Chapter 58: Journey to Tiger Mountain

Early the next morning, Zhang Chi and his companions were fully prepared, ready to set out for Mount Kuaiji to uncover its mysteries.

Meng Feiyang, tied up with other affairs, could not accompany Zhang Chi and the others any further, and lamented this with great regret. He could only arrange with Zhang Chi that, after the business on Mount Kuaiji was concluded, Zhang Chi must return to the Meng family residence in Shanyin City to find him, and then they would drink heartily together for three days.

Frank and open-hearted, Meng Feiyang paid little heed to his own noble lineage—a rarity among the aristocracy. Zhang Chi was eager to befriend such a man and readily agreed.

Their plans set, they left the room and gathered in the grand hall of the Immortal Tavern.

There, Miss Ruoshui already awaited them, dressed in a different attire. The night before, she had told Zhang Chi she wished to accompany him up the mountain; thus today, she wore no makeup. Though her outfit lacked the enchanting allure of the previous evening, it lent her the fresh and delicate air of a girl next door.

Indeed, a beauty in any attire possesses her own unique charm, Zhang Chi could not help but sigh inwardly.

After parting with Meng Feiyang, the group mounted their horses and rode out of Shanyin City, heading straight for Mount Kuaiji.

Upon reaching the base of the mountain, a sweeping view unfolded before them—endless verdant peaks rolling into the distance. Zhang Chi had tracked Manager Wu into these mountains the previous night, but darkness had obscured the landscape. Now, in daylight, the mountains appeared neither high nor as perilous as Mount Hua or Mount Huang, yet their lush, unbroken expanse stretched for miles. With such terrain, the followers of the Five Bushels of Rice Sect could easily hide, and even if imperial troops came to suppress them, the mountains would grant ample room for maneuver.

As they approached the mountain, Miss Ruoshui reined in her horse and said, “The Celestial Masters have gathered many followers in Mount Kuaiji, most of whom are displaced commoners. If we ascend on horseback, it will surely arouse suspicion.”

During the Wei and Jin dynasties, horses were rare in the south, and few commoners rode them. Now, with Zhang Chi and his companions astride fine steeds, they hardly resembled refugees.

To proceed on horseback would inevitably draw attention. Since their purpose was to secretly seek news of Jiuniang, discretion was best. Furthermore, Bai Xue, Zhang Chi’s trusted horse, was intelligent and would not wander off.

With this in mind, Zhang Chi decided they would dismount and continue on foot.

Miss Ruoshui, once a sacred maiden of the Celestial Masters, knew the mountain paths well. Guided by her, the group avoided many detours, taking hidden trails deep into Mount Kuaiji.

“Beyond this ridge lies the place where, after taming the floods, Yu the Great convened the feudal lords and was worshipped by the Sea God. The sacred ground of the Celestial Masters is here,” Miss Ruoshui explained after a long trek, pointing ahead.

“Brother Zhang, General Canghuai, who once sought your life, was a member of the Five Bushels of Rice Sect. Now that we are in their stronghold, we must tread carefully,” Santong whispered in warning as they neared the sect’s sanctum.

“I must advise you not to venture recklessly, young master,” Miss Ruoshui added, hoping to persuade Zhang Chi to reconsider.

Zhang Chi only smiled. “As I’ve said, if we wish to rescue Jiuniang, how can we hope for success without braving the tiger’s den?”

Though Santong was more fond of literary pursuits and not always familiar with such sayings, he understood this one and felt a surge of courage. “Indeed! No matter how fierce the tiger, there are those who hunt them. I shall join you, Brother Zhang, and be a tiger-slayer on this mountain.”

Daoxuan, standing behind Santong, rapped him on the forehead. “You, a tiger-slayer? You’d be lucky not to get eaten.”

Used to Daoxuan’s jests, Santong simply rubbed his head and chuckled.

Suddenly, Miss Ruoshui exclaimed, “Oh no!”

“What is it?” Zhang Chi asked.

“The mountain is full of Celestial Masters' followers. To enter, you must disguise yourself as one of them,” she replied.

“That’s simple enough,” Zhang Chi said, glancing at his own attire. “Do I need to dress like a Daoist priest?”

“That’s unnecessary,” Miss Ruoshui smiled. “The Celestial Masters are at odds with the Buddhists. You can pass as a follower, but this young monk cannot.”

She referred, of course, to Daoxuan. Zhang Chi realized the issue—Daoxuan was a Buddhist, dressed in monk’s robes. Reluctantly, Zhang Chi decided, “In that case, Daoxuan should wait outside for us.”

Though concerned for Zhang Chi’s safety, Daoxuan had no alternative but to stay behind, watching as Zhang Chi, Santong, and Miss Ruoshui disappeared over the ridge.

As Zhang Chi looked ahead, the slopes opened out to reveal simple villages scattered across the landscape, each separated by only a short distance, their fields neatly divided.

“We have reached the outskirts of the sacred ground. From this moment, we are ‘Ghost Soldiers,’” Miss Ruoshui said with a playful pout.

“What are ‘Ghost Soldiers’?” Santong asked curiously.

“In the Celestial Masters’ sect, novice followers are called ‘Ghost Soldiers.’ The next rank is ‘Libationer,’ and above that is the ‘Grand Libationer.’ The leader of the sect is known as the ‘Master Sovereign.’ This is how members address each other. Be careful not to say anything out of place—you could be discovered,” Miss Ruoshui explained.

Zhang Chi and Santong nodded silently and followed Miss Ruoshui through the villages, making their way up the mountain.

Yet, the sacred ground of the Five Bushels of Rice Sect seemed much like any ordinary settlement. There were farmlands and crowds of people; a single village housed many families, and even women and men lived together without separation, showing no concern for propriety.

Perhaps this was the power of faith, Zhang Chi thought, shaking his head.

At first, Zhang Chi was puzzled by the lack of patrols, but after passing several villages, he noticed that the higher they climbed, the stricter the defenses became. Near the summit, guard posts had been set up.

Miss Ruoshui led Zhang Chi and Santong to one such checkpoint, where a guard blocked their path, calling out, “The Lord Lao decrees!” Miss Ruoshui replied with a smile, “The Alliance of Orthodoxy prevails.” With that, the guard let them pass.

Zhang Chi surmised these were the sect’s passwords and made a mental note to remember them. He kept silent, following Miss Ruoshui as they passed three or four more posts, each with a different password, until they reached a larger village. Here, the crowd of followers was thinner. Miss Ruoshui pointed to a prominent house in the center, her voice tinged with bitterness, “This is the heart of the sacred ground. I once lived here myself.”

That house now belonged to the sect leader—the murderer of Miss Ruoshui’s father. No wonder her expression was so grim. As Zhang Chi pondered this, a sudden clamor rang out in the village—a bronze gong sounded nine times. Startled, Santong thought they had been discovered, grabbed Zhang Chi’s sleeve, and prepared to flee, but in his panic, he realized there was nowhere to hide.

Miss Ruoshui caught Santong’s arm and laughed. “Don’t be alarmed. The gong sounding nine times signals a ritual is about to begin. They’re not coming for you.”