Chapter 54: So It Was All a Scheme (Part II)

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(Due to work commitments, there was a brief hiatus in updates. I sincerely apologize. Updates will resume today, and I will accelerate the pace to make up for the lost time.)

The three of them left the Immortals’ Pavilion and went to fetch their horses. Only then did Zhang Chi notice that there were still four horses. It seemed that Manager Wu, in his haste to flee, had not dared to ride off for fear of drawing attention, which conveniently left an extra mount for Meng Feiyang. The three mounted their horses, and Santong asked, “Brother Zhang, Dao Xuan has gone to chase after that old man, but how are we to track them?”

“Dao Xuan will have left marks at the corners along the main road. We just need to follow his signs,” Zhang Chi replied. With Dao Xuan’s martial prowess, tailing Manager Wu and leaving clear signs would have been effortless. So, the trio kept a sharp eye out at each turn, and sure enough, they found obvious marks left by Dao Xuan. Following them, they soon arrived at the southern edge of the city.

The road grew ever more remote until they finally stopped before a Daoist temple.

The temple was called the Purple Cloud Temple, surrounded by broad bamboo groves, tranquil and serene. Its secluded location befitted the Daoist ideal of transcending the mortal world and forgetting oneself. Santong was delighted. “Brother Zhang, you were right! Clearly, Manager Wu did not tell the truth. Since those Daoists told him to come to Kuaiji, there must be a meeting place. With the temple built in such a secluded spot, this must be it.”

Zhang Chi agreed. “Keep your voice down. We don’t want to alert them. Let’s go in quietly.”

Meng Feiyang, a prominent figure among the gentry, had never done anything so furtive. Yet, many of his kind led idle lives, always seeking excitement—perhaps that was why drugs like the Five Stones Powder were so popular among them. At this moment, Meng Feiyang was even more excited than Zhang Chi, who had actually taken the powder. He whispered enthusiastically, “Yes, yes, let’s tie our horses and sneak in!”

The other two did as suggested, securing their mounts before slipping into the temple. Though unassuming and modest in size, the temple’s layout was as complete as any ordinary Daoist temple. After making a circuit of the grounds, however, they found it completely deserted. What’s more, contrary to Zhang Chi’s expectations, the temple did not enshrine the usual Three Pure Ones or Four Sovereigns—instead, though there were three figures on the altar, they were not the Three Pure Ones.

Seeing Zhang Chi’s confusion, Meng Feiyang explained, “The Way of the Five Pecks of Rice venerates the Three Officials of Heaven, Earth, and Water, calling them the Three Great Emperors. That’s why the main hall enshrines those three, not the more commonly seen deities.”

“I see,” Zhang Chi nodded. But after searching the temple, they found no further signs left by Dao Xuan. Perplexed, Zhang Chi wondered aloud, “Could this not be the rendezvous point for Manager Wu and the Daoists?”

Yet, on reflection, it didn’t seem right. Since Dao Xuan had left his mark, it meant he had been here—perhaps Manager Wu had moved on to another place after arriving. With this in mind, Zhang Chi went back outside the temple gates for a closer look and, sure enough, discovered another mark left by Dao Xuan, pointing further south.

Meng Feiyang, still thrilled by the spirit of adventure, had been disappointed at finding nothing, but now his curiosity flared again. “Let’s fetch the horses quickly and follow the trail further!”

They mounted up and continued southward, passing beyond the southern city limits of Kuaiji. Not far ahead loomed Mount Kuaiji, extending for hundreds of miles—not high, but famed for producing many illustrious people.

“Up ahead is Mount Kuaiji,” Meng Feiyang, acting as guide, explained as they rode along Dao Xuan’s trail, “Though this mountain lacks the grandeur of the great scenic peaks, it is the holy land of the Way of the Five Pecks of Rice.”

“This mountain isn’t particularly high or dangerous. Why did they choose it as their sacred ground?” Santong asked, puzzled.

“Don’t be fooled by its modest appearance; its history runs deep,” Meng Feiyang launched into an explanation, drawing on historical sources. “In ancient times, Yu the Great, with near-mythical powers, quelled the floods and summoned the Rain Master and the Wind Lord to help. He used lightning as his whip, thunder as his wheels, and gathered all the feudal lords at Mount Kuaiji, even drawing the Sea God to pay homage. From then on, the floods ceased and peace reigned across the land.”

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Santong listened in amazement as Meng Feiyang continued, “The Way of the Five Pecks of Rice venerates the Three Great Emperors of Heaven, Earth, and Water. As you saw in the temple, these are the very deities enshrined there, with the Water Official given the place of honor between Heaven and Earth. Because the Sea God paid homage to Yu the Great at Mount Kuaiji, this mountain became their sacred land.”

“Brother Meng, your knowledge truly spans the ages,” Zhang Chi praised.

Meng Feiyang chuckled modestly. Not showing off, he was simply fulfilling his duty as a guide, so he went on, “It was the First Emperor of Qin who climbed this mountain and ordered Li Si to inscribe a stone stele here—a sixty-character inscription now monopolized by the Five Pecks of Rice sect. They claim the mandate of heaven, which is why they gather their followers here in rebellion.”

“If the sect is so powerful here, why doesn’t the court send an army to suppress them?” Santong was baffled by their influence.

“The court would like to, but with the great families now rebelling and Wang Gong chosen as their leader to attack Jiankang, and the northern tribes stirring as well, the court has neither the time nor the strength to deal with this place. The Five Pecks of Rice sect has taken advantage of the turmoil to plot against Jiankang and now amasses forces in Mount Kuaiji.”

So that was it. Zhang Chi understood the situation more clearly now; though the siege of Jiankang had been lifted, the rebellion of the great clans was far from over. But he cared little for these grand affairs—his only concern was rescuing the Wine Maiden from the clutches of the Five Pecks of Rice sect.

Thus, chatting as they went, the three followed Dao Xuan’s signs into the Kuaiji mountains. After a short while, they reached a more open part of the hills, but here the trail of marks abruptly stopped.

“There are no more signs—what do we do now?” Santong complained.

Unfamiliar with Dao Xuan’s skills, Meng Feiyang speculated, “This is Five Pecks of Rice territory. Their followers come and go. Could they have captured him?”

His concern wasn’t unfounded, for the sect’s people could be unpredictable, and it would be nothing for them to abduct an outsider. But Santong and Zhang Chi, knowing Dao Xuan’s abilities, had no such worry. If the trail ended here, Dao Xuan must be nearby. Sure enough, after scanning their surroundings, Zhang Chi pointed up into the trees. “Look—there’s Dao Xuan.”

It was indeed Dao Xuan perched atop a tree. Since he had not been on horseback, Zhang Chi and the others had caught up quickly. Dao Xuan, noticing them, signaled for silence before lightly descending to the ground.

His movements were silent as a shadow. Approaching the three, he spoke in a low voice, “Brother Zhang, you’re finally here. I followed Manager Wu to a temple, then saw him meet with that Daoist Shouyin we encountered at the Daoist Monastery. Together, they came here.”

“What are they doing here?” Zhang Chi wondered, since this was a desolate, uninhabited place, not a gathering spot for the sect.

“I’m not sure,” Dao Xuan shook his head. “Up ahead is a solitary grave. It seems they came here specifically to pay their respects.”

“Oh? Take me to see,” Zhang Chi said.

Dao Xuan considered for a moment. “Brother Zhang, get off your horse so the sound of hooves doesn’t alert them. I’ll take you up into the tree to watch.”

“But the tree’s so high—how can I get up there?” Zhang Chi hesitated.

“That’s easy enough. I’ll take you,” Dao Xuan assured him, for such feats were nothing to him.

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Meng Feiyang, curiosity piqued, could not bear to miss out. “I want to see too!”

Lifting a person in each hand and leaping into a tree was no great feat for Dao Xuan. He nodded, making Meng Feiyang beam with delight. Only Santong complained, “And what about me?”

Dao Xuan, amused by Santong’s helplessness, said, “You stay here to watch the horses.” Without waiting for his response, he led Zhang Chi and Meng Feiyang to the base of a large tree, grasped them by the waist, and with a single bound, brought them up to a sturdy bough.

Seated in the tree, Zhang Chi steadied himself and looked out. In the distance, where the mountains opened up, stood a solitary grave. Before it, Manager Wu and Daoist Shouyin stood in silence.

But their demeanor did not suggest they had come to pay respects. Why, then, had they journeyed so deep into Mount Kuaiji to visit a grave?

As Zhang Chi pondered, Meng Feiyang uttered a low exclamation, “Could this be the tomb of Du Zigong?”

“Who was Du Zigong?” Zhang Chi asked softly.

“Du Zigong was a native of Qiantang, once the leader of the Five Pecks of Rice sect in Jiangnan. He commanded great respect in Kuaiji and was followed by many locals, both gentry and commoner, but died mysteriously. It’s said he was buried somewhere in these mountains, though no one knows exactly where,” Meng Feiyang explained.

“Then how do you know this grave is his?” Zhang Chi pressed.

“I’m only guessing,” Meng Feiyang admitted. “The Five Pecks of Rice sect worships the Water God, and their followers are mostly given water burials. Only Du Zigong was interred in Mount Kuaiji, so this might be his grave.”

His reasoning made sense, and Zhang Chi silently agreed. The name Du Zigong, however, stirred something in his memory—he felt sure he’d heard it mentioned before, but could not recall where or by whom.

Logically, he had little connection with Daoists, so why did the name seem familiar? He racked his brain—was it after arriving in Shanyin? But in the city, he had gone nowhere except the “Worldly Immortals’ Pavilion,” the brothel.

Suddenly, Zhang Chi uttered a soft cry. He remembered: on the second floor of the brothel, in a moment of passion with Miss Ruoshui, she had vaguely mentioned that she was waiting to avenge her master. When Zhang Chi had asked who her master was, she had answered—

“My master is Du Zigong—Du Zigong is my master.” He remembered it clearly; that was exactly what Miss Ruoshui had said!