Chapter Four: Trapped in the Devil’s Den, Salvation from the Emperor Arrives

“The Empress is truly wise,” the Hongzhi Emperor exclaimed with a clap, praising the Empress. Embarrassed, the Empress replied, “Then let us proceed as planned. I will notify my brother and have him come to the palace at once, and you should send word to the Prince of Shu. He is nearby and should have heard of this already. Just inquire into the truth of the matter.”

The next day, an imperial edict traveled from the Palace of Heavenly Purity to the Directorate of Ceremonial, and then to the Grand Secretariat, where it awaited the blue pencil before being promulgated throughout the realm. The Hongzhi Emperor, having deliberately withheld the memorial, left the Grand Secretariat unaware of the reason behind this sudden decree. The edict read: “For meritorious service in enlightening the people, the Xuanguang Temple of Mount Qingcheng in Sichuan is hereby designated an imperial Daoist temple. The abbot is conferred the fifth-rank title of Virtuous and Moral Adept and awarded one hundred taels of gold. A plaque inscribed with ‘Moral Cultivation in Tranquility’ is bestowed upon the temple.”

Li Dongyang, Xie Qian, and Liu Jian, the three Grand Secretaries, gathered to discuss. The matter itself seemed minor, yet as it was to be announced to the empire, any misstep would make them the subject of ridicule.

“What do you think? This decree comes out of nowhere. Do any of you know what’s behind it?” Li Dongyang inquired.

Xie Qian, after examining the decree, said, “Isn’t this related to last year’s incident reported by the local authorities of Dujiangyan? I thought His Majesty had already let the matter rest, but it seems he’s kept it in mind.” Xie Qian’s tone revealed his displeasure.

“The county magistrate of Dujiangyan, himself a top graduate, should have known better than to dabble in strange tales and supernatural nonsense. In a bid for favor, he claimed some immortal descended from the mountains, bestowing elixirs upon elders to make them youthful overnight. Utter nonsense! He has wasted his education in the classics!” Liu Jian criticized sharply, while Li Dongyang merely smiled in silence.

“Still, this is a trifling matter. So long as that charlatan is not allowed to enter the capital and deceive His Majesty with talk of alchemy and mercury, there’s little point in obstructing this. After all, His Majesty is the sovereign. To let a minor issue sow discord between ruler and minister would be unwise,” Li Dongyang advised, sensing that Liu Jian and Xie Qian were inclined to reject the edict. The dignity of the emperor must not be lightly challenged. If this decree were turned back, who could say it would not provoke His Majesty’s ire? The Grand Secretaries themselves had little to fear, but who among them had no family to worry about?

“Indeed. This does not concern the affairs of state. To contradict His Majesty over this would not be appropriate,” Xie Qian, now advanced in years and less volatile than before, conceded.

“So be it. We shall transmit His Majesty’s edict as commanded. But under no circumstances must that Daoist be permitted to enter the capital and corrupt the court!” Liu Jian concluded firmly.

Unbeknownst to the Grand Secretaries, even as they deliberated, the Marquis of Hening was preparing his baggage at home, readying himself for a journey to Hubei. Meanwhile, a letter from the Emperor to the Prince of Shu was already on its way to the Land of Heaven.

While the imperial edict was being prepared for dispatch to the Xuanguang Temple, Liachen awoke in a stone chamber. Opening his eyes, he saw a room most humble, constructed of ordinary granite, the walls uneven and rough, with moss clinging in the corners. Within was only a single stone bed, and nothing more. Liachen quietly circulated his inner breath to assess his injuries and found that, though grievous, his energy still flowed—given time, he would recover.

He rose from the bed and walked toward the door. But as soon as he stepped outside, he was struck dumb with astonishment, scarcely able to believe his own eyes.

Before him stretched verdant mountains and clear waters, ethereal mist floating in the air. White cranes soared above, auspicious beasts ran freely below, and a great river flowed from the far horizon, threading its way through the mountains. Where was this place?

“Is anyone there?” Liachen shouted. A young deer nearby bolted in fright, and echoes rolled across the distant sky, but no one answered for a long while.

“Wasn’t I struck down by the drought demon? This looks nothing like that monster’s lair or tomb. Here the spiritual energy is thick, the landscape beautiful—a perfect place for cultivation. How could the drought demon have spared me and sent me to such a blessed land?” Full of doubt, Liachen forced himself to set aside his questions. He returned to the stone chamber, sat cross-legged upon the bed, and began to meditate. Whatever the truth, the answer would reveal itself in time. For now, he was at the mercy of others; better to focus on healing his wounds. His previous carelessness had nearly cost him dearly.

Outside, the moon rose and set, the sun followed in turn, as Liachen quieted his mind. Around the hut, he arranged a few simple alarm arrays and devoted himself to recovery. Once healed, he attempted to leave, only to find that no matter how far he walked, he always returned to his starting point. It was clear he was trapped in someone else’s formation. His own skills in arrays were mediocre; unable to break the spell, he could only return to the stone chamber to cultivate, waiting for his host to appear.

In the timeless flow of cultivation, especially in such a secluded paradise, who could say how much time had passed? At last, someone entered his protective formation. Liachen immediately roused himself from meditation. His magical implements had been taken while he was unconscious; unarmed, he had no choice but to prepare for a desperate struggle.

He stepped outside, only to find that it was not the drought demon, but an elderly Daoist of immortal bearing. The old man’s hair was as white as a crane’s, his face youthful, clad in a simple azure robe. A wooden hairpin held his topknot in place, and he leaned lightly on a wooden staff, gazing at Liachen with a gentle smile.

Though surprised, Liachen suppressed his astonishment, bowed deeply, and said, “Boundless blessings upon you, Heavenly Venerable. I did not know the venerable elder was present. I beg your pardon!”