Chapter Thirty-Five: Gains and Losses, Falling from Grace

In the seventeenth winter of the Hongzhi reign, the Son of Heaven held a celestial rite at the Temple of Heaven, seeking to avert misfortune and pray for blessings. On the seventh night, the light of the Northern Dipper burst forth, outshining all the stars above. The astrologers proclaimed, “The emperor is favored by Heaven; the Great Ming shall endure in prosperity.”

Within the Palace of the Northern Dipper, Liaochan had just bid farewell to the assembled star officials and was stepping out of the palace gates when a thunderous voice rang out across the sky—“Wicked disciple!” At that, an enormous palm descended from above, blotting out the heavens. Liaochan scarcely had time to react before he was struck by the giant hand and cast down to the mortal world.

With a cry, Liaochan’s soul returned to his body, but darkness swam before his eyes as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Forcing himself to steady his spirit despite his grievous injury, he summoned his power, lifted the peachwood sword, and chanted, “At the command of the Northern Dipper, brilliance shines forth; all is auspicious, the nine heavens ablaze with light.” As his sword slashed downward, the seven stars of the Northern Dipper blazed in the sky, shining together, and the lanterns set for the celestial rite at the Temple of Heaven suddenly flared, their light dancing with the starlight above. Only then did Liaochan’s heart settle. Turning to the Emperor Hongzhi, he said, “The ritual is complete, Your Majesty. Rest assured. At dawn, please be sure to give thanks to the star gods.” With those words, his strength finally failed him, and he collapsed to the ground.

When Liaochan awoke, three days had passed. Opening his eyes, he felt something pressing on his body. Reaching out, he encountered something soft and furry—lifting it, he found a fox. Awakened from its slumber, the fox, not bothering to see who held it, tried to bite the “impertinent paw” that had disturbed it. Yet midway through, it recognized Liaochan was awake and quickly ceased, letting out a long, drawn-out cry instead. Even before the cry faded, the door was flung open and in rushed Yunhua, his disciple, her cheeks still stained with tears, exhaustion etched on her face. Seeing Liaochan awake, she was overwhelmed with relief and threw herself at his side, sobbing, “Master, you nearly frightened your disciple to death!”

Liaochan was mortified and hastily comforted her. “Yunhua, don’t cry. Your master is all right. Hush now; I have something for you to do.” Yunhua stifled her sobs. Liaochan continued, “Go to His Majesty and request the seven star lanterns we used in the ritual. I have need of them. When all is done, we shall return to the mountain.” Wiping her tears, Yunhua nodded, “Yes, Master.” She then turned to the fox, instructing, “Take good care of Master for me. When I return, I’ll get you some roast duck.” Only then did she depart. Liaochan sighed in relief, stroking the fox’s smooth, soft fur, his mind turning over what lay ahead.

Matters of right and wrong, gain and loss, are known only to oneself. Liaochan had defied fate and altered destiny, but not without paying a price. The giant hand that appeared at the end—surely it was his Grandmaster. To go against heaven’s will invites retribution; by striking first, his Grandmaster neither defied fate nor left the debt unpaid, avoiding a greater punishment from the heavens. The injuries were grave, yet his spiritual foundation remained intact—a sign his Grandmaster had planned well. Liaochan had always wished to rival Wudang, so his own temple’s patron deity must not be lesser. Upon his return to the mountain, he would enshrine the Lord of Eastern Glory, offering incense unceasingly—as well as Grandmasters Lü Chunyang and Zhong Hanli. Of course, the seven star gods must not be forgotten, or negotiations in the future would be difficult. He had promised as much: the outer hall would honor the Three Pure Ones, the central hall the three grandmasters, and the rear hall the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper. He sought the seven star lanterns to offer just such veneration. On that final night, the lanterns danced with the starlight, clearly blessed by the Northern Dipper—a rare and powerful ritual artifact, fit to connect directly with the seven stars. As perpetual lamps for the star gods, they would draw incense straight to the celestial palace, facilitate communion with the Dipper, and receive both the wishes and the divine favor of the star gods—a benefit on all sides.

Before long, the Crown Prince came running in, beaming. “I knew it! With your profound mastery, Immortal Liaochan, how could anything go wrong?” Liaochan thanked him for his concern, though inwardly he mused, “He must be one of the rare princes in history who isn’t eager for his father’s early demise and his own ascension to the throne.”

The Crown Prince settled beside Liaochan’s sickbed and chattered on about all that had happened during his unconsciousness. Because of Liaochan’s warning, the emperor had not dared to move, waiting until dawn to thank the star gods before summoning imperial physicians to treat Liaochan. Yet the physicians insisted Immortal Liaochan was in perfect health. Emperor Hongzhi was furious, until the Chief Astronomer remarked, “It is likely a wound to the soul; we mortals can do nothing.” Only then did the emperor relent. During Liaochan’s days of unconsciousness, the emperor and empress visited the Eastern Palace several times each day to check on him.

“Your father’s health has recovered, hasn’t it?” Liaochan asked.

“All thanks to you, Immortal. My father is healed without medicine. My mother is overjoyed; she said to inform her the moment you awoke. I’ve already sent word, so don’t worry.”

Liaochan broke a sweat, finally realizing just how unreliable this famed future emperor truly was. Was that really something to say out loud?

Before long, the emperor and empress arrived together. Liaochan rose to greet them, but the emperor stopped him first. “It is I who should thank Immortal Liaochan for saving my life.” Others might not know the full story, but the emperor, facing him, understood that Liaochan had truly risked everything for the ritual—not only offering his greatest treasures but also storming the celestial court with his very soul, suffering grievous injury as a result. How else to explain his collapse and vomiting of blood upon return, just as the stars above blazed brighter than ever, and the rite’s success?

“Immortal, please accept the deepest gratitude of my wife and myself,” said the emperor, and together with the empress, they prepared to bow. The Crown Prince, seeing his parents about to kneel, followed suit as a dutiful son. Liaochan, flustered and ignoring his own injuries, hurried to stop them. “Your Majesty, you bear the imperial aura of the Purple Tenuity Star; such a salute is not one I, a humble Daoist, can accept. Please, Your Majesty, do not.”

The royal family was bewildered. Liaochan explained, “The emperor’s dragon aura is bound to the Purple Tenuity Star, his station equal to the very Star Lord himself. I dare not accept your obeisance, lest I incur Heaven’s wrath.” Only then did the emperor and empress understand and desist from their intent.

Finally, they turned to official matters of reward. First, the empress, on behalf of Emperor Hongzhi, sincerely thanked Immortal Liaochan for his tireless efforts and outstanding contributions to the emperor and the Ming Dynasty. Then, the emperor declared that, in gratitude for all Liaochan had done—not for some ‘party,’ but for the whole realm—the court would greatly expand the Xuanguang Temple, enshrining the Three Pure Ones, the Lord of Eastern Glory, Zhong Hanli, Lü Chunyang, and the seven star gods, just as Liaochan wished. Further, Liaochan and his disciple Yunhua would be richly rewarded; Yunhua, in particular, would be adopted as the empress’s own daughter, brought into the royal Jade Pavilion, and granted a golden decree—thus becoming a legitimate princess of Ming. Liaochan expressed his gratitude and vowed to redouble his efforts in service to the dynasty’s prosperity, never failing the emperor, empress, crown prince, or the court. Ever higher, ever onward.

All of this was, of course, Liaochan’s own mental embellishment of that day’s conversation with the emperor. Truly, the legacy of China endures through the ages; from ancient times to now, the workings of the court remain unchanged.

A few days later, the court’s rewards were finalized: Liaochan was granted the title “True Man of the Celestial Way, Profound Radiance, Pure Virtue, and Universal Transformation,” a rank above all others. The emperor allocated half a million taels of silver from the imperial treasury to rebuild Xuanguang Temple and cast golden statues of its deities. The wild mountain was formally granted to the temple—thus, the ‘Seal of Mount Hua’ was bestowed. The very next day, Yunhua was honored with the golden decree, adopted as the empress’s daughter, and named “Princess of Peace and Joy.” The generosity of these rewards astonished even Liaochan.

In the days that followed, nobles and officials flocked to pay their respects, overwhelming Liaochan. At last, he left a letter with the Crown Prince, sternly refusing once more the prince’s request to become his disciple on the mountain, and only asked the prince to bid farewell to the emperor and empress on his behalf. Then, taking Yunhua and the little fox, he departed as quietly as he had come.