exquisite craftsmanship. Even the cushions on the floor were woven from rare Tranquil Heart Willow.
Any newcomer would be awestruck by the profound Daoist aura and the majestic, ancient atmosphere of the Great Dao.
Yet today, the disciples who entered showed no such wonder. Instead, their faces were shadowed with doubt, contemplation, caution, and faint suspicion.
Chen Zongping’s death had shaken them deeply.
Who would be the next Chen Zongping? Could anyone become Bai Luoluo?
Silence hung heavily among the disciples.
At the far end of the cushions sat an old man with snow-white hair and beard, flanked by two young boys striking chime bells.
The pure, clear sound refreshed the mind. The old man stroked his beard and slowly opened his eyes, showing no embarrassment as if nothing had occurred. “Students, please take your seats.”
The cultivators bowed, though their hearts were less reverent than before. This was the Palace of the Great Dao, yet it watched silently as disciples bled, unmoved even as the bronze pillars stood firm.
The disciples seated themselves on the cushions. Suddenly, the old man’s eyes flicked towards two figures at the palace gates.
One had emerald feathers at his temples, carrying a child with a red ribbon in his hair on his back, their faces gloomy. Step by step, they entered Wendao Palace.
The once silent Daoist hall stirred with murmurs. A disciple suddenly rose respectfully. “Shixiong, what happened?”
“I just feel nauseous. Not usually this bad. Shixiong, earlier you were too close to that demon…… cough cough, fairy. I fear you’ve been affected by the smell. I’ve some fine peppermint oil.”
“Shixiong, do sit at the front. We’ve saved cushions for you both.”
Though most disciples remained indifferent, merely following with their eyes, over a dozen stood in the eerie silence. Yet, at least a dozen rose to their feet.
None objected to the seating of Xue Cuo and Kong Yun.
The old man was slightly surprised. Having watched the whole affair, he’d assumed it was a farce.
What’s this? Are these students turning against us?
Kong Yun carried Xue Cuo to an empty cushion, lifted his shoulder, and Xue Cuo rolled off, lying on the ground to meet a young man’s gaze.
The youth sat upright, eyes cold.
Gu Ruhui extended his right hand. Xue Cuo hesitated a moment before taking it and sitting up.
“Shixiong, you’re late,” Gu Ruhui said evenly.
Xue Cuo scratched his head.
Gu Ruhui said no more. Xue Cuo quietly nudged his cushion closer to Kong Yun. Kong Yun shot him a glare.
He still resented Xue Cuo for refusing to move and making the mighty Peacock King carry him.
Facing the gathered disciples, the old man slowly shook the bell in his hand, its clear tone drifting through the vast mountains. His voice was low yet incredibly clear in the silence, as if reaching each person’s very heart.
“Since ancient times, the Dao has been cultivators’ path to explore the wisdom and laws of heaven and earth. It is more than knowledge or skill. It is a method of exploration.”
“The path of cultivation is to refine the Dao, follow the Way, purify one’s heart, drawing closer to the Heavenly Dao and to truth.”
His words were simple yet profound, setting forth the principles and ideals of cultivation.
Xue Cuo’s brow relaxed, then slowly furrowed again.
“In studying the Dao, one must never defy Heaven’s laws, lest divine retribution follow.”
The teacher’s words were accessible yet deep. The disciples listened solemnly, reflecting silently.
One closed their eyes to meditate, seeming to advance.
Gu Ruhui lowered his gaze. Xue Cuo propped his chin, nodding drowsily, clearly close to sleep, yet oddly the rhythm of his being suggested he was still gaining insight.
Kong Yun beside him appeared dull-witted, yet was deep in thought. Occasionally, an imposing image of a peacock flickered behind his mind.
Gu Ruhui blinked, withdrew his gaze, and focused.
The lecture lasted from noon until sunset. When it ended, the old man bade farewell, and Xue Cuo and Kong Yun left Fei’e Palace, descending the steps.
Xue Cuo was short, so Kong Yun held his hand to speak, and Xue Cuo followed close behind to avoid the taller disciples pushing past. He asked, “That old man’s teaching… was actually quite something. Xiao Yun, what do you think?”
Kong Yun shook his head, unconvinced. “Bai Luoluo was taught by Wendao Palace.”
Xue Cuo draped an arm over his shoulder. “What if she’s deviated?”
Kong Yun clearly scorned the idea and tugged his ear. “You’re just defending Wendao Palace!”
“Hiss, I only believe what I see.”
As they spoke, they reached the quiet bamboo grove outside Fei’e Palace. Xue Cuo hopped onto a rock and patted beside him. “Xiao Yun, rest a moment.”
Kong Yun jumped up too. The two children gazed at the verdant bamboo and the cool breeze with contentment. Kong Yun suddenly asked, “By the way, how did you get to the twelfth level of spiritual cultivation in just one night?”
When he heard this, Xue Cuo sighed, tears welling. “I’ve been conned…”
Seeing he wouldn’t say more, Kong Yun didn’t press. He was deeply disappointed with Wendao Palace but reluctant to disappoint his clan by leaving empty-handed unless forced.
The Daoist scriptures of Eastern Lands were here, but his clan’s teachings had withered away.
Where else could he learn the Dao?
Kong Yun sighed softly and snorted, gazing skyward.
Suddenly, a fuzzy grass stem poked at his nose. He caught the hand, raised an eyebrow, and flipped over to straddle Xue Cuo. “Tickling me? I’ve lived a hundred years longer than you. These are my leftovers!”
Xue Cuo protested, but the peacock’s plump form made it hard for him to rise. They tussled until Xue Cuo surrendered.
Kong Yun sat astride Xue Cuo’s hips, weaving a grass wreath. Xue Cuo lay on the ground drawing talismans with twigs. Suddenly, he said, “Kong Xiao Yun, I just had a revelation. Come here, I’ll tell you.”
Kong Yun’s energy was strong but his Daoist knowledge shallow. He was keen to copy Xue Cuo’s work.
He lay down with his head next to Xue Cuo’s. Examining the talisman, veins bulging, he said, “You got two of the seven characters wrong!”
Xue Cuo argued confidently, “Do I need to recognise the characters to draw talismans? What’s that got to do with Dao rhyme?”
“That’s nonsense! Talismans have cores, heads, tails, roots. Yours lacks head and tail, just seven characters. Makes no sense!”
“But it is interesting… ‘Things follow the laws of nature’ means the Heavenly Dao is naturally impartial, ruthless, and unreasonable?”
“Interesting indeed. Write a few more characters, and I’ll copy… cough, have a look…”
Xue Cuo propped his chin, staring at Kong Yun. Kong Yun frowned. “What’re you looking at?”
Xue Cuo cupped his face. “Xiao Yun, there’s a peacock behind you.”
Kong Yun snorted. “I’m a descendant of the Peacock King. Seeing a Daoist peacock image during enlightenment is hardly surprising.”
He turned his head sharply. Behind him floated a colossal peacock Dao image, its aura lively yet unadorned, vast and majestic enough to blot out the sun and sky. Its feathers gleamed like stars and moons; its gaze was commanding without anger.
Kong Yun felt a shiver, as if facing an ancestral shrine.
And, above all, it was breathtakingly beautiful.
Compared with this peacock, Kong Yun’s feathers seemed far less resplendent.
With a soft puff, Kong Yun turned into a plump bird, staring blankly at the Dao image as it spread its wings and gradually faded away.
Xue Cuo gestured with his hands. “Wasn’t it huge?”
Kong Yun: “…How could it not be? That might well have been my ancestor.”
……
Ah Zhu emerged from the mountain gate with her didi on her back. The disciple in charge of the register said, “Once you step beyond this gate, there’s no coming back.”
“Meimei, take my advice. Since Bai-shijie has already compensated you with a pill, better to stay here, calm your mind, and focus on cultivation. Attaining the Dao sooner is what truly matters.”
Ah Zhu ignored him entirely, carrying the boy’s body through the gate.
The steward stood with his hands tucked in his sleeves and sighed. Everyone has their own fate. Then came a small, sharp clink as a little emerald-green bottle rolled to his feet. He looked up to see Ah Zhu hitch her shidi higher on her back, spit onto the ground, and carry him down the mountain.
She walked on and on, until she reached the vast shores of the Great Loch. There she set Chen Zongping down and wiped at his face—yet no matter how she wiped, it would not come clean.
Tears slid down onto her shidi’s cheek. She brushed them away, only for more to fall.
The waters of the Great Loch stretched, boundless and glimmering.
Seated at his side, Ah Zhu suddenly thought of something. She opened her palm, revealing a pale-blue talisman faintly aglow.
Xianghuo Divine Dao had long been deemed inauspicious… an evil path.
Ah Zhu’s gaze shifted. She placed the talisman in the corpse’s palm, and in a hoarse, laboured voice, recalled the divine title syllable by syllable:
“…Naturally…”
“…Wondrous… Merciful…”
“…Dao-Responding…”
“…Goddess of the Great Loch…”
She bowed low, touching her brow to the ground. “My didi, sixteen years of age…… surname Chen, name Zongping, born in the eighth month of the Immortal Calendar, a native of Tongqing County… He died a discontented death. I will avenge him. Goddess… grant him protection in the Divine Kingdom…”
Her sobs muffled the rest of her words.
Then, she felt a coolness in her palm. Ah Zhu lifted her head. At some point, the waters of the Great Loch had lapped up to the shore, brushing lightly across her hands.
A wisp of Xianghuo power, faint yet steeped in devotion, drifted slowly down into the loch.
In the pitch-black Divine Kingdom, a sudden wind arose.
Red Hair and Green Hair were brawling over what crops would yield best for Xiantian Village. Mid-squabble, they heard the sound of flowing water.
Red Hair sniffed. “Eh? Where’s that living soul from? So fresh!”
