"Zhang Fan!"
A shout rang out—sweet in voice, yet deafening. Zhang Fan jolted awake from his dream, eyes flying open, only to find a gaping maw and two rows of sharp fangs looming right before his face. He let out a startled cry: "Aah!"
"Hehehe… hehehe…" A burst of laughter drifted over from behind.
Zhang Fan finally managed to collect himself, and only then did he make out what stood before him — a large yellow dog, nearly half a man's height, its coat sleek and brilliantly golden, sprawled lazily across his bed. Behind it, Tian Ling'er stood dressed in a form-fitting red outfit, bent double with laughter.
Zhang Fan stole a glance at the large dog. It was enormous, with sharp fangs and a long tongue lolling out—altogether a fierce and menacing sight. He had never seen a dog so big in his life, and felt a twinge of fear. Then he caught sight of Tian Ling'er's warm, inviting smile and murmured softly, "Senior Sister, what's the matter?"
"What is it?" Tian Ling'er said with a smile, then suddenly her expression turned serious. She frowned and called out loudly, "It's broad daylight and you're still asking me what's going on? Get out of bed—I'm taking you up the mountain to chop bamboo."
Zhang Fan was momentarily stunned, and asked in surprise, "You're going too?"
Tian Ling'er said: "Obviously—every disciple of our lineage has to go up the mountain and chop 'Black-Jointed Bamboo' for the first three years after joining. I started at ten, and this is my final year—you think I'd still be lazing in bed?"
Zhang Fan hastily answered, carefully skirted around the large dog, climbed down from the far corner of the bed, and scrambled to pull on his clothes.
Tian Ling'er called out, "Catch!" and tossed a firewood cleaver over.
Zhang Fan received it with both hands. It was an ordinary woodcutting knife, yet surprisingly heavy in his grip. Once everything was ready, he turned to Tian Ling'er and said, "Senior Sister, shall we call Senior Brother along as well?"
Tian Ling'er rolled her eyes at him. "Didn't you hear me? Is it only entry-level disciples who are supposed to do their chores? Right now it's just the two of us going to chop bamboo — come on."
Before Zhang Fan could even react, the big yellow dog lying on the bed suddenly sprang to its feet. It leaped down, wagged its tail, barked twice at Zhang Fan with a "woof woof," bared its teeth in a show of ferocity, then turned and ran out.
The sound struck Zhang Fan as familiar. He recalled that yesterday, when he had followed his senior brother back, he had heard several barks — this must be that big yellow dog. He couldn't help thinking to himself: *Qingyun Sect really is something else. Even a dog they keep casually is far bigger than any in our village.*
He followed Tian Ling'er out of the room to find the light still pale—it was early morning yet. Stepping through the corridor and gazing toward the back mountain, he could see wisps of hazy mist drifting languidly among the distant peaks.
And so the two of them—and the dog—made their way toward the back mountain of Dazhu Peak.
Yesterday, Zhang Fan had been carried by Song Daren to that hillside, and it had seemed a short, easy walk. But today, making the journey on his own, he had barely reached the halfway point when the slope began to grow steeper and steeper, the distance stretching far longer than he had ever imagined.
By contrast, Tian Ling'er at his side had not used that "Amber Crimson Silk" today, yet moved with effortless ease, her delicate red figure swaying along the mountain path with light, nimble steps. The big yellow dog needed even less help—brimming with energy, it shot ahead one moment and doubled back the next, occasionally darting into the forest along the roadside for no apparent reason. After a little while, the undergrowth would rustle, and it would come bounding out from somewhere else entirely, looking thoroughly lively and pleased with itself.
After another half a shichen of walking, Zhang Fan was panting heavily, his legs burning with soreness, utterly exhausted.
Tian Ling'er was walking ahead. Glancing back at his sorry state, she let out a snort. "Useless. Stop and rest for a bit."
Zhang Fan nodded hastily and plopped himself down, gasping for breath. The big yellow dog, however, was nowhere to be seen—no telling where it had slipped off to again.
Zhang Fan panted for quite a while before his breathing gradually steadied. He sat on the mountain path and looked down, where Great Bamboo Peak rose tall and unyielding, standing a full head above all the surrounding mountains — an air of proud aloofness about it.
"Senior Sister, there's something I'd like to ask you—I'm not sure if…"
Tian Ling'er heard his rather timid words. Her eyes swept over to him, and a surge of quiet satisfaction rose in her heart. She unconsciously ran a hand through her hair, schooled her face into an air of gravity, and said in a measured tone: "Go ahead and ask."
"Why do we take bamboo-cutting as our lesson? I thought lessons were all about Cultivation in the ways of the Dao."
Tian Ling'er pursed her lips. "What do you know? For those who walk the path of cultivation, the body is paramount. Goodness—if the body is not sound, even the most supreme and wondrous techniques will be difficult to practice. Our Qingyun Sect has its roots in Taoism and places great importance on nurturing life and tempering the body. And the deeper one delves into Daoist cultivation, the more critical the body becomes. Take, for instance, one of the supreme wonders of our Qingyun Sect, the 'Divine Sword Thunder-Command True Formula'..."
Zhang Fan's body gave a sudden shudder, his expression changing drastically.
Tian Ling'er asked curiously, "What's the matter with you?"
Zhang Fan came back to his senses, his expression shifting between dark and light, and mumbled, "What — that name sounds awfully long and impressive."
Tian Ling'er shot him a glare, then cried, "Incredible! This is one of Qingyun Sect's most prized ultimate techniques—hardly anyone can master it. As my father says, to unleash this true art, you must use yourself as the conduit, aided by a divine weapon's keen edge, to draw down the Nine Divine Thunders. The blazing divine might is truly unstoppable, its power utterly without peer."
Zhang Fan let out a sigh."
Tian Ling'er continued, "Think about it—even with a true formula to protect yourself, just consider the might of Divine Thunder. The moment an ordinary person comes into contact with it, they are reduced to ash on the spot. The caster may well be of profound cultivation, but if their constitution is poor, they might very well be struck dead by the Divine Thunder themselves before sweeping all before them—so where does this talk of 'unstoppable force' come from?" She shot Zhang Fan a glance, her eyes carrying the unspoken message: *My father had you study this entirely for your own good—and look at you, still wearing that reluctant expression.*
Zhang Fan was startled and hurriedly jumped to his feet, saying anxiously: "That's not the case at all! I would never — never dare show any disrespect toward Master, nor is there any unwillingness on my part. I've rested enough already. I'll go, I'll go right now!"
Done, he grabbed the firewood chopper and stomped up the mountain—thud, thud, thud—moving at a surprising clip. Tian Ling'er watched his retreating figure, gave a soft smile, and followed.
By the time Zhang Fan had struggled up to the foot of the slope, he was already gasping for breath. There before the bamboo grove, the big yellow dog had somehow already settled down at the forest's edge; upon seeing the two of them approach, it barked a few times in their direction, then, without rising to its feet, turned its head away once more.
Zhang Fan was momentarily stunned. *So fast!*
"Are you Dahuang?" Tian Linger came walking up from behind, not the least bit flushed or out of breath.
Zhang Fan pointed at the big dog. "That one's called Big Yellow?"
Tian Ling'er said, "Don't look at it — it's terribly fierce."
Zhang Fan murmured, "Of course. Just look at the size of it — you can tell it's been raised for at least twenty years."
Tian Ling'er scoffed, "As if!"
Zhang Fan said in amazement, "It's not even twenty years old yet—Dahuang really knows how to grow."
Just then, Da Huang up ahead let out a fierce bark at Zhang Fan.
Tian Ling'er said, "Where would I get so few years to count—let me think. It seems like it was already there when Fourth Senior Brother came, so that's seventy years. No, wait, when Third Senior Brother arrived before him, it was already there too, so that would be ninety-seven years—" She suddenly let out a cry, which gave Zhang Fan a fright. He hurriedly said, "What's wrong?"
Tian Ling'er said with a gleeful smile, "Oh, I remember now—there was this one time Mother and Father had a quarrel, and Mother said something really cruel: that she was going to slaughter the yellow dog Father had raised from a pup and boil it into dog stew. It made Father half-dead with rage, and Big Yellow was so frightened it didn't dare come home for the longest time!"
Zhang Fan found it most peculiar — Huang didn't dare go home?
Tian Ling'er said: "Exactly — Da Huang has lived for so, so many years that he's grown wise to human ways. He knew how fearsome my mother is, and fearing he might truly fall into her clutches, he made himself scarce while he had the chance. How about that — impressive, isn't he?"
"Impressive!" Zhang Fan said with genuine admiration, though he wasn't quite sure whether it was directed at Dahuang or at his master's wife's methods. He lingered his gaze on the big yellow dog a moment longer—but Dahuang paid him no mind whatsoever, snorted, gave its tail a leisurely wag, turned its head away, and flopped down on the ground without a care in the world.
By now the two had reached the bamboo grove. Zhang Fan said to Tian Ling'er, "Senior Sister, when I first arrived at Tong Peak, I spotted a massive creature — many times larger than Da Huang. Senior Brother called it a 'Water Qilin.' Is Da Huang the same kind of spirit beast as that?"
Tian Ling'er walked into the bamboo grove and shook her head. "No—Ling Zun is an ancient mystical beast, a primordial spirit lineage. It far surpasses Da Huang. There's simply no comparison."
As they spoke, she led Zhang Fan weaving through the forest. After walking for a while, they arrived at a spot dense with slender bamboo—the black-jointed stalks here were generally no thicker than a wrist, fine and delicate.
"This is the place. For the next three months, you just need to chop one each time." Tian Ling'er said with complete seriousness.
"Such a thin one—and you only cut one?" Zhang Fan exclaimed.
Tian Ling'er let out a snort. "Go ahead and try cutting it."
Zhang Fan nodded, picked up the woodcutting knife, and walked over to a slender bamboo stalk. He looked it up and down, then swung the blade. A crisp crack rang out—but the knife met the bamboo as though striking solid rock, sending a numbing shock through Zhang Fan's palm. The stalk tilted forward from the blow, then sprang back a moment later. Zhang Fan had no time to dodge; a bamboo branch whipped him hard across the head, stinging fiercely and leaving a bright red welt.
"Hehe…" Tian Ling'er laughed so hard she doubled over, and after quite a while managed to say through her mirth: "You just keep chopping here — I'm off to do my own practice." Still giggling, she turned and walked away.
Zhang Fan touched the aching spot on his face where he had been struck, only to find that the place where the bamboo had been cut bore nothing more than a faint white mark. He could not help but draw a sharp breath. That morning, Zhang Fan had been alone here pitting himself against that black-jointed bamboo — hacking, sawing, and trying every method he could think of. Two hours passed. The sun climbed to the middle of the sky. He was drenched in sweat from head to toe, his hands and feet aching and drained of strength, and yet all he had managed to carve into the bamboo was a notch barely two fen deep.
Just then, a snatch of song drifted over. Tian Ling'er came bounding back, humming some nameless little tune. She took one look at Zhang Fan's bedraggled state, then glanced at the black-jointed bamboo, shook her head, raised her woodcutting blade, and made as if to bring it down.
Zhang Fan hastily said, "Senior Sister, what are you doing?"
Tian Ling'er said impatiently, "I'll chop it for you."
Zhang Fan shook his head firmly, breathing hard. "No need, many thanks, Senior Sister. But this is my assignment — I'll see it through myself."
Tian Ling'er let out a huff and pointed at the sun. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
Zhang Fan was stubborn by nature. Gritting his teeth, he resolved to keep at it until nightfall no matter what…"
"Idiot!" Tian Ling'er suddenly planted her hands on her hips and let fly a sharp curse. Zhang Fan was caught completely off guard—he stood there speechless, staring blankly at this senior sister of his.
Tian Ling'er stood tall and imperious, every inch her mother's daughter, and snapped furiously: "Don't you look at the time? Don't you ever think of anyone else? You hack away until nightfall — are you expecting me to keep you company until nightfall too? If you truly want to prove yourself, then from now on you should work your hardest and find every way to finish your work within four hours — not go on selfishly about this nonsense of hacking away until dark!"
The moment she finished speaking, her hand rose and the blade fell. The knife sang through the air — *thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack* — four crisp strikes, and the bamboo toppled one after another. Zhang Fan stood there staring, his eyes gone completely blank.
Tian Ling'er gave him a glance and said coolly, "Go back." With that, she turned and walked out of the forest. Zhang Fan's heart burned with shame and remorse, and he made a silent vow that from this day forward he would put in twelve times the effort and master his lessons properly.
※※※
Dragging their exhausted bodies back to the dwelling on Big Bamboo Peak, they found it was already past noon. Tian Linger walked without a word toward the rear of the Hall of Quietude. Zhang Fan stood there dazed for a moment, then forced himself to move, making his labored way toward his own room. At the entrance of the corridor, however, he found Senior Brother Song Daren standing there.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Song Daren's lips. "So, Junior Brother — tired?"
Zhang Fan forced a smile and shook his head.
Song Daren saw how young he was, yet what a stubborn temper the boy had, and couldn't help laughing. He walked with him toward the room first. "There's usually hot water in the room. When you come back from now on, you can fetch some yourself and wash up. It'll be mealtime soon — rest a bit first, and I'll come get you. After we eat, we still have our lessons to do."
Zhang Fan was startled. "There's still homework this afternoon?"
Song Daren saw his strong reaction and froze for a moment, then quickly came to his senses and laughed: "My mistake — the afternoons are when disciples of our lineage practice their Dao arts. Starting from today, I'll teach you some introductory Dao arts."
Only then did Zhang Fan breathe a sigh of relief, his heart a mixture of shock and delight. He leaned in and whispered, "Senior Brother, those Dao techniques are incredible—are they very hard to learn?"
Song Daren smiled and said: "When Cultivation reaches its depths, it naturally becomes extraordinarily powerful. As for whether it is difficult to learn — that depends on each person's aptitude and comprehension. But even if one's aptitude is somewhat lacking, it matters not. You also heard what Master said last night: the sea of the Dao is boundless, and diligence is the vessel. So long as you persevere and cultivate diligently, no matter how arduous the path, you will succeed in the end."
Zhang Fan nodded vigorously.
That day at lunchtime, Tian Buyi asked a few questions about Zhang Fan's progress in his lessons. Tian Ling'er seized the moment to embellish and exaggerate, launching into a thorough dressing-down of Zhang Fan that left his face flushed crimson, too ashamed to raise his head.
Tian Buyi listened to his daughter's words, shaking his head again and again. Finally he waved his hand and said only two words: "Let's eat."
Tian Buyi was simply too lazy to bother scolding Zhang Fan—yet in Zhang Fan's eyes, it seemed his master cared for him deeply. Time and again he had fallen short, yet his master never reproached him, displaying a magnanimity beyond compare. Truly, this was a rare and benevolent teacher one could scarce hope to find in all the world. A wave of shame washed over him, though he dared not speak it aloud. He could only make a silent vow in his heart: that in the days to come, he would cultivate with unwavering diligence, and so repay the kindness his master had shown him.
After the meal, Tian Buyi, as was his habit, shuffled along with his characteristic duck-footed gait, swaggering a step or two before heading back to his Hall of Tranquility. The other disciples made their way toward Taiji Cave, and only Song Daren accompanied Zhang Fan to his room. "Junior Brother, our sect's Daoist arts place tremendous importance on foundations. Since you have just entered the gate, I will first pass on the basic Daoist techniques to you. Once you have committed them to memory, practice on your own. Should anything be unclear, come find me at once. Understood?"
Zhang Fan nodded again and again, a wave of excitement surging through his heart.
Song Daren's expression grew grave, and he spoke with solemn gravity: "There is one more matter I must impress upon you: our Sect's wondrous arts are profound and extraordinary, and many demons and wicked beings have long sought to steal them. You must swear a binding oath that, once you have mastered them, you will never pass them on to any outsider who is not a disciple of our Sect."
Zhang Fan's heart stirred, and for a brief moment his mind went hazy—yet he swiftly collected himself, a look of unwavering resolve settling across his face. "Heaven above bears witness: should I, disciple Zhang Fan, ever betray the secret Dao arts of Qingyun Sect, may I be struck down by the Five Thunders and die without a place of burial."
Song Daren smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table. He first taught him how to meditate and enter a state of contemplation, then gave a brief overview of the human body's Meridians and the circulation of vital energy, before finally imparting to him the first-level cultivation method of the "Taiji Xuanqing Dao."
The "Taiji Xuanqing Tao" was the very foundation of all the wondrous arts and techniques of Qingyun Sect. Two thousand years ago, Qingyu Zi had comprehended it from a nameless ancient scroll; refined across successive generations by Qingyun Sect's grandmasters, it had by now become a supreme Tao of unparalleled mystery—one that could seize the very workings of Heaven and Earth.
The Taiji Profound Clarity Dao comprises three realms: Jade Clarity, Supreme Clarity, and Grand Clarity. Among the disciples of Qingyun Sect, many were men and women of sharp wit and outstanding talent, yet even they could not break through the Jade Clarity realm in their entire lives. Even so, to reach the highest stratum of Jade Clarity was already a rarity seldom seen in the world.
Within the QingYun Sect, nearly a thousand disciples called it home, yet those who had broken through the Yuqing Realm to pursue the Shangqing Realm numbered barely a dozen, led by none other than the Sect Leader, True Person Daoxuan. And yet from these few alone, the QingYun Sect stood as one of the most powerful and deep-rooted sects in the present-day cultivation world. As for the supreme Taiqing Realm spoken of in legend — a realm said to transcend all others — it was told that only Founding Patriarch Qingye, a once-in-an-age genius of ages past, had ever truly attained it.