Chapter Twenty: The Way of Gods? The Way of Immortals?

Returning to the Xuangguang Temple, Liaochan resumed his leisurely days. Having successfully forged his Golden Core, he gained an additional eight hundred years of life, and thus no longer needed to anxiously strive for further advancement. The path of cultivation requires both tension and relaxation; to pause and quietly reflect on what has been gained each day is, in itself, a necessary aspect of pursuing immortality and the Dao.

The little fox finally opened its eyes during the days when Liaochan entered the mountains, and now it could run wildly all about the temple. Each day, Liaochan watched as Yunhua and the fox shouted and chased each other, and he could not help but recall the white fox that had passed away. Amidst the verdant mountains and flowing streams, to rest for eternity in the very woods where one was born—could that not also be a form of returning to one’s roots, a kind of happiness for falling leaves? As he pondered, Liaochan gradually became lost in thought, sinking into an inexplicable reverie from which he could not extricate himself.

After some time, the fox suddenly appeared from who knows where, slipping to Liaochan’s side and climbing up his lap, then onto his chest. Immersed in his own world, Liaochan felt a sudden tickling at his neck. Snapping back to awareness, he looked down to find the little fox curled up on his chest, its fluffy tail continually brushing against his neck—the source of the tickling. Startled, Liaochan wondered how his state of mind had become so fragile. Was it that his inner demons had not been vanquished? Rising, he cradled the fox in his arms and began pacing the courtyard, his mind restless with suspicion. Was there a problem with his mental state, or was there another reason? Try as he might, he could not unravel it, nor was there anyone he could consult.

Just then, Yunhua burst in, her forehead beaded with sweat. Spotting the fox, her eyes lit up. “I knew you’d be hiding with Master! Think that hiding in his lap means I can’t do anything to you? Tell me, where did you stash my flower garland?” With that, she lunged at Liaochan, reaching for the little fox. The fox, unwilling to be caught, scrambled up onto Liaochan’s head. Yunhua, unable to reach, jumped up and down, trying in vain to grab its tail. So disrupted, Liaochan could no longer dwell on his concerns and decided to let the matter rest for now. He resolved to someday seek counsel from renowned Daoist elders to see if there were any classical records of such an experience.

A few days later, someone arrived to resolve Liaochan’s doubts. The forty-eighth Celestial Master, Zhang Yanyu, leader of Mount Longhu, came in person to congratulate him on achieving the Golden Core. He also brought a secret imperial edict: “The court summons Daoist Master Liaochan, newly invested as Virtuous and Moral Immortal, to proceed urgently to the capital.” Liaochan knew that the reigning Emperor Hongzhi had little time left, but had not expected to be regarded as a last hope. He could only give a wry smile—traveling to the capital was not so simple, and to extend the emperor’s life was an even greater matter.

Clearly, Celestial Master Zhang knew what it meant for a cultivator to be summoned to the capital for the purpose of prolonging the emperor’s life, so he did not press Liaochan. He merely delivered the imperial command and considered his duty done. After making arrangements for the guests from Mount Longhu, Liaochan accompanied Celestial Master Zhang to his secluded meditation chamber for a private discussion.

In an age when the Way of Heaven had not faded and spiritual energy still abounded, the achievement of the Golden Core would have called for a grand ceremony to announce it to the world. But now, with the decline of the spiritual era, cultivators were as rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Whether outsiders knew or not hardly mattered—there would be no more bustling sects exchanging cultivation resources and insights. Liaochan did not know how many in the world could still embark on the path of immortality, nor how many had reached the level beyond Golden Core. At the very least, aside from Xuanxuzi, he had met none stronger than himself, including the Celestial Master before him. Yet he dared not show any disrespect; the Celestial Master’s lineage led the Daoist world and had endured for a thousand years as its leader. Although this man before him had modest power—barely at the Foundation Establishment stage, perhaps only in the Qi Refining or Flower God phase—his knowledge surely surpassed that of a mere self-taught cultivator like Liaochan.

Once seated, Liaochan could not wait to share his recent troubles with his state of mind. After listening, Celestial Master Zhang pondered for a moment and said, “There’s no need to worry; it isn’t an issue with your Daoist heart. It seems you are on the verge of attaining the path of divinity.”

For a moment, Liaochan could not accept this. He was cultivating immortality—how could the path of divinity be possible?

Seeing his confusion, Celestial Master Zhang chuckled. “In these days, cultivators are exceedingly rare. You, Immortal Liaochan, have no master’s guidance, nor peers to confer with, so it’s not surprising you don’t know. Within the Celestial Master’s lineage, which has lasted over a thousand years, there are indeed records similar to your case. It is likely because you have manifested before the people, been enshrined in temples, and received offerings and the power of their prayers. As long as your Daoist heart remains steadfast and you are not ensnared by the path of divinity, you can in fact borrow its power to cultivate divine abilities. And if the path of immortality is ever blocked, you would still have the divine path as an alternative. It is by no means a misfortune.”

With this, Liaochan’s heart was set at ease. The two then discussed their cultivation experiences. Celestial Master Zhang had the benefit of generations of transmission; Liaochan, practical experience. Their conversation was lively and rewarding for both. After the welcoming banquet, Liaochan returned to his quarters and found Yunhua, with the fox draped around her neck, busy inventorying the gifts brought by the Mount Longhu entourage—a picture of pure avarice. Liaochan smiled and left her to it, returning to his own meditation.

For three days, Celestial Master Zhang debated the mysteries of the Dao with Liaochan. When it was time to return to his own sect, Liaochan felt reluctant to part and promised to visit Mount Longhu in the future. Only as he was leaving did Celestial Master Zhang reveal the true reason for his personal visit: since the defeat of Daoism in its struggle against Buddhism during the Yuan Dynasty, the Daoist sects had suffered greatly, with many precious texts lost to the flames. As the leader of Daoism, Zhang had watched its decline with a heavy heart. Now, with news of Liaochan’s successful formation of the Golden Core, how could he not rejoice at the prospect of Daoism’s revival? As for Xuangguang Temple surpassing Mount Longhu, one need only look to Wudang for perspective—Celestial Master Zhang, as the head of Daoism and a direct descendant of the tradition, was not someone outsiders could threaten.

With Celestial Master Zhang’s departure, Liaochan, too, had to prepare for his journey to the capital. Now that the imperial edict had arrived, whether he could save the emperor was a matter of ability, but whether he would go or not was a matter of attitude.

At the start of October, Liaochan set out for the capital, accompanied by Yunhua, who in turn brought along the little fox. Liaochan had intended to travel alone, but when Yunhua learned that her master was headed to the capital, she insisted on coming, leaving Liaochan with no choice but to bring along these two troublesome companions.