In the early morning, the rain finally stopped.
The water droplets on the tree were crystal clear, sliding silently from the edges of the leaves and tumbling down. Carried by the wind, they traced a beautiful arc through the air before alighting on Zhang Fan's face.
A cold chill roused Zhang Fan from his dream. He opened his eyes, instinctively about to call out "Master"—but the surroundings were empty; only Lin Jingyu lay beside him, deep in peaceful slumber.
It seemed as though it had all been a dream.
But the crumbled thatched shrine in the distance, and his playmate sleeping soundly at his side, both told him that all of this was real.
He stood there in a daze for a moment, then shook his head and walked over to Lin Jingyu's side, giving him a firm shove. Lin Jingyu muttered a few words and slowly came awake, rubbing his eyes. Before he could say anything, a wave of cold air swept over him, and he couldn't help but sneeze.
He opened his eyes to find himself and Zhang Fan soaking wet, lying beneath a pine tree out in the wilderness. His mind went utterly blank—hadn't he been asleep at home? How had he ended up here?
Zhang Fan shrugged. "No idea, but I'm really cold — let's head back soon."
Lin Jingyu's mind was full of questions, but the cold biting at his body was real. He nodded, scrambled to his feet, and ran with Zhang Fan back toward the village.
Before they even reached the village, the two of them sensed something was wrong. At this hour, the villagers would normally already be up and about, yet today an uncanny silence reigned—not a single soul in sight. Worse still, carried on the morning breeze, there drifted the faint but unmistakable scent of blood.
They exchanged a glance, each reading the shock and doubt in the other's eyes, and quickened their pace in unison, running toward the village. It was not long before the two of them reached the village entrance. Looking inward along the main road from the gate, they saw that on the open ground in the center of Grass Temple Village, all forty-odd households—more than two hundred souls in all, old and young, men and women—lay sprawled across the clearing, their bodies rigid, reduced to corpses. Blood ran in rivers; flies swarmed in chaos; the stench of iron and gore struck them full in the face.
Lin Jingyu and Zhang Fan were suddenly confronted with this terrifying sight. Overcome with fright, they let out a scream and collapsed unconscious.
※※※
He had no idea how much time had passed when Zhang Fan jolted awake with a start, shooting upright and gasping for breath, his hands trembling faintly. In those moments when he had lain unconscious, his mind had been filled with hideous, snarling faces, fresh blood, and bleached bones — a relentless tide of nightmares.
He steadied himself and looked around. It was an ordinary side room with two windows; the furnishings were simple and clean — nothing more than a few pine tables and chairs, a teapot and cups resting upon them.
Taking up half the room was a large connected kang fitted with four sleeping berths. Besides the one he currently lay on, the bedding of the adjacent spot was somewhat disheveled, as though someone had only just risen from it. The other two, however, had their quilts folded with perfect neatness—not a crease out of place.
On the wall directly above the four beds hung a banner, upon which was written a single large character:
The Dao!
By the looks of it, this seemed more like an ordinary room in a roadside inn, or perhaps quarters shared by a few disciples who had come to seek a master and learn their craft.
Zhang Fan sat for a while, and a thought rose unbidden in his heart: perhaps everything last night had been nothing but a nightmare. Perhaps he had been sleeping here all along. Perhaps if he walked out of this room, his mother would be there as she always was, smiling as she scolded him: "You lazy thing!"
He slowly got out of bed, put on his shoes, and walked toward the door, one step at a time.
Half-shut. Through the gap in the door, a breath of wind drifted in—faint, almost imperceptible—carrying a thread of cool.
He walked step by step, yet his hands gripped ever tighter. His heart pounded furiously; he held his breath. In no time, he reached the doorway and laid his hand upon the door.
In that single instant, the wooden door felt heavy as a mountain, dense as iron.
He gritted his teeth, steeled himself, and with a sharp creak, yanked the door open.
The bright outdoor light flooded in all at once, making him squint. Warm, gentle sunlight fell upon him, carrying with it a faint, pleasant warmth.
Yet his heart plummeted, in an instant, into an icehouse.
Outside the door lay a courtyard, with a few pines and cypresses, several clusters of shrubs and grass, and among them a handful of fragrant flowers blooming in quiet contentment. Before the door ran a corridor that led out beyond the courtyard. Some four feet from the door, a flight of steps connected the courtyard to the corridor.
In a corner of the steps sat a lone child, chin cupped in both hands, staring blankly into nothing, utterly still.
Perhaps startled by the sound of the door opening, the child hesitated a moment, then slowly turned his head around.
Lin Jingyu.
Zhang Fan opened his mouth wide, a thousand questions churning in his heart — yet when the words reached his lips, they dissolved into silence.
He wanted to cry out at the top of his lungs again, yet the weight pressing on his chest was so suffocating that, try as he might, not a single sound would come.
Two lines of tears, just like that, silently, slid down.
Two children, just like that, in silence, looked at each other.
From some nameless place in the distance, the faint, clear calls of birds drifted over. The sky was a deep azure, scattered with a few wisps of white cloud.
※※※
Zhang Fan sat on the other side of the steps, head bowed, gazing at the stone-paved path across the courtyard.
Within the courtyard, silence reigned absolute.
Time passed — how long, neither could say — until Lin Jingyu spoke at last, his voice unhurried: "I came to before you did. There were still a few people in the room then, and I asked them. This place is Tongfeng Peak of Qingyun Mountain."
Zhang Fan murmured, "Qingyun Mountain."
Lin Jingyu said, "From what I heard, it was a few passing disciples of the Qingyu Sect who saw the village—the village—" At this point, his voice could not help but break.
He reached up and rubbed his eyes hard, drew a slow breath, then continued: "Later, they found the two of us behind the village and brought us up the mountain."
The corner of Zhang Fan's mouth shifted, yet he did not raise his head. "What are we going to do from now on, Jingyu?"
Lin Jingyu shook his head, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I don't know."
Zhang Fan was about to try again when he suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice from the corridor behind him: "You're all awake?"
The two turned around simultaneously to find a young Taoist standing there, clad in a blue Taoist robe, exuding a rather heroic bearing. He strode over briskly. "Several Masters also wish to meet you and ask you a few questions. Come with me now."
Zhang Fan and Lin Jingyu exchanged a glance and rose to their feet. Lin Jingyu said, "Please lead the way, brother."
The young Daoist glanced at Lin Jingyu, gave a nod, and said, "Follow me."
Following the Daoist, the two walked out of the courtyard, and stretching before them was a longer, grander circular corridor. Along its edges, a red pillar rose at every two zhang, and between each pair of pillars stood an arched gateway.
They walked forward along the covered corridor, passing through archway after archway and column after column, only then discovering that behind each archway lay a courtyard nearly identical to the one before. It appeared that this was where the disciples of Qingyun Sect lived their daily lives.
Setting aside all else, from this scale alone, there must be no fewer than a hundred such courtyards — a testament to just how numerous the disciples of Qingyun truly are.
After walking for quite some time, the end of the corridor finally came into view — only to reveal a towering white wall, at the foot of which stood a great gate. Its two thick wooden door panels rose a full ten zhang in height, so immense that one had to crane one's neck back to take them in. How anyone had ever sourced timber of such staggering size was beyond imagining.
The young Daoist paid it no heed — likely having passed through this gate so many times that the sight had long since ceased to move him. His face bore none of the wonder that showed on the two children; expression blank, he walked straight out through the entrance. Zhang Fan and Lin Jingyu hurried after him.
The moment they stepped through the gate, both children held their breath at once, staring at everything before them in disbelief.
Here, this was almost exactly the immortal realm spoken of in legend.
A vast plaza stretched endlessly in every direction, its floor laid entirely in white marble that gleamed with a cold, brilliant light. To behold it at a single glance was to feel one's own smallness. Far in the distance, clusters of white clouds drifted like gossamer veils — and yet, impossibly, they floated below one's feet. At the center of the plaza, spaced dozens of zhang apart, stood colossal bronze cauldrons arranged in three rows of three, nine in all, each set in its precise and proper place. From within them, wisps of pale smoke rose at intervals, their fragrance clean and unhurried, refusing to fade.
"This way." As if understanding the thoughts of these two children, the young Daoist's face broke into a faint smile, letting them stare for quite a while before rousing the two of them and continuing onward.
"This here is the 'Sea of Clouds,' one of Qingyu's Six Scenic Views — and there are even better sights ahead!" the young Daoist said as he walked.
Lin Jingyu couldn't help asking, "What is it?"
The young Daoist raised a hand and pointed at the bridge."
The two of them gazed into the distance, and far ahead, at the far end of the plaza, something seemed to glitter behind a veil of misty, fog-like clouds. They quickened their pace and pressed forward.
Gradually, the sound of water drifted over, punctuated here and there by one or two strange rumbles like rolling thunder, their source unknown.
They drew closer and closer, the clouds like gentle celestial maidens drifting softly around them, gradually drawing aside their gossamer veils to reveal their true and unmistakable faces.
At the far end of the plaza, a stone bridge rose without pillar or pier, spanning the void from where it rested upon the square's edge and angling straight upward into the depths of the white clouds — like a soaring dragon, its bearing solitary and proud. A faint murmur of water drifted through the air. Sunlight fell upon the bridge and scattered into seven colors across its entire length, as though a rainbow had descended into the mortal world — resplendent, luminous, and breathtaking beyond compare.
Zhang Fan and Lin Jingyu stood there, dumbstruck.
The young Daoist smiled. "Allow me," he said, and stepped onto the stone bridge first.
As the two stepped onto the stone bridge, they noticed that water cascaded continuously down both sides, crystal clear, yet the middle section remained completely dry. Sunlight filtering through the clouds fell upon the bridge, refracted by the flowing water into a brilliant rainbow.
The Daoist looked at their entranced expressions and grew worried — beneath this bridge lay a bottomless abyss, and should they carelessly tumble down, there would be no place even to bury their bodies."
Zhang Fan and Lin Jingyu were both startled. They hastily steadied their nerves and walked on with care.
The rainbow bridge stretched impossibly high and long. As the three walked upon it, they felt the white clouds to either side gradually sinking beneath their feet — clearly, the higher they climbed, the higher it rose. And from somewhere ahead, that strange sound continued without cease.
After walking a little further, the white clouds grew thin, and before they knew it they had passed beyond the sea of clouds entirely. The view burst open all at once—a vast sky, clear as if freshly washed, blue so pure it seemed transparent. In every direction stretched open space, boundless and without limit; below lay the endless cloud-sea, rising and falling in gentle swells. A single glance outward, and the heart could not help but expand.
Directly ahead stood the main hall of Qingyu Monastery, crowning the summit of Tongfeng Peak — the Hall of Jade Clarity.
Lush mountains glowed with emerald green; grand palace halls rose in imposing splendor. The Jade Clarity Hall sat perched atop the very summit, wreathed in drifting clouds and mist. Now and then, a few auspicious cranes would soar past with long, clear cries, circling overhead as if reluctant to leave — a scene like some celestial immortal realm, stirring reverence in the hearts of all who beheld it.
At that moment, the rainbow bridge ceased its ascent, arching through the air before sweeping down to rest beside a crescent pool of jade-green water at the foot of the hall. At the same time, Taoist chanting drifted faintly out from within the Yuqing Hall, suffused with the lofty bearing of immortals. And that strange sound, too, grew louder still.
The three of them descended the Rainbow Bridge and arrived at the edge of the pool. A broad stone stairway rose from the poolside and led straight up to the gates of the Jade Clarity Hall. The water was a deep jade green, still and clear as a mirror, in which the reflections of figures and mountains could be seen with perfect clarity.
They ascended the stone steps and were about to approach the great gate above when a roar thundered from the depths of the pool — that same uncanny sound as before, like a clap of sky-splitting thunder. They turned to look, and at the center of the pool a vast whirlpool had suddenly formed. An instant later, towering waves surged and crashed, and a colossal silhouette burst free of the surface, sending sheets of water rushing toward their faces.
The young Daoist seemed to have anticipated the move. With a casual draw of his left hand, his body lifted off the ground and swept backward through the air more than two zhang, coming to rest in midair. The two children, however, had nowhere to flee—they were instantly drenched to the bone, looking like drowned rats.
Yet the two of them were utterly oblivious to their own plight, staring blankly at the colossal creature that had appeared before them — standing over five zhang tall, with the body of a dragon-lion, its entire form sheathed in scales and armor, its enormous eyes and gaping maw fixed ahead, two razor-sharp fangs glinting in the sunlight. Its visage was grotesque and fearsome, inspiring dread in all who laid eyes upon it.
The monster shook itself, sending another cascade of water splashing outward, then—as if it had spotted something—stretched its enormous bulk toward the steps.
Zhang Fan and Lin Jingyu saw that the monster's head alone was far larger than the two of them combined. In the sunlight, its razor-sharp fangs stood out in stark relief. Watching it draw closer and closer, genuine fear seized their hearts; they could not help pressing tightly against each other, their pulses hammering wildly.
At that moment, the young Daoist had drifted back without anyone noticing. He raised a single palm upright before his chest and said with great deference, "Spirit Venerable, they were specifically summoned by the honored Masters."
The beast shot him a glare, let out a loud snort, and—remarkably—rolled its great eyes as though working through some calculation. Then it lost all interest in the three of them, swayed off to one side, and flopped down on the dry ground beside the pool. It yawned, laid its head lazily down, and, basking in the sun, drifted off to sleep.
The young Daoist motioned for the two still-shaken individuals to keep walking. "This Venerable One is an ancient mythical beast tamed by our sect's Patriarch Qingye a thousand years ago — it is called the 'Water Qilin.' In those days, Patriarch Qingye brought glory to Qingyun and vanquished demons and evil spirits; it rendered great service in that endeavor. Today it serves as the guardian spirit beast of our Qingyun Sect, and is respectfully addressed as 'Spirit Venerable.'"
Done, he bowed once more in the direction of the Water Qilin. Zhang Fan had been watching in a trance when Lin Jingyu gave him a tug; catching the meaningful look in his eyes, he too bowed respectfully toward the Water Qilin. Yet the Water Qilin neither turned its head nor moved a muscle—only snored thunderously, as though it had seen nothing at all.
After the three of them had paid their respects, they continued onward. Ascending the tall stone steps, they glimpsed from a distance a golden plaque bearing three characters: "Jade Clarity Hall." Drawing near the imposing hall, they found its doors thrown wide open, the interior bathed in ample light, where the divine thrones of the Three Pure Ones—the Primordial Worthy, the Numinous Treasure Worthy, and the Moral Worthy—were enshrined in solemn magnificence.
Before the spirit shrine, within the great hall, stood dozens of people — some Taoist cultivators, some secular folk — all apparently disciples of the Qingyun Sect. Before the assembled crowd were arranged seven large sandalwood chairs, three to the left and three to the right, with one more at the very center front. Yet only six were seated among them; the last chair in the right row stood empty.