“The great calamity has finally descended.”
“Plagues, natural disasters, ferocious beasts, evil spirits. Look around you. Where is there not merit to be gained?”
“If you wish to become an immortal, you must cast aside mercy.”
The disciples of Wendao Palace gathered upon the clouds, listening as the young gentleman before them spoke with easy eloquence. He was the famed Sanjue* Qiushui, reputed as the perfection of man, poetry, and sword.
(*TN: san=three, jue=perfections)
With a white folding fan of paper in hand, he discoursed upon all the romance of the world.
These disciples had only just begun their journey, yet they had already encountered the once-in-ten-thousand-years great calamity. Much remained unclear to them. One disciple asked, “But shixiong, slaying demons and exterminating evil is the duty of our Dao. Why are we told to stand by and watch people die?”
Young Master Sanjue’s expression turned cold, frightening the disciple into silence. Then he smiled languidly, flicking his fingernails as he mocked, “Stand by and watch them die? And how exactly would you save them? You overestimate yourself. Who do you think you are? A saviour of the world?”
The crowd burst into laughter. Young Master Sanjue curled his lips in scorn. “Many years ago, Wendao Palace had someone like that. Thought himself extraordinary. Defied the elders. Quite the spectacle indeed, so imposing, so domineering. But what of him now? Fallen to the mortal world, bones and body gone, not even fit to remain a cultivator.”
“How do you compare with him?”
“His background alone would frighten you to death. Even someone of that standing has fallen. How many more lives do you think you have than him?”
The disciple’s lips trembled. He hesitated, unable to reply.
Young Master Sanjue’s anger turned to a smile as he consoled them. “In truth, I know you all have Wendao Palace at heart. But there is no need to rush. First climb to the rank of immortal, then plan matters slowly. Wanting to eliminate demons and defend the Dao is commendable. But that should wait until you become immortals, when you can set the rules rather than be bound by them.”
Seeing the disciples fall silent, as though they had understood, he began distributing command tokens and gourds of medicinal pills, urging them toward various minor sects.
“This gourd contains life-saving medicine. One pill extends your lifespan. Two pills will raise your realm. Take them to those smaller sects and have them descend the mountains to rescue people.”
The disciples’ eyes widened. “Such precious things… and we give them away?”
Young Master Sanjue shot him a cold glance. “Not letting you eat them is for your own good. There will be greater benefits for you later. Why be greedy for such trifling scraps?”
The disciples were still young and had been trained into meek obedience. They lowered their heads, accepted the items, and departed.
Only after Sanjue Qiushui confirmed they had all gone to the smaller sects, and that the tokens had not failed, did he leisurely mount the clouds and return.
Recently the demon clans had grown in strength, with signs that they might re-establish the Demon Court. They were not easy to provoke.
As Young Master Sanjue flew along, he saw demons and monsters running rampant, disasters striking one after another. An invisible aura of calamity blanketed heaven and earth, driving all living beings to slaughter one another until they turned to ash beneath the great tribulation.
Young Master Sanjue watched with a faint unease. Pure qi coiled about his body. Though he carried karma, he would not be drawn into the calamity itself.
This was his master’s teaching. Heaven set calamities among living beings so that the capable might ascend to immortality while the incapable fell into the dust. Everything was destiny, decided from the moment of birth.
He flew toward Wendao Palace. Passing over the southern Divine Land, he noticed a small village shrouded in the miasma of plague. Parting the clouds, he looked more closely.
Every household scattered paper money. White mourning streamers stood at every step. Wives dead, sons buried, mothers gone, fathers lost. Children barely past the age of hair knots wore coarse mourning cloth, their families utterly shattered.
He sighed softly. “Too many sins in a past life. That is why they cannot become cultivators in this one. Everything is fate brought with them at birth. Not worth pitying. Hmm… there is actually someone there?”
Young Master Sanjue focused his gaze.
Above the village, within the clouds, a three-inch clay figurine poked its head out, looked left and right, then brushed aside the mist to reveal the cultivator behind it. The man wore blue robes and held in his palm a lotus-shaped Dao manifestation.
He raised his hand and cast a talisman. The wind howled as a torrential rain poured down, dispersing the plague-ridden miasma in the village and giving the mortals a brief chance to breathe.
Yet that was still not enough. He flung out two more talismans, summoning the Dao-rhythm of blazing sunlight, scorching and roasting the Xianghuo god who had gathered the plague, intent on drying him alive beneath the sun.
Young Master Sanjue’s expression tightened. He hurried forward to stop him. “Daoist friend, show mercy!”
Xue Cuo had been reasoning with the Xianghuo god when he heard the shout. Turning, he saw a pale young man dressed entirely in white, white robes, white trousers, white socks, white hair ribbon, riding a cloud toward him.
Xuan Zhao hissed. “Did someone in his family die or something…?”*
(*TN: in Chinese culture, funeral garb is white.)
Xue Cuo’s expression changed slightly. He quickly covered his mouth. “Master Xuan, please accumulate a little verbal virtue.”
Xuan Zhao glared, thoroughly unconvinced.
Xue Cuo said, “Be polite. I still need some reputation in the future.”
Xuan Zhao snorted. “Hmph.”
Xue Cuo added, “If we are to found a sect, we must treat others kindly and form good relations.”
Xuan Zhao drooped his brows. “Fine.”
Young Master Sanjue hurried over and cupped his hands to Xue Cuo. Xue Cuo promptly returned the greeting. Before he could speak, the man in white cried out in anguish. “Daoist friend, if you kill that Xianghuo god, you can only harvest this merit once. Killing the chicken for its eggs like this is far too selfish.”
Xue Cuo froze.
Xuan Zhao waggled his brows. “Still planning to form that good relationship?”
Xue Cuo’s mouth twitched. Suspecting a misunderstanding, he cupped his hands and said to Sanjue Qiushui, “I am an unaffiliated cultivator from the Great Marsh of Qianyun. May I ask where Daoist friend comes from?”
At the words “unaffiliated cultivator”, Sanjue Qiushui’s expression turned arrogant.
“Oh, a wandering cultivator from Qianyun? I am Sanjue Qiushui, disciple of Elder Xun Lingjun of the Taiyi lineage of Wendao Palace.”
A fierce glint flashed in Xue Cuo’s eyes. “Wendao Palace…”
Sanjue Qiushui said coldly, “Why have you not withdrawn your divine arts yet? Be careful not to offend the immortals above, or you will suffer the consequences.”
Having said this, he looked Xue Cuo up and down, his thoughts already wandering, dazzled by beauty. “I see you carry heavy sin upon you. Why not come with me to Wendao Palace? We could sit by candlelight and discuss the Dao together. Exchange some pointers in cultivation. Hmm.”
Xue Cuo’s face turned green. Xuan Zhao could not help bursting into laughter, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. “Sit by candlelight and discuss the Dao. Exchange pointers in cultivation. Ugh.”
Xue Cuo’s face darkened. With a vicious expression he flung out more than a dozen talismans, wrapping Young Master Sanjue into a tight dumpling.
“The road to heaven you refuse to take. The gate to hell you throw yourself through. In this life I detest Wendao Palace the most!”
Young Master Sanjue jumped in fright and hurriedly summoned his magic treasure, yet the talismans were so formidable that he could not break free. “Do you know who I am?”
Xue Cuo’s face turned black as the bottom of a pot. Rolling up his fist, he shouted, “You’re my son, and I’m your fine old grandfather. Take this!”
Young Master Sanjue hurried to defend himself, but against Xue Cuo’s formidable footwork he was instantly thrown into confusion. In the blink of an eye he had taken no idea how many punches. His white robes were battered into a crumpled mess, and any trace of elegance had long since vanished.
In his daze he suddenly remembered he still had a sword. Hastily drawing it from its sheath, he shouted, “You demon cultivator!”
Xuan Zhao fanned the flames from the side. “Xue Cuo, he’s getting serious now!”
Xue Cuo snorted through his nose, clearly furious. He rolled up his sleeves, pulled out the incense burner, and brought it smashing down on the man’s head. Young Master Sanjue ended up with far more breath going out than coming in. A streak of light flew out from his body and he collapsed on the ground, unconscious.
Xuan Zhao bellowed, “Xue Cuo, you’ve killed someone! His soul’s gone off to find backing!”
Xue Cuo hurriedly put away the incense burner and widened his eyes. “Nonsense. I can see perfectly well he’s just playing dead. I won’t stoop to his level.”
He clapped his hands, looking upright and righteous. “Still, leaving this body here isn’t safe either. What if someone else possessed it?”
Xuan Zhao thought to himself that the man was already dead, so how could anyone possess it. Before he could say anything, Xue Cuo had already lit a talisman. The blazing sun burned down, crackling as it scorched the body to pieces, leaving behind only a wisp of blue smoke.
Xuan Zhao stared, dumbfounded.
Xue Cuo looked thoroughly satisfied. “That settles it. No one can possess him now. One good deed a day, one good deed a day.”
Xuan Zhao looked up at the drifting smoke. “Xue Cuo, you’re so immoral you’re smoking.”
Xue Cuo was about to argue when he suddenly heard the wind rushing across the sky. Grabbing Xuan Zhao, he stepped onto the Supreme Freedom Technique and vanished in an instant, fleeing without a trace.
Young Master Sanjue returned to the sect weeping bitterly. Elder Xun, who treated him like his own son, was instantly furious. He tore open space and descended at once upon the place of the battle. But his disciple’s body was nowhere to be seen.
Sniffing carefully, he detected only the acrid smell of burnt smoke. Young Master Sanjue shrieked miserably, “My body! Master, my body is gone!”
Elder Xun’s face turned pale with anger. “How vicious. That boy must be a deviant cultivator of the demonic path. I will certainly kill him and avenge you!”
Young Master Sanjue cried miserably, wishing he could go back to half an hour earlier and ask himself why he had spoken so much. Choking with sobs, he said, “Master, what about my body?”
Elder Xun let out a breath and comforted him. “Do not worry. Wendao Palace has plenty of young disciples. Your teacher will choose you a good one.”
Young Master Sanjue wiped his tears, still a little greedy. “Then I want one that’s handsome. Very handsome. And he has to wear blue robes.”
…
Xue Cuo ran fast as lightning. After returning to the Great Marsh of Qianyun he received a letter from Kong Yun asking about the matter of shaping a body for the Great Sage.
Uneasy, Xue Cuo made another trip to the demon clans and stayed there for more than half a month.
This time, however, things were slightly different. He had opened the Qianyun Dao Arena and was the senior disciple of the Goddess Temple. Though he stood alone, he now represented an entire sect.
Because of this, the news spread rapidly. By the time it reached the human realm, it had become a story that he was on friendly terms with the demon royal court and at odds with the demon king of the human realm. The two paths were entirely different, like fire and water.
Thus, although Xue Cuo and Yin Feixue had not met again, both of them seemed to understand that things between them were no longer the same as before.
Xue Cuo had never written to Yin Feixue, nor sent him a paper crane. Yet from time to time he still found himself thinking about that jar of fine wine, wondering when he might finally get to drink it.
Ren Shu asked about his plans for the future.
Xue Cuo said, “The Xianghuo faith in the human world is in utter chaos now. I intend to establish a set of rules and pass them to the Xianghuo gods of the southern Divine Lands. They are to act according to those rules. Any who disobey will be cast down into the Infernal Hell to suffer the torment of ten thousand ghosts gnawing their flesh.”
Ren Shu jumped in fright and felt deeply uneasy. “Isn’t that a bit excessive? We’re already short of manpower. You’re constantly travelling about. Once the ghost messengers of Qianyun leave the marsh their strength is halved. If you send out such a decree now, I fear it will be nothing but empty words.”
Xue Cuo’s expression remained clear. He pointed upward, then downward. “In a rushing current, only the brave advance. The victor becomes king. I have planned this day for a long time. Now above me I have the Golden Crow, below me the Goddess, and beside me the Great Sage of the demon clans. Tell me, among these Xianghuo Dao gods, how many could withstand it if I invited the gods one after another?”
Ren Shu froze. “This…”
After a moment spent organising his words, he said with difficulty, “But… would that not seem disrespectful to the higher gods?”
Xue Cuo did not think so at all. “What’s there to worry about? Those great gods are all very reasonable. Very easy to talk to.”
Ren Shu fell silent.
Xue Cuo, pleased with himself, went off to draw talismans and work out the wording of the decree. He remained busy until midnight.
Xuan Zhao and Ren Shu came to bring him a late-night meal. The moment they opened the door they saw Xue Cuo holding a paper crane, grinning happily.
Xuan Zhao poked his head in. “Well now. What’s got you smiling so wide?”
Ren Shu smiled faintly. “Indeed.”
Xue Cuo put away his brushes and ink, brushed off his sleeves, his brows and eyes brimming with laughter. “Yin Feixue invited me to sit by candlelight and discuss the Dao.”
Xuan Zhao gave a muffled snort, his expression strange. “You’re not angry?”
Xue Cuo had been thinking about that jar of good wine. It had also been a long time since he had gone out to meet friends, and he had no idea what everyone else had been busy with lately. Yin Feixue’s paper crane had given him a rare moment of leisure amidst his work, so naturally he was pleased.
He looked puzzled. “Why would I be angry?”
Xuan Zhao thought of Young Master Qiushui, who had died with eyes wide open, and fell silent.
Ren Shu asked, “But Yin Feixue… could he resent you over the demon royal court and be setting a trap?”
Xue Cuo rejected the idea at once and hopped onto the windowsill. “He wouldn’t. I’m going.”
Ren Shu hurried after him. “Be careful in everything.”
But Xue Cuo had already vanished without a trace. Ren Shu could not help striking the window frame. “Please don’t let anything happen.”
Xuan Zhao hugged his little clay arms and said gloomily, “What could possibly happen with that tiger? At most he’ll lose his chastity.”
Ren Shu looked baffled. “Ah?”
