Chapter One: Clouds Gathering and Scattering

Clouds drift and roll by in a single day; flowers bloom and fade, and another year slips away. Once again, it was a perfect morning. Liaochen awoke from meditation, stepped out of his cave, and felt as if “all the emerald mountains filled my eyes, and clear waters with warbling orioles planted seeds of joy in my heart.” His mood soared—if only his spiritual sense hadn’t detected a certain fox dashing home in a panic.

As the saying goes, “The early bird catches the worm.” But for the worm that rises early, the outcome is less than fortunate.

Yunhuzi was always up before dawn. Ever since he’d entered the Dao and fought a young dog—discovering, to his delight, his own formidable combat skills—he’d been unstoppable. With a bit of magic at his disposal, he lorded over the hills within a ten-mile radius of the cave, strutting about with unmatched bravado. Whenever he had free time, he would rush out to chase cats and dogs, earning no small amount of glory for the fox clan. Just last night, he’d slipped out again, roamed for hours, and was now hurrying back as daylight crept over the horizon. If Liaochen or Yunhua woke to find him missing, the consequences would be dire—especially with Liaochen, who would surely lock him up for ten days or half a month, reciting Daoist scriptures in his ears the whole time. The closer he got to the cave, the more cautious he became. When he was still dozens of meters away, Yunhuzi stopped running, crept on tiptoe, and headed for the pool—he’d learned this the hard way. In the past, he’d been caught returning, muddied and exhausted, and it was only when Yunhua inadvertently let slip that the fox always came home covered in mud that the truth was uncovered. Realization dawned on him: now, every time he returned, he would roll in the pool first, then dry his fur somewhere sunny, erasing all evidence.

His plan went smoothly; he reached the pool unscathed and was just about to leap in when he suddenly found himself airborne—caught by the scruff of the neck. Startled, he instinctively twisted around and snapped at his captor, only to find his teeth sinking into a stone. No wonder his jaw ached! Looking up, he saw a sly, triumphant smile—the game was up. His ears drooped, his strength drained away, and even his splendid white tail hung limp, awaiting judgment.

Yunhuzi was a habitual runaway, but Liaochen no longer worried much. He’d already swept the surrounding mountains clean of tigers, wolves, and boars, ensuring the safety of Yunhua and this fox in particular, who—unlike wild foxes—would stand no chance against predators. Weighing the fox in his hand, Liaochen mused idly that it was nearly ten pounds—enough for a generous stew. At that thought, the fox shivered, all four paws drooping meekly.

Liaochen tossed the fox into the pool, scrubbing him as if doing laundry, until his mottled coat turned snowy white again. He placed Yunhuzi on a sun-warmed boulder to dry off, then sat nearby and watched the damp fox intently, until the poor creature’s fur stood on end.

“Is my fox too clever for its own good?” Liaochen wondered. “Smarter than many people—understands human speech, cultivates on its own, knows to hurry home at dawn for inspection, and even remembers to clean up before entering. Is this really a fox? No, it’s a veritable fox spirit!”

While Liaochen mused, Yunhua dashed out from the cave, flushed and excited, shouting, “Master, master! I can sense qi—I finally feel it!” Her elation overflowed in her voice. Liaochen too was pleased, though not surprised. Yunhua had studied under him for three years; it was time for her to enter the path. It had only been surprising that the fox had made progress ahead of her.

“Heh, that’s wonderful,” Liaochen said, beaming. “Now you must practice diligently, never slacken. Progress in spiritual energy comes slowly—it’s a process of steady accumulation. You must work hard, but don’t rush so much as to risk losing your way.”

“Yes, Master!” Yunhua replied joyfully. Spotting the heap of white fur drying on the rock, she promptly scooped up the fox, hugging him close despite his dampness. In high spirits, she seized his long ears and kneaded them, making Yunhuzi yelp loudly. Liaochen shook his head, letting them play, but his thoughts turned serious. Relying on the scant wisps of spiritual energy in nature was far too slow—the time gained in longevity would never outpace the time spent cultivating. If things went on like this, the dream of immortality would remain only a beautiful illusion. He had to find a way to increase the ambient spiritual energy, or else Yunhua’s recent breakthrough would be a rare occurrence, and his own progress would continue to stagnate. Cultivation was like rowing upstream; to stop was to fall behind.

Having decided, Liaochen told Yunhua he was heading back inside to consult the records of past masters—especially the notes from the era of Patriarch Lu—to see how they had managed to gather spiritual energy and achieve enlightenment.

The cave was filled with books, all moved from Xuanguang Monastery, which was now bustling with construction and too chaotic to keep precious texts safe. Liaochen had brought them to his own retreat for safekeeping.

He spent half a month poring over the texts. In the end, disappointment mingled with hope. Methods for gathering spiritual energy existed. The first was the Spirit Gathering Array, varying in strength and scale, which siphoned energy from the surroundings and concentrated it, using a grand Five Elements cycle to ensure the energy accumulated and remained abundant over time, potentially transforming a mountain into a blessed land. But the materials needed for such an array—Liaochen had never even heard of them, let alone possessed any. He committed the knowledge to memory, hoping to visit famous mountains and sacred sites in search of the required items. The second method was geomancy—finding spiritual veins in the earth—but after thousands of years, all such veins had long since been discovered and exhausted. Still, Liaochen was reluctant to give up; geomancy was his greatest skill, though he’d had few opportunities to use it. As for refining external elixirs, suitable ingredients for his own level would be nearly impossible to find now, though there might still be some for Yunhua and the fox. After all, he’d managed to gather them over several years before. At worst, he would search again—better yet if he could cultivate some himself, but that too came back to the issue of spiritual energy.

Several months passed in a flash. Yunhua’s cultivation progressed slowly; so too did the little fox’s—the cherry-sized fireball it could conjure remained stubbornly unchanged in size. Liaochen realized he had to act. The Spirit Gathering Array offered the most lasting solution; external elixirs would yield the quickest results. He resolved to go down the mountain—but first, he needed to make arrangements for Yunhua and the fox.

Yunhua produced a large-headed doll from her sleeve—the little wraith they’d rescued on the grasslands. After weeks of scripture recitation and purification by incense, all resentment had been washed away; she was now a pure spirit. Liaochen summoned her, accepted her as his second apprentice (with the fox as the first), and bestowed a Daoist name from the Yun generation—since she was a spirit, she would be called Yunling. Overjoyed, Yunling bowed in gratitude. Liaochen accepted her salute and taught her some basic ghost-cultivation methods from the texts, leaving the rest up to her own destiny. After all, ghost cultivation differed from the living: while the living drew on the vital energies of heaven and earth to refine spirit and body, spirits relied on moonlight and the reversal of Yin and Yang, taking a direct path to the Yang Spirit. The two paths were entirely distinct. That night, Yunling would go out to gather moonlight, conveniently keeping an eye on the fox, who had a penchant for nocturnal escapades—ensuring he would not fall prey to a predator. With his meager skills, the fox was a match for rabbits and other small animals, but would be nothing more than a snack for larger beasts. With this in mind, Liaochen warned the fox, who was playing dead on the stone table: “If you dare sneak out again, I won’t wait for a wild beast to punish you—I’ll find a fierce vixen for you to marry, and see if you’re still so free then.” Yunhuzi only half understood, but wagged his tail in acknowledgment. Yunhua and Yunling both voiced their agreement at once; sensing danger, Yunhuzi began to howl, and the cave was soon filled with cheerful chaos. No one listened to Liaochen’s words. He sighed, feeling the dignity of a master slipping away. Yunhua was more like a daughter than a disciple, and he doted on her as such; as for Yunhuzi, clever and incorrigible, there was nothing to be done—sometimes he even considered returning him to the white fox’s care. Speaking of which, Liaochen thought it was time to visit that lonely white fox and share news of her little one.

The next day, Liaochen set up a triple-layered defensive array—illusion, confusion, and lethal force—around the cave to protect Yunhua and her companions during cultivation. The first two arrays would deter intruders; the killing array, powered by a Five Elements lightning formation, was sufficient to obliterate any with malicious intent. He stocked the cave with provisions to last two years, then bade farewell to a teary-eyed Yunhua, a jubilant Yunhuzi, and a reluctant Yunling. With the Seven-Star Lantern and his peachwood sword, he descended the mountain.

His journey would take him to gather materials for the Spirit Gathering Array and alchemical herbs, to visit sacred mountains and rivers, and to continue collecting the myriad lights of the human world. Last time, the borrowed lights had shattered his spiritual ignorance, but he still needed to refine his spirit through fire to achieve perfect clarity. If he wished to journey further on the path of cultivation and see more of the world, this step could not be skipped.