Chapter Ten: The Taoist Priest

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Jingyang Village was sparsely populated, yet its territory was vast, with fifty-eight households scattered about, stretching all the way to the foothills of a mountain range. The mountain was called Maziling—a mere low ridge with sparse trees.

Nestled by both mountain and stream, from a geomancer’s eyes the village’s location seemed to possess an auspicious energy. No wonder, then, that this year a young prodigy named Chen Jianchen emerged from Jingyang, ranking first in all three rounds of the county’s child scholars’ exam.

The Temple of the Earth God sat at the base of Maziling. It was a modest structure, no more than two fathoms square. Flanking the temple’s entrance were two grand locust trees, while inside, an effigy of the Earth God was enshrined. On the first and fifteenth days of each month, villagers would come to burn incense and pray. As for A’bao’s resting place—it was a humble bedding laid behind the idol, on the open ground.

A’bao was fond of cleanliness. She had long since treated the temple as her own home, and kept it spotless at all times.

Dusk gathered, and a drowsy gloom settled over the land.

When Chen Jianchen and his companion arrived at the temple, they found it empty—no sign of any Daoist priest.

“Don’t tell me we’ve missed him again?”

Chen Jianchen was greatly disappointed.

“Liuxian, over there…” A’bao suddenly spoke, pointing ahead.

Following the direction of her finger, Chen Jianchen saw, at the foot of Maziling not far off, beneath a pine tree, a Daoist priest sitting cross-legged on the ground in meditation.

It was the very Daoist from Mount Laoshan he had encountered earlier at the tavern.

Why had he wandered off to meditate there, behaving so mysteriously?

Chen Jianchen muttered under his breath, then said to A’bao, “A’bao, go to my house and tell my mother I’ll be late coming home because of some business, and she shouldn’t wait dinner for me.”

A’bao asked, “Liuxian, what are you going to do?”

“That’s not for you to worry about—just go quickly, or my mother will fret.”

Obedient as ever, A’bao gave a soft reply and ran back toward the village.

Chen Jianchen drew a deep breath and strode straight for the Daoist.

He moved swiftly, and in moments reached the spot where the priest sat. Just as he was about to speak, the figure before him vanished in a blink—a sudden, bewildering disappearance that startled Chen Jianchen out of his wits.

“Huh? Where did he go?”

He anxiously looked around, only to spot the Daoist’s silhouette halfway up Maziling, now seated cross-legged atop a millstone-sized boulder.

The distance from here to the mountainside was at least two or three hundred meters. How had the priest managed it?

Chen Jianchen’s pupils contracted sharply—there was certainly more than met the eye!

As a transmigrator, his mind was far less rigid than that of ordinary scholars. He had already suspected this world was no simple place, that “supernatural” beings might exist. Could this Laoshan priest be a hidden master, perhaps even a terrestrial immortal of legend?

Chen Jianchen’s heart hammered wildly—excitement, anxiety, and a trace of unease mingled within him. The priest’s identity and intentions were unknown; who could say what manner of man he was? If he proved capricious and was somehow offended, would it not spell disaster?

Not everyone, after all, was so fortunate as to be instantly recognized by a master as a once-in-a-generation talent and scooped up as a disciple.

Such hopes were not unreasonable, but they mustn’t cloud judgment.

Chen Jianchen hesitated inwardly, but soon resolved himself—opportunities like this were rare; if missed, who knew when another would come? Besides, if the Laoshan priest meant harm, there would have been no need for all these elaborate displays.

With his decision made, he began to climb.

Ever since he had eaten that mysterious fruit, Chen Jianchen’s body had changed dramatically—rejuvenated and brimming with vigor, he now ascended the slope with the speed and strength of a dragon or tiger. In no time, he reached the mountainside.

Whoosh!

At that very moment, the Daoist vanished again from the boulder.

Damn it, is he doing this just to mess with me?

Chen Jianchen looked around desperately, and saw the priest a few meters above, on a narrow mountain path. In one hand he held a bamboo sign, in the other he shook an ancient bronze bell, its chime echoing through the air. As the bell rang, the Daoist sang:

“All say the life of an immortal is grand,
But where, pray tell, does one find such a man?
White clouds and clear wind drift through my dream,
And worldly troubles drift away, unseen…”

“Master! Please wait!” Chen Jianchen called out, but the Daoist ignored him and continued up the mountain at an unhurried pace.

Irritated now, Chen Jianchen balled his fists and chased after him. Yet no matter how he sped up, the distance between them stubbornly remained just over ten feet; he could not gain an inch.

How strange!

One ahead, one behind, they soon reached the summit of Maziling.

At last, the Daoist stopped. Turning, he bowed and said, “Young sir, you have pursued this poor priest so persistently. What is it you seek?”

After that strenuous chase, Chen Jianchen was drenched in sweat, but thanks to his robust constitution, he was not even out of breath. He quickly bowed respectfully. “I am Chen Jianchen, a scholar. Greetings, Master. May I have your name?”

The Daoist replied calmly, “I am Qingyun of Mount Laoshan.”

“So it is Master Qingyun—my apologies for the intrusion.” While exchanging pleasantries, Chen Jianchen’s mind raced, searching for a way to broach his true purpose.

Qingyun glanced at him, his gaze sharp as if piercing straight through his thoughts. “If you have no real business, I shall take my leave.”

“There is something—please wait!” Chen Jianchen called hurriedly. “Do you recall what you said today at the tavern?”

Qingyun smiled faintly. “Of course I remember. But my words then were meant for another gentleman.”

“He is my close friend… Master, here’s what happened…” Without further delay, Chen Jianchen recounted everything from the roadside rescue of the girl onward, pouring out the entire story.

Qingyun pondered a moment, then asked, “You suspect that young woman?”

“Indeed.”

Qingyun nodded, studying Chen Jianchen. This youth, he thought, not only possessed a refined physique but also a sharp mind—truly remarkable. Yet, as a scholar with an official title, he might someday be ensnared by worldly ambition—what a pity… He dismissed the thought and said, “Whether the woman is at fault is unclear, but I can say with certainty that your friend is in grave trouble. Forgive my candor, but when I saw him today, he looked sickly and shrouded in an inescapable yin aura—as though his vital yang essence had been greatly depleted, a clear sign of being preyed upon by malign spirits. I hope you will not accuse me of superstition.”

Chen Jianchen replied solemnly, “Rest assured, Master—I am not one to be bound by narrow thinking.”

Qingyun laughed. “Very well. Then you chased after me to ask that I help your friend?”

Chen Jianchen cupped his hands. “Exactly so. I beg you to lend your aid.”

After all that elaborate maneuvering, Qingyun’s identity as a recluse of otherworldly abilities was all but confirmed. Chen Jianchen harbored no more doubts. What methods would this Daoist employ to banish evil spirits? He was eager to witness it for himself—perhaps, who could say, another stroke of destiny awaited him…