Chapter Forty-Two: A Different Taoism

Liao Chen returned to the Taoist temple, his mind deep in contemplation. In his previous life, Taoism had already waned, far less flourishing than Buddhism. This decline wasn’t solely because Taoist teachings overly emphasized self-cultivation; it was also due to many Taoist priests losing their ambition and drive.

The splendor of the mortal world was indeed intoxicating. Power and wealth could drive people to madness. Aside from the initial hardships of spreading Taoism, it seemed rare to find Taoists who traveled widely like famed swordsmen to propagate the doctrine. Instead, many exploited the allure of immortality to deceive emperors. Taoism had become too aloof, focused solely on the elite. While seducing kings and nobles with promises of immortality brought temporary prosperity, it was like a sandcastle on the shore—once rulers ceased to believe in alchemy, Taoism would vanish as swiftly as a delicate melody. Although Taoism prized life, it did not necessarily reject concern for the afterlife. True longevity was rare. Was the cycle of reincarnation through the underworld and six realms solely the domain of Buddhism?

Liao Chen spent several days organizing Taoist scriptures. Just as Buddhism had many sects, so did Taoism; he himself could establish a new branch. Cultivating Taoism in the present era was difficult, unlike in ancient times. If one could not attain enlightenment in this life, one might seek it in the next. The West had its Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss; the East had its Eastern Land of Everlasting Joy. One who could merge with either the Supreme Lord of Salvation or the Great Unity might transform the mundane world into a pure lotus realm, serene and unsullied. Remembering the Supreme Lord of Salvation at one’s final moment would grant passage to the Eastern Land of Everlasting Joy, freeing one forever from the cycle of birth and death. Though Taoism seldom spread this teaching, few knew of it.

Liao Chen resolved to highlight this teaching as a standalone scripture, adding the virtues of propagation and moral cultivation. This could reclaim a rightful place for Taoism and honor his lineage as a disciple of the Three Purities in two lifetimes.

Determined, Liao Chen immediately began his work, sealing the temple with a formation to isolate inside from outside. After seven days of strenuous effort, the scripture was complete. He carefully reviewed it before presenting it before the Three Purities, humbly requesting their approval. Without their consent and the blessing of the heavenly and nether realms, opening Taoism’s gates to universal salvation would be mere empty rhetoric. This time, Liao Chen truly glimpsed a dawn for the broad Taoist path and held great hope.

The temple was perfumed with incense as he knelt in reverence, silently chanting divine names and praying for heavenly guidance. Unbeknownst to him, this scripture shook the very foundation of the Taoist deities, including his own ancestral masters.

Liao Chen’s scripture was not part of the established Taoist canon but differed in focus. This difference transformed Taoism completely. No longer did it speak of alchemy or meditative seclusion. Instead, it emphasized virtue, teaching, and the accumulation of good deeds to seek rebirth in the Eastern Land of Everlasting Joy, thereby transcending the cycle of life and death or gaining blessings in the next life. It bore a resemblance to Buddhism, shedding the aristocratic airs of old Taoism to become a religion of the common people, guiding both self-liberation and the salvation of others through accessible means. As soon as Liao Chen completed the scripture, the Three Taoist Lords in the heavens were already aware, especially since he had personally presented it for their endorsement.

The Supreme Lord Laozi, the founder of Taoism, naturally took the greatest interest. He skimmed through Liao Chen’s new scripture and quickly grasped its essence. It resembled the Esoteric Sect—intercepting and interpreting a portion of the Taoist canon—thus becoming a new branch beneficial for spreading the Dharma but unrelated to the path of immortality. Whether this was a boon or a bane, Laozi’s mind churned with endless permutations. He could only shake his head with a wry smile, neither approving nor rejecting outright. Likewise, the Primordial Lord and the Lord of Spiritual Treasures had long understood everything. The Primordial Lord felt displeased, while the Lord of Spiritual Treasures felt immense comfort. The Great Dao’s fifty evolutions had forty-nine fixed numbers; only a single thread of life might escape. The Esoteric Sect’s teachings captured that thread. Though Liao Chen was not an Esoteric disciple, his doctrine coincided with their true intent, offering Taoism a lifeline. Did this not prove the Esoteric Sect’s superiority over the orthodox sect?

The Three Purities, aware of Liao Chen’s groundbreaking deed in the mortal realm, had naturally informed Donghua Dijun and Lü Chunyang. Such a significant event could not be concealed from their sect’s patriarch. Lü Chunyang felt both pride and concern upon learning of his disciple’s “feat.” He was proud that someone under his tutelage might become a grandmaster and found a sect. Yet he worried that the matter was serious, as it utterly reversed traditional Taoist practice—rooting itself among the common folk, seeking not immortality in this life but liberation after death. This defied Taoism’s principle of valuing the present life. Anxious about the Three Lords’ reaction, Lü Chunyang, feeling his own realm insufficient, journeyed to Fangzhu Mountain to seek Donghua Dijun’s counsel.

“Disciple Chunyang pays respects to the Patriarch,” Lü Chunyang entered the imperial palace of Donghua Dijun and bowed. Before he could speak, Donghua Dijun produced a mirrored copy of Liao Chen’s new scripture.

“I already know your worries. This matter is momentous, filled with great opportunities and risks. The outcome depends on how the Three Lords judge it. Taoism’s decline is inevitable, but your disciple may be the turning point. Perhaps Taoism’s destiny lies here. Now I understand why the Lords favor him and why Heaven’s Dao has bestowed such grace. In this era of Dao’s decline, cultivation is like the moon in water or a flower in a mirror—illusory. His methods may yet lead Taoism to compete with other faiths. The Three Lords comprehend past and future; you need not fear,” Donghua Dijun nodded, then turned his gaze towards the Dusky Heaven Doushuai Palace, where the Three Lords were likely deliberating.

In the celestial court, the immortals, possessing vast powers, were naturally aware of the mortal realm’s affairs. Zhang Tianshi, the Taoist patriarch, remained noncommittal, but other deities secretly speculated on the outcome. The fate of Taoism concerned not only its deities but also the Buddhas of the Western Pure Land, who began to divine heavenly secrets. Yet the Three Sages’ deliberations were beyond any outsider’s reach. Inevitably, some backlash from the celestial Dao ensued, serving as a moderate lesson, deterring any presumptuous thoughts.

“When I meet the Tathagata, I shall understand the karma of past and future lives, attain the three profound bodhi, and know the unity of the heavenly Dao. If life’s thread remains, one gains great wisdom and fortune. Disciples must not force matters. The heavenly Dao is ordained, and the Lords’ decisions must not be usurped. One must understand one’s own mind and the minds of others, so there is neither obstruction nor hindrance,” the Tathagata sat solemnly in the Great Hero’s Hall, watching many Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and arhats lose their composure as they recklessly sought heavenly secrets and suffered Dao’s backlash. He reminded all disciples of the Dao’s inscrutability.

“Thank you, World Honored One, for your guidance,” the assembly of Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and arhats rose, expressing their gratitude. The Tathagata’s words—understand your mind, understand others’ minds, no obstruction nor hindrance—revealed the truth. By putting oneself in another’s place, anyone could grasp the Three Lords’ choice.

One day in heaven equaled a year on earth. The moon was high in the night sky, yet no divine edict from the Three Purities had appeared. Yun Lingzi, though a soul of the netherworld, was a true Taoist disciple. She feared no gods or statues as she busied herself cleaning the temple, inside and out, eager to help her master during this rare period of seclusion, when he had not stepped beyond the gates for many days, engrossed in a great undertaking. The clang of her cleaning echoed through the temple, sounding as if they were dismantling the old halls rather than tidying them.