Chapter Thirty-Six: Ten Thousand Lights Illuminate the Spirit Terrace

Having finished his affairs, he brushed his robe and departed, concealing his achievements and fame in silence. To speak of it is easy, but to act is difficult. On the very day he regained consciousness and began to heal himself with his internal arts, Liaochen discovered that although his golden core remained intact, his spiritual mind was clouded and unclear. Without clarity of mind, his divine sense was absent. Put simply, he possessed all his magical power, yet could not wield it. He was now no different from an ordinary mortal.

Suppressing his restlessness, Liaochen barely managed to entertain the nobles and officials for a few days before losing all interest in further pretense. What use were riches and honor? In the end, they amounted to nothing but a handful of dust after a hundred years. True worth lay only in cultivation and magical power! Thus did Liaochen hastily leave the capital, taking Yunhua with him.

“Master, where are we going?” Yunhua asked, cradling the little fox in her arms.

“Well, Xuanguang Temple is undergoing major repairs. It won’t be peaceful there for two or three years. It’s not the right time to return,” Liaochen mused.

“Why don’t we find a place to settle for now and return once the temple is restored?” he asked for Yunhua’s opinion.

“Sure, sure! Anywhere is fine as long as I’m with you, Master.” Yunhua lifted the fox and asked it, “Isn’t that right, little junior brother?” Liaochen broke into a cold sweat—when had he ever accepted a fox as a disciple?

They arrived at a small town near the capital, ready to find an inn for rest, only to face a more pressing problem: Liaochen had no money. Wealth had always come so easily to him that he’d never given it any thought, and now, having left in haste, he’d forgotten to bring any. If he still had his powers, he could turn a stone into gold, but now, in these straitened times, even a hero could be stymied by a single coin. Liaochen could only ask Yunhua, mortified, “My good disciple, did you bring any money?”

“Ah, Master, do you need money?” Yunhua asked curiously.

“Well, uh, money isn’t of much use to us cultivators, so, um…” Liaochen stammered, unsure what to say.

“Oh, but this is my money, Master. You’ll have to pay me back!” Yunhua carefully produced a silk purse embroidered with a hundred beasts, exquisite in fabric and craftsmanship—clearly an item from the imperial palace.

“Master, do you think this is enough?” Yunhua handed over the purse, reluctant but obedient. Truth be told, Liaochen was surprised Yunhua had any money at all—he’d never given her an allowance, always buying whatever she needed himself. No doubt this was pocket money from the Empress, her godmother. It was easy to imagine how precious this first sum of money was to Yunhua.

Feeling rather embarrassed, Liaochen opened the purse to find it filled with small pieces of pure gold—presumably for Yunhua to use as rewards or gifts. “Don’t worry, you’ll have as much money as you want in the future. I wouldn’t dare keep the fairy Yunhua’s money for myself,” Liaochen consoled her. Still, he thought to himself, though it’s a decent sum, it will run out eventually. Who knows how long it will take for my powers to return? I’ll need to find a way to make this last.

So, a few days later, a new sign appeared in the town: “Quanzhen Clinic.” Doctor Liaochen, apprentice Yunhua, and their unofficial member, Fox Yun, the name Yunhua gave her fox.

The clinic was new and unknown, but Liaochen cared little for fame. Each day, he began teaching Yunhua the basics of calming the mind and sensing qi, laying the foundation for cultivation. Fox Yun listened in, his dark eyes darting about—whether he understood or not, Liaochen didn’t care. The demon clans had their own ways of cultivation; everything depended on the little fox himself.

Business was slow. By day, Liaochen sat in the clinic reading Daoist scriptures, and by night, he racked his brains for a way to restore his mind’s clarity, but could find no solution. All he could do was wait for fate to bring the answer.

Less than a hundred paces from the clinic was a blacksmith’s shop, making a living forging farm tools for the villagers. It wasn’t a road to great wealth, but it was better than most. The blacksmith and his wife had a son, seven or eight years old—the very age to be a handful. One day, the boy saw Fox Yun sleeping on the clinic’s counter—a snowy white figure—and was immediately captivated. He went home and begged his father to buy the fox for him. The blacksmith refused, the boy threw a tantrum, and the father, losing patience, gave him a beating. This, however, was a grave error. The Jian family had only one son per generation, and this child was their precious heir. His grandparents doted on him, and today, when their son dared to strike their beloved grandson, they stormed over in fury, forcing the blacksmith to take his wife and child to the clinic to negotiate for the fox.

Though the blacksmith looked rough, he was gentle at heart. As a child, his father, also a blacksmith, had a sudden fancy and decided not to pass down the family trade, but to raise a family of scholars instead. He forced the boy to attend private school for several years, but alas, scholarly fragrance does not blossom on iron anvil, so he returned to the family trade. Even now, the blacksmith spoke with a certain refinement, earning his family the praise of the neighbors. Otherwise, how could a blacksmith have married the daughter of a local scholar?

When Liaochen saw the family enter, he was slightly surprised, then noticed how the boy’s eyes never left the fox from the moment he walked in. Liaochen thought knowingly, “They want to buy the fox? Even if I were willing, Yunhua would never agree.”

The moment the family entered, the fox awoke from his pleasant nap but, too lazy to move, pretended to sleep on. “Your fox is so snowy white—quite rare,” the blacksmith said, forced by wife and child to begin by complimenting the animal. He didn’t realize that as he spoke, the fox’s ears twitched, clearly listening.

“It’s nothing special—just unusual coloring,” Liaochen replied, keeping an eye on the fox, who was obviously feigning sleep to eavesdrop.

“A rare sight indeed. I’ve heard that such foxes are the most intelligent; in times past, they were considered auspicious—when a white fox appeared, the realm was at peace,” the blacksmith went on, still skirting the main issue. Liaochen found his roundabout approach amusing and waited to see when he would get to the point.

After much circling, it was the blacksmith’s wife who, seeing her son growing desperate, finally spoke frankly: “To be honest, sir, our son finds your fox particularly adorable. We’d like to ask if you’d be willing to part with it for a fair price. Name your terms.” Clearly, she was far more adept than her husband—no wonder she was the scholar’s daughter.

Fox Yun had been enjoying the small talk, but the moment he heard someone wanted to buy him, he shot bolt upright, ears perked and tail bristling, sensing danger and suspecting Liaochen might not be reliable. With a plaintive cry, he dashed to the back to seek Yunhua’s protection.

The fox’s sudden yelp startled everyone in the room. Liaochen chuckled inwardly, “So you understand human speech after all—no use pretending otherwise now.”

Having exposed the fox’s act, Liaochen, in high spirits, did not refuse outright but instead began to recount the fox’s origins to the family, leaving them amazed. When he finished, the blacksmith sighed, “Ah, so that’s how it was. At least that vixen found someone to look after her kit. But those hunters were truly cruel—there’s an old saying against harming pregnant animals. Alas, the ways of the world have declined!”

Liaochen nearly burst out laughing. Such words would have been touching from a scholar, but from a blacksmith, they sounded odd indeed. Clearly, this was the result of his “unorthodox” education.

In the end, the family left empty-handed. But the blacksmith’s son was not so easily discouraged and began to visit the clinic regularly, always bringing meat for the fox. Over time, he grew friendly with Yunhua and Fox Yun, and his attachment faded. The blacksmith’s family, in turn, became close with Liaochen and his companions, and warm relations soon developed between neighbors.

The blacksmith, though lacking in talent, loved the company of learned men. Spending time with Liaochen, he soon discovered not only Liaochen’s profound knowledge, but also that Yunhua seemed well read. Thus, he visited often to chat, and the idle Liaochen welcomed the company. In conversation, the blacksmith could not help but speak of his trade: “Pig iron is full of impurities. No matter how many times you temper it, you can never get rid of them all. Four pounds of raw iron won’t make a pound of refined steel, but steel and iron are fundamentally different…”

Hearing this, Liaochen was struck by a surge of inspiration. He bowed deeply to the blacksmith, saying, “Thank you for your insight!” leaving the blacksmith thoroughly baffled as to what he had said.

After bidding the blacksmith farewell, Liaochen rushed to the back courtyard, calling, “Yunhua, Yunhua, bring those seven lamps here! From today on, we must gather the lights of ten thousand households!”