Chapter Twelve: Reclining Among the Clouds, Severing Mortal Ties

The moon shone bright, the stars sparse. Liaochen stood silently by the stone pond with his disciple, gazing at the lake bathed in a gentle silvery light.

“Master, I miss my mother,” Taohua finally could not hold back any longer; golden tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried to stifle her sobs, but the sight tugged at Liaochen’s heart. After all, Taohua was still at an age when she should have been nestled in her parents’ arms, carefree and cherished.

“Come, Taohua, bow to the lake for your mother, and repay her for the years she raised you,” Liaochen said, gently patting the child’s head.

“Yes,” Taohua knelt facing the great lake. Liaochen drew his peachwood sword, traced a line in the air, and conjured an altar, already prepared with all the necessary ritual tools.

With a clear “ding ding ding,” Liaochen rang the soul-summoning bell and began to recite the Rebirth Sutra, guiding the restless spirits at the lake’s bottom to peace.

He chanted:

By the Supreme’s decree, all lonely souls and wandering ghosts,
All four kinds of life, may you receive grace.
Those with heads and those without, those killed by blade or rope,
Those who died in darkness, wronged or in debt, children lost to vengeance,
Kneel before my altar, let the Eight Trigrams shine,
Step from the depths, and be reborn in another realm.
Whether man or woman, riches or poverty, your fate is yours to bear.

By decree, let all be swiftly reborn, let all be swiftly reborn.

Again and again, as Taohua finished her bows, she watched her master conjure the ritual altar as if by magic, yet she felt no surprise. From the moment she’d stood upon the clouds, she had known her master was no ordinary man, but a true immortal. One day, she thought, she too would become an immortal—one who could eat as much as she wished.

The bell’s pure tones mingled with the low drone of the sutra. As the ritual continued, blue lights began to flicker over the lake, growing more numerous, until they formed a shimmering expanse. Vague, drifting figures appeared upon the water, ethereal and indistinct. At the village entrance, those who had been secretly watching from afar broke out in cold sweat, frightened by the sight.

The bell’s sound faded, but the chanting grew ever more resonant, and the forms on the lake grew clearer beneath the moonlight. There were men and women, young and old; it was clear now that the Li family village bore a heavy burden of bloodshed.

Suddenly, Taohua cried out, “Mother, it’s my mother! Master, I see her! I see my mother!”

“Mother! Mother! Mother! I see you! Come to me, come to your Taohua! Do you know, I think of you every day, I dream of you every night. Everyone else has their mother’s love, how wonderful it would be if you were still here. You could play with me, sleep by my side, comfort me when I’m hurt. Why don’t you answer me, Mother? Have you forgotten me? Don’t you love me anymore? Please come, I miss you so much, I really, really miss you...”

Seeing her mother’s form among the spirits on the lake, Taohua lost all control, weeping and calling out, longing for her mother’s spirit to come to her. Her cries, filled with longing and sorrow, were as heart-rending as a cuckoo’s wail, and even the most stone-hearted among the villagers could not help but weep at her plaintive calls.

“The path between life and death is severed; the worlds of the living and dead are apart. I invoke the heavenly host to open the way for you. With one sword, I cleave the realms; with the second, I cross the Yellow Springs; with the third, I finish the three paths—calamities ended, enter the wheel of rebirth.”

Liaochen summoned all his spiritual power, infused it into his sword, and swept it through the air. Miraculously, a great door appeared above the lake, yawning open into darkness. On the other side, only the blazing red blossoms of the manjusaka lined the Yellow Springs Road, burning crimson to its end.

“Soldiers of the Netherworld, heed my command: escort them to the underworld. By decree, go!” With his shout, two rows of ghostly soldiers marched from the other side of the gate, standing at attention, ready to guide the spirits on their journey.

Liaochen seized a handful of rice from the altar, recited an incantation, and flung it forward. The yellow grains glimmered with golden light, gathering into a bridge that spanned the lake, linking the shore to the open gates of the underworld.

“The hour has come. Begin the crossing.” Liaochen pointed with his sword, and the spirits lined up and floated along the golden bridge toward the gates of the afterlife.

“No, Mother, don’t go! I can’t bear to lose you...” Seeing her mother’s spirit about to depart, Taohua panicked, caring nothing for the cold depths as she rushed toward the lake, desperate to catch her mother and bring her back. But Liaochen had foreseen this—he had drawn a circle of light around Taohua, and as she tried to cross it, a golden glow stopped her in her tracks. She jumped and cried, her voice hoarse, but her mother never looked back.

Liaochen sighed for this mother and daughter bound by suffering and shallow fate. As Taohua’s cries grew faint from exhaustion, he softly cast a calming spell, and she slipped into sleep.

The spirits crossed the bridge, and just as the last female ghost was about to enter the underworld, she turned back and gazed deeply at the sleeping Taohua. She knelt upon the bridge and bowed three times to Liaochen, then looked to him with pleading eyes.

Liaochen was startled. After years beneath the lake, Taohua’s mother’s soul had not been destroyed—such was the power of a mother’s bond. Understanding her silent plea, Liaochen called out, “Rest assured, she is my disciple. I will protect her and never let her suffer as you did. Go in peace.”

Taohua’s mother bowed three more times before finally stepping through the gates of the underworld. As the last of the ghostly soldiers vanished, the great gate faded and disappeared into the night. Liaochen put away the altar, lifted the sleeping Taohua in his arms, and gazed at the teardrops clinging to her long lashes, unsure of what to say as a dull ache filled his heart.

“Foolish child, the realms of the living and dead are forever apart. Had your mother lingered by your side, she could never be reborn, doomed to wander as a lonely spirit until she faded into nothingness. You, too, would lose your vitality and your lifespan would diminish.” Liaochen sighed, summoned a cloud, and soared into the sky with Taohua, watching as Li Family Village shrank in the distance. He whispered to the sleeping child, “The past is over. From now on, there is no Li Taohua in this world—only Yunhua, the immortal maiden whose beauty is like willows in spring and clouds reflected in the water.”