Before Pei Qian left Mural City to question the River God Xue, within the scroll of Mural City, at the immortal mansion ruins, Ancestor Yan Su, the Master of Laws, allowed his only direct disciple, Pang Lanxi, to continue practicing swordsmanship, allowing for a moment’s rest if desired. Yan Su opened the landscape barrier and returned to the Wooden Robe Mountain Ancestral Hall, then rode the wind to the Half-Mountain Sword Pavilion to pay respects to Ancestor Nalan from the Upper Sect of the Hemp Robe Sect in the Central Earth Continent. Despite Ancestor Nalan’s approachable demeanor, as the Upper Sect’s Master of Laws, he was extremely strict, having personally executed two cultivators above the Fifth Realm.

An Upper Sect Master of Laws, immensely old and of high seniority, being the junior brother of the Upper Sect’s Sect Master, Ancestor Nalan neither sent a flying sword message beforehand nor went directly to the Ancestral Hall on the summit, causing Yan Su to feel apprehensive.

The verdant Wooden Robe Mountain was perpetually surrounded by white clouds at its waist, like a celestial in green robes with a white jade belt.

When Yan Su arrived outside the Sword Pavilion, Ancestor Nalan was drinking with Wei Yusong. The old man was tipsy, laughing heartily, and randomly reaching out to crush the white clouds outside the pavilion.

Yan Su breathed a sigh of relief. Ancestor Nalan was easier to talk to after drinking, a credit to Wei Yusong.

The young couple with swords on their backs greeted Yan Su proactively, causing Yan Su’s eyelids to twitch and his heart to tighten.

“We have long admired your name,” the man said. His name was Sui Yuan (Fulfilling Wishes), and the woman’s name was Cheng Xin (Achieving Desires). A pair of Daoist companions, both in the Nascent Soul Realm, though not yet in the Upper Five Realms, were destined to be future masters of the Impermanence Division of the Upper Sect’s Ancestral Hall.

Those who walk the path of impermanence, aside from some unorthodox methods, all originated from the Upper Sect of the Hemp Robe Sect.

Ancestor Nalan did not bring a direct disciple on a cross-continental journey, but instead brought these two troublesome figures to the Lower Sect, which in itself was a kind of reminder.

After Yan Su sat down, Wei Yusong bluntly stated, “Ancestor Nalan has come to question us, feeling that we are too involved with the Song Clan of the Great Li.”

The woman named Cheng Xin took out a book from her sleeve and handed it to Yan Su, smiling, “Master Yan, please read this book first.”

Yan Su was puzzled. Upon receiving the book, he knew its quality. It was not an immortal scroll at all. Wei Yusong looked worried as Yan Su began to browse through the book.

Ancestor Nalan continued to pull Wei Yusong, this junior of the Lower Sect, into drinking. The old cultivator had almost bought a celadon brush washer depicting immortals riding rafts at Mural City, but the inscription on the bottom did not conform to the proper regulations. It was merely an obscure poem that was not recorded, “Riding rafts to guide immortal guests, once reaching the stars.”

The old cultivator was delighted upon seeing it, because he recognized it and it caught his eye. Not because the celadon brush washer was a great immortal artifact or a remarkable treasure, worth only two or three Minor Heat coins, but the old cultivator was willing to spend a Grain Rain coin to buy it. Because this poem was not widely circulated in the Central Earth Continent, but the old cultivator happened to know it. Not only did he know it, but he had also personally seen the poet and heard him recite the poem.

The mountain peak immortals who were friends with Ancestor Nalan in the Central Earth Continent all knew that the old man loved poetry, in addition to prayers and immortal travel poems, he also liked a kind of planchette writing ghost poetry, a kind of elegant conversation similar to Hanlin ghosts. The poems were mostly in the Pavilion style, one type being from old ghosts of the previous dynasty, who liked to involve ancient people and masters of past poetry in their poems. The old man recorded everything he saw and heard.

But Ancestor Nalan thought the most interesting thing about this poem was not the content, but the title, which was extremely long, even longer than the content, “At the End of the Yuanbao Era, Drunk in Broad Daylight, Sleeping by the Chunming Gate, Dreaming of Traveling with the Azure Boy Heavenly Lord in the Milky Way by Raft, Awakening from the Dream, Inspired to Write This Poem.”

Back then, the old man was just a boy. Once, he followed his master down the mountain for a long journey, and then in a precarious secular dynasty, he met a down-and-out scholar named “Bai Ye.” The master invited him to drink, and the scholar used this poem as payment for the wine. At that time, after the boy heard the extremely long name, he thought it would be a long poem of hundreds of words, but he did not expect that including “Riding rafts to guide immortal guests, once reaching the stars,” it would only be twenty-eight words in total. Then the boy couldn’t help but ask, “Is that all?” But the scholar had already laughed and left.

Ancestor Nalan put down the wine pot and asked, “Have you finished reading?”

Yan Su’s face was livid, and he said in a deep voice, “Ancestor Nalan, don’t tell me you also believe the contents of this book?”

Ancestor Nalan sneered.

Wei Yusong said, “Ancestor Nalan wants to confirm one thing, how did this kind of book gradually spread in the Central Earth Continent, so much so that it is readily available on cross-continental ferries? What is written in the book may be important, or it may not be important, but who exactly wrote this book, and why is our Hemp Robe Sect involved with Chen Pingan as written in the book, is the only thing Ancestor Nalan wants to know.”

Ancestor Nalan was randomly crushing the mountain clouds, while Yan Su crushed the book in his hand to pieces and threw it out of the Sword Pavilion. Yan Su was good at handling the Law, but not good at arguing. So he had to feel extremely frustrated and asked Wei Yusong for a pot of wine.

Ancestor Nalan slowly said, “Zhu Quan is too simple-minded, he likes to think about things in a complex way and then simplify them. Wei Yusong is too focused on making money, wanting to change the Hemp Robe Sect’s strained situation, he is stuck in the money pit. You, Yan Su, the two Hemp Robe Sect Ancestors, only know how to fight and scold people without managing things. If I don’t come here myself to take a look, I won’t feel at ease.”

Yan Su took a big gulp of wine and said in a muffled voice, “Ancestor Nalan wouldn’t just come to the Bone Beach for a look, right? Anyway, if the Upper Sect is annoyed by this and wants to find a scapegoat, it’s very simple. I, Yan Su, will take the blame alone, it has nothing to do with Zhu Quan and Wei Yusong.”

Ancestor Nalan said, “Before I came, the Upper Sect had a conclusion. No matter what, we must cut off this deal with Piled Cloud Mountain and the Song Clan of the Great Li. As for why it’s me, of course, the Upper Sect’s Ancestral Hall is quite angry. You should know very well that the Hemp Robe Sect, or the Upper Sect in the Central Earth Continent, without discussing the truth, only say that for people like this in the book, full of tricks, relying solely on good luck, pretending to cultivate the heart, but only knowing how to cultivate strength, only taking and never giving on the path of cultivation, they are always most hated. Rather believe it exists than believe it doesn’t. Moreover, this book is spreading extremely fast. The Upper Sect is not willing to let the entire Hemp Robe Sect fall into a cesspool for some immortal money.”

Ancestor Nalan said to Yan Su, “Even if Zhu Quan doesn’t manage things, he is still the Sect Master. To put it bluntly, you, Yan Su, can also have that old village elder’s playful demeanor, but mostly it’s still like Ancestor Nalan, untouched by the mortal world, with an immortal spirit.”
But the truth was, the old cultivator was of humble origin, not a scion of a powerful clan, nor some celestial being born on a mountain. He had merely entered the mountains to cultivate from a young age.

One night, the old cultivator closed a book of poetry.

He remembered the first time he ventured out to travel the world. His master saw him off at the mountain gate, saying, “Enter the world.”

The young man was puzzled, asking why not descend the mountain.

But the master offered no explanation.

It was much later, after many years, that he, no longer a youth, understood the master’s profound meaning. The path of cultivation was like climbing a mountain, difficult and treacherous. The human world, with its schemes and intrigues, was even more perilous. To enter this world was to embark on an even more arduous journey.

The old man sighed, opening the only travelogue he owned besides the poetry collection. He continued to read the opening thousands of words. As for the rest of the content – miraculous encounters, blessings of fortune, the young scholar who learned both martial arts and literature, composing poems with goddesses and alluring ghosts, whispering sweet nothings, making vows of eternal love – the chivalrous youth who resolved conflicts with a few punches, turning a blind eye to the messes he left behind, only to seek fame and fortune in another place, always riding off into the sunset, drinking and singing merrily – what a miasma of vapid nonsense! It was utterly unbearable.

The old man continued to read, asking the young man and woman beside him, “Suiyuan, Chenxin, how much of the book do you think is true?”

The woman shook her head. “If this book is to be believed, even if only a sliver is true, I would avoid this person at all costs in the future. Gu Chan, on the other hand, requires no such vigilance.”

The man said, “After venturing out into the world, he criticizes others as if he were a stern lecturer, never examining his own heart. What a waste of the pure and honest words at the beginning of the travelogue.”

At this point, the man glanced at his Daoist companion, cautiously adding, “If you only read the beginning, the young man’s circumstances were quite dire. I truly hope he achieves great success and finds happiness after hardship.”

The woman smiled. “Beautiful companions in the study, flirtatious courtesans in the Jianghu. Which true-blooded man doesn’t envy that?”

The man could only offer a wry smile. Some things were better left unsaid.

That day, the old cultivator gazed at the landscape painting on his white cloud desk, seemingly surprised. With a wave of his hand, he pushed the painting off the desk, allowing the immortal couple to observe the myriad lives of the common folk. The two young Nascent Soul cultivators from the Impermanence Department were the pride of the Central Earth Upper Sect of the Hemp Robe Sect. Born and bred as celestial beings, their parents were both cultivators. Suiyuan and Chenxin’s union as Daoist companions was a joyous occasion. The old cultivator held high hopes for these two younger members of the Impermanence Department. Their only flaw was their innate lack of understanding of the lives of the common people at the bottom of society. Their ideas were too simplistic.

In the painting, the young girl and the young scholar were burning incense at the River God Shrine.

The old cultivator stroked his beard and smiled. “They can’t even afford good incense offerings. That doesn’t quite resemble the demeanor of her master as described in the book. But then again, the little girl is quite experienced in the Jianghu, worldly and extremely clever. Suiyuan, Chenxin, if you were in the same realm as this little girl, you’d probably be sold off by her and happily count the money for her.”

After Pei Qian finished burning incense and browsing the River God Shrine, came the shocking confrontation with Xue Yuansheng, the boatman of the Shaking River, but in the end, there was no major disturbance.

The old boatman Xue Yuansheng personally ferried the two across the river, which could be considered a case of turning animosity into friendship.

As for the young thief who stole at the River God Shrine, the burly man who had his wrist broken had his men give him a thorough beating. The young thief clutched his head, rolling on the ground, begging and weeping bitterly. In the end, covered in blood and dirt, he was a disgusting sight. After the men left, they told the young thief to be quick and steal fifty taels of silver within a month as money for medicine. Otherwise, they would settle both the old and new scores together.

The young man staggered, alone, through a patch of reeds to the Shaking Riverbank. He took off his outer garment to wash it, wincing in pain. After drying his clothes, he made his way towards the Mural City, a journey of about six hundred *li*. Although his clothes had already dried, he still had some bruises on his body, and his ribs ached faintly. However, his face was relatively unscathed because he had protected it while rolling on the ground. Only his hands were untouched, because the burly man had reminded his men to spare them. After all, the young “lockpick”, with his extraordinary talent, was a cash cow for their gang, relying on his hands to steal without being noticed.

The young man returned to a small alley outside the Mural City. As usual, the courtyard gate was adorned with door gods, couplets, and the character “Spring” at the top.

Because they had only recently been pasted, they were not yet faded or wrinkled.

The young man looked around and, seeing no one nearby, glanced at the gap in the yellow mud wall next to one of the door gods. Seeing that the two copper coins were still there, he breathed a sigh of relief and then smiled.

The copper coins were worthless, of course, but they were of great significance to this family.

This hidden spot was jokingly called “The Innermost Place of the Door God” by him and his younger sister.

Once, when his family was on the verge of collapse, he found two coins while playing with his younger sister.

Immortal money, two “snowflake” coins.

Over the years, the two “snowflake” coins had never been spent. Firstly, they dared not, fearing that they would attract trouble. Secondly, his mother refused to spend them at any cost, saying that one “snowflake” coin should be saved for his wedding fund, and the other was his younger sister’s future dowry. How wonderful!
He learned later that, if their mother hadn’t suddenly obtained those two divine coins back then, which instantly bolstered her spirit, she would have given up on enduring the hardships and carrying the two children through the wretched, impoverished days. She almost agreed to become a boat girl for those ruthless creditors, the kind of ferrywoman who allows travelers to touch her for a few copper coins while she poles the boat. At night, instead of crossing the river, she’d dock on the swaying riverbank, light a lantern, and any roughneck who saw the light could spend the night. And when she got older, she’d end up in a brothel as a hidden prostitute. If their mother had truly done that, they would have had more money, and he and his sister would have lived better lives. Their mother often spoke of these things without reservation, but the young boy, of course, didn’t want that. His sister would turn pale every time she heard it, sneaking to the doorway to murmur her thanks to the door gods. Thus, it became a family custom that the old door gods were never discarded when new ones were put up each year. Their mother would have him and his sister carefully take down one door god each and carefully store them away, treasuring them. And in the place where those two snow coins had mysteriously appeared, their mother replaced them with two copper coins.

The only thing the boy was dissatisfied with about himself was his failure to become a scholar. He didn’t really have that desire, but the way his mother looked disappointed without saying anything made his heart ache.

Once, early on, he secretly took a snow coin, intending to exchange it for silver, first to let his sister, who craved a pastry, eat her fill, and then to give his mother and sister a comfortable life. But his mother, as if possessed, dragged him home, and it was the first time she had ever hit him, beaten him half to death. His younger sister, even younger than him, cried fiercely beside them, as if she felt the pain even more than he did.

From that day on, as the only male in the family, he vowed to earn money! It wasn’t until he became a youth that he realized that if it hadn’t been for his mother’s intervention, the family of three would not only not have lived a good life, but would have suffered disaster. Not even two snow coins, but even two “Lesser Heat” coins, would have been extorted by those ruthless vagrants who had killed and seen blood, until they were completely depleted. He and his mother alone could not have protected those two divine coins that fell from the sky.

When the youth was finally able to secretly exchange snow coins for silver through his own abilities and connections, he had changed his mind. He would leave both snow coins for his sister. He would never let those beasts defile her. She must marry into a good family in the future, and she and their mother must leave Corpse Bone Beach. It was enough for him to stay here. With his own abilities, he was certain he could survive.

Today, the youth pushed open the door and entered the room he shared with his mother and sister. His sister was cutting paper snowflakes. His sister was skilled, and she could learn many intricate paper snowflake designs with just a glance. Although she couldn’t earn a lot of money doing this, enough to live on, she was at least able to earn some money.

The girl rose in surprise and said, “Brother, what brings you here? I’ll call mother home and have her make you a good meal.”

The youth picked up a small stool and sat down beside the girl, shaking his head with a smile, and said softly, “No need. Don’t you know how well I’m doing? With no money and no oil, our mother’s cooking is just awful. With money it’s all oil, and you can’t stand to eat it. But I came in a hurry this time and didn’t bring you a gift.”

The girl smiled, her clean and beautiful eyes squinting into two crescent moons. “No need, no need.”

The youth grinned, reached up and touched his head, and offered his fist, slowly opening it to reveal a small piece of silver. “Take it.”

The girl hesitated, but still took the silver. It was heavy, worth seven or eight qian.

The youth sat on the stool, leaning forward, resting his chin in his hands, and looked towards the two door gods that faced the inside of the house from the doorway.

In truth, this precocious youth no longer believed in door gods or immortals. He had some of his own guesses, most likely the young wanderer wearing a bamboo hat from back then.

But his mother and sister always firmly believed that those two snow coins were a manifestation of the door gods.

But whether they were or not, what did it matter?

Meanwhile, the grandfather and grandson, who had almost had their money stolen by the youth, left the ancestral temple and boarded the simple carriage they had hired in their hometown, returning north along the swaying river.

The child said he wanted to read, but the old man smiled and said that the road was bumpy and reading like that would hurt his eyes too much. He could read when they got home.

The child chuckled and said that once they got home, he wouldn’t say that. The old man patted the child’s head. The child suddenly said, “Earlier, in the River God’s big house, there was an older sister walking next to us. The way she smiled with her lips pursed was really beautiful.”

The old man thought for a moment and remembered. “Are you talking about the two people carrying bamboo chests?”

The child nodded vigorously. “We walked faster later, and that older sister walked slower. Every time I turned my head to look at her, she would smile.”

The old man smiled and said, “That’s the scholar traveling with his books.”

The child asked, “Grandpa, is that bamboo stick a walking stick? I didn’t see anything wrong with the legs of that older sister or brother.”

The old man couldn’t help but chuckle and patiently explained, “That’s not just any walking stick. It has a name. It’s called a ‘mountain traversing staff’. When scholars travel far, they often need to cross mountains and rivers. Some people aren’t particularly wealthy, but they want to learn more, and they don’t have servants or book boys to follow them. They have to carry their own luggage over mountains and water, so they need a mountain traversing staff.”

The child laughed and said, “Ha, our family doesn’t have much money either. Looks like I’ll need a mountain traversing staff in the future.”

The old man ruffled his grandson’s hair and said, “Reading ten thousand books costs a lot of money. Traveling ten thousand miles only requires enduring hardship. When I was young, I traveled far with a good friend. We went to the libraries of those prominent clans and scholarly families. Every day, we borrowed books, copied them, returned them, and borrowed them again. Some scholarly families didn’t care much and were very enthusiastic, welcoming us poor scholars to copy their books, only reminding us not to damage the books. They would even treat us to good food every day. But occasionally, some servants would grumble a little, for example, when we copied books late into the night, they would jokingly say that lamp oil was getting more expensive. But these things were nothing.”

The child yawned.
The old man held the child in his arms. The child, having spent all its initial excitement and walked for so long, was starting to drift off to sleep. The old man murmured softly, “In my twenties, words burst forth from the tip of my pen in a hurried, clamorous rush, unstoppable. After thirty, my talent gradually waned, only able to slowly simmer things. But now, in my twilight years, I never imagined I’d be writing about things I never thought I would. It’s as if I’m simply inviting my old friends onto the page, offering a greeting, and sharing a few stories.”

Suddenly, the coachman said, “Again I carry books and sword, both lost in the mist.”

The old man in the carriage was astonished. The coachman shouldn’t have been capable of such refined words. Gently placing the child down, he lifted the curtain.

The young coachman turned his head and asked, “Did the esteemed elder call for something?”

The old man smiled and inquired, “Why did you say, ‘Again I carry books and sword, both lost in the mist’?”

The coachman looked blank. “Esteemed elder, what are you saying?”

The old man was taken aback, then chuckled, dismissing it as nothing, and retreated back into the carriage, assuming it was his imagination.

Yet, the rough and unlettered coachman, out of nowhere, had the sudden impulse: Should I seek out Chen Lingjun?

The next moment, the coachman completely forgot about it.

On Mount Muyi, as Pei Qian and Li Huai boarded the boat, Ancestor Nalan put away the landscape painting and fell into contemplation.

The man, Suiyuan, said, “A continuous lineage. Like master, like disciple. Like disciple, like master.”

The woman, Chenxin, nodded in agreement.

After a moment, the old cultivator decided to take another look. So, he used his divine power again, and then exclaimed in surprise, “Eh? Why is there a Golden Core realm little fox demon beside those two children?”

Then, inexplicably, the painting started to blur on its own.

The immortal couple exchanged glances, bewildered.

Old Ancestor Nalan smiled and retracted his divine power.

Over at the teastall by the swaying riverbank…

Customers were few, and it was almost closing time.

The owner took out two feathers, one from the Literary Sparrow and the other from the Martial Sparrow.

He said to the young waiter who was dozing on the table, “We have work to do.”

A young woman suddenly appeared and sat down, “I advise you not to.”

In the night, Li Huai walked beside Pei Qian and whispered, “Pei Qian, can you teach me boxing?”

Pei Qian hesitated, her expression odd. One of the purposes of her travels was to visit Lion Peak, specifically to be beaten up.

Pei Qian pondered for a long time, then shook her head. “Learning boxing is too difficult.”

She paused, then added, “Besides, I don’t know how to teach boxing.”

Li Huai was actually happy and smiled, “I’m slow at learning everything. It’s better if you don’t know how to teach. If I don’t learn boxing well, I won’t be sad, and you don’t have to worry about misleading me. If it were Chen Ping’an, I wouldn’t learn from him. With his personality, once he starts teaching, I wouldn’t even be able to slack off… Pei Qian, I’m just telling the truth, don’t be angry.”

Pei Qian thought for a moment and said, “Didn’t you see my Master’s two boxing stances even earlier than I did? They’re not hard to learn, you should know them.”

Li Huai awkwardly said, “I just haphazardly learned the ‘Thousand Autumns’ Sleeping Posture. Actually, I didn’t remember anything Chen Ping’an said, I just pretended I learned it. I’m even more afraid to learn the Six-Step Walking Posture and the Sword Forge Standing Posture, afraid that Li Baoping and the others will laugh at me.”

Pei Qian shook her head. “I won’t teach boxing. I don’t know any boxing techniques myself.”

Li Huai said, “You do! Didn’t you just exchange boxing techniques with the River God Xue?”

Pei Qian just wouldn’t agree.

My boxing techniques, where do they land?

Pei Qian looked up at the sky.

And upon the earth, the sounds of night insects chirped all around.

Not far from the White Cloud Temple in the Qingluan Kingdom, an old monk who had traveled here rented a courtyard. He would brew soup every day, and although it was a vegetarian pot, it tasted like chicken soup.

So, he gained the nickname “Chicken Soup Monk.”

He didn’t interpret fortunes sticks, only read palms. Occasionally he told fortunes, but mostly he provided counsel. Each time it cost one or two taels of silver, and the money had to be given upon entering. If one was not satisfied with the advice, the money would not be returned.

One day, a scholar came to his door, asking if he could pass the imperial examinations and obtain official rank.

The old monk looked at the scholar’s palm and shook his head.

The scholar was furious and began to denounce the imperial examination system, listing a bunch of reasons, including asking if any of the top scholars in the world could write poems that would be famous for all time.

The old monk held out his hand, and the scholar angrily threw a silver coin at him.

The old monk took the money, put it in his pocket, and then smiled, “Whether the imperial examination system is misleading or not, I won’t say. But it’s true that it will prevent you from becoming an official.”

The scholar’s face turned red. “Your palm reading is inaccurate!”

The old monk smiled to himself, “Furthermore, you say that the top scholars can’t write famous poems, as if you could. There are only a few top scholars in history, which can be roughly estimated. But there are so many failed scholars like you who are poor at literary composition that they can’t be counted. Some down-and-out scholars are indeed talented and literary, but they can’t pass the imperial examinations, which can only be said to be due to their personality and incompatible fate. As for you, not only will you not succeed in the imperial examinations, but you will not succeed in anything. You can still get by relying on your family fortune.”

The scholar waved his sleeves and left.

“Foolish child.”

The old monk shook his head. “Those who complain greatly must have suffered great hardships. Virtue is not worthy of the position, resentment is not worthy of suffering, and they cannot even become self-reliant.”

The scholar was putting on his boots at the door. Hearing these words, he was infuriated. He turned around and angrily said, “Bald donkey, looking for a beating!”

“Beating is allowed.”

The old monk said, “But you have to pay for the medicine!”

The scholar hesitated for a moment, then left, telling people that the old monk was a swindler and that they shouldn’t waste their one or two taels of silver.

Unfortunately, the old monk was now quite famous in the capital city of the Qingluan Kingdom, and there were still many people waiting to have their palms read.

A young man with a sad expression entered the room and asked if his marriage could be resumed.

The old monk looked at his palm and shook his head, saying it would be difficult.

The man lamented and muttered that she was truly heartless, betraying his devoted love, but he didn’t resent her, only hated that he was poor and powerless. When he came to the sad part, a grown man actually clenched his fists and sobbed.

The old monk nodded and said, “Good, good, it’s a good habit to blame yourself and not others.”

The man choked and said, “Master, I just want to know how to untie the knot in my heart, otherwise I can’t go on living, I really can’t go on living.” Probably because there were others of his kind before him who had learned their lesson, the man raised his head and said, “Don’t tell me any of that nonsense about letting go or not letting go! Don’t tell me any of that muddled talk about the one who tied the knot must untie it. I can’t let go, and I won’t let go! I just want her to change her mind, I’m willing to do anything…” Finally, the man softly said the woman’s boudoir name, truly devoted.
The old monk said, “Two paths lie before you. One is simple: hunger cures all ills. The other is more complex, yet it allows you to understand your current predicament. Endure it, and life remains bearable. There is also a third, but for that, you must seek out the Old Man of the Moon (Yue Lao).”

After speaking, the old monk rubbed his fingers together.

The man shook his head. “I have no silver left.”

The old monk looked at him with disdain. “Then, hunger.”

The man prostrated himself on the ground, weeping bitterly.

The old monk sighed helplessly. “Very well, very well. Give me your hand.”

The man extended his hand. The old monk lightly touched the center of his palm. The man immediately became as still as a wooden chicken. After a moment, he slowly awoke, as if from another lifetime, his forehead covered in sweat.

The old monk said, “I charged you but one tael of silver, and you merely suffered a nightmare. But I endured the true agony of having my heart flayed and being plunged into boiling oil. Go now.”

The man staggered away.

The old monk sighed softly. He brought his fingers together, gently plucked at the air, and then lightly dabbed at his kasaya.

Afterward, a man who felt cheated came along, tossing a tael of silver onto the ground. He sat down, placed his hands on his knees, and gritted his teeth. “Since hitting someone requires payment, then I won’t hit anyone. I’ll just curse them. How about that?! Huh?!”

The old monk shook his head. “It cannot be.”

The man scoffed. “Why?!”

“Of course, you can curse me. I care not. But I cannot bear for you to needlessly create karmic debt. Having taken your silver, I cannot bear to harm you. Many in this world are trapped in the karma of their words without realizing it, and that greatly misleads them. Blessings and misfortunes have no door; they are summoned by oneself. The mouth and the heart are like two gates. Blessings and misfortunes have no door; they are summoned by oneself. I speak to you of closing the gate, of purifying the karma of speech, of clearing the mind of dust. Even the Confucians speak of ‘watchfulness in solitude,’ which is also closing the gate. The Daoists advocate purity and tranquility, which is still closing the gate. The gate of the heart is difficult to guard; even the cultivators on the mountains fear it. But we, mere mortals, if we cannot even manage to say a few less words, then things are not good. Do you still wish to curse?”

The man did not hesitate in the slightest, launching into a torrent of curses, his saliva flying.

The old monk glanced at the silver tael on the ground and endured it. He did not drive the man away, but simply waited until the man was exhausted from cursing. Only after the man had left did the old monk extend two fingers, gently hook at the air, and then rub them on his kasaya. What happens inside the room stays inside the room. As for other matters, everything is a matter of fate.

A middle-aged scholar first made a bow outside the door, then removed his shoes and entered the room. He sat on a futon, gently placed the silver on the ground, and then asked, “May I ask, esteemed monk, the Buddhists speak of cause and effect, of reincarnation. But if there truly is a next life, and a repayment for every deed, then in my next life, I will not know the matters of this life. Am I still me? I do not know that I am me, and I unknowingly receive all sorts of karmic retribution, good or bad, bewildered and suffering. When will it ever end?”

“A good question.”

The old monk smiled. “It can be resolved. Allow me to explain slowly.”

The man couldn’t help but ask again, “Why can’t all worldly retribution be in this life?”

The old monk’s eyes lit up. He shouted, “Who is it at this moment, who asks such a fine question?!”

The man stood up, clasped his hands together. “I do not know if it is a fine question, only that the monk is good at answering.”

The man left.

He even forgot to put on his shoes.

The next one was a refined-looking old man.

After giving a tael of silver, he asked about the origins of a certain mountain and water deity. The old monk gave some of his own views, but frankly admitted that they were copied from the books of you Confucian scholars and that he found some truth in them.

The old man did not mind, and lamented that there were simply too many ignorant and stubborn people in the world, too many who chased after petty gains, especially those young scholars, who were too engrossed in fame and fortune…

The old monk merely listened to the other party’s lamentations about the state of the world. After a long while, he asked with a smile, “Benefactor, what did you have for your meal today?”

The other party smiled. “Only the light vegetarian meal from the White Cloud Temple not far away.”

The old monk nodded. “Those who are not accustomed to eating big fish and meat will not sincerely find vegetarian food light, but instead find it unpalatable.”

The other party’s expression changed slightly. The old monk then said, “Those who are full and have nothing to do, telling a hungry man that the food is not good, are prone to burping and annoying others.”

The old man stood up, sneering. “What enlightened monk? You are only famous in name!”

The old monk pocketed the silver, laughing. “The silver is real, though.”

Afterward, a big, burly man came, but he was timid and hesitant. “Great Monk, I am a butcher. Can I still be reborn as a human in the next life?”

The old monk asked, “What do you seek in killing and selling meat every day?”

The man was somewhat uneasy, and said in a low voice, “To earn money, to support my family.”

The old monk smiled. “Open your hand. Let me take a look.”

In the end, the man left with a smile.

After him came a person who was not there to have his fortune read. He simply asked the old monk, “Esteemed monk, why do you always say ‘I,’ and never refer to yourself as ‘poor monk’? Doesn’t that seem to break Buddhist rules?”

The old monk replied, “I am quite wealthy, and possess a little Dharma.”

The person did not know whether to laugh or cry, but found it amusing, and left satisfied.

A woman stood shyly at the door. The old monk smiled. “Female benefactor, no need to remove your shoes.”

The young woman was asking if her son was suitable for studying and if he would be able to pass the imperial examinations.

The old monk smiled and extended his hand, but the woman blushed, extended her hand and then retracted it. The old monk glanced at his palm, put his hand down as well, and smiled. “You have a man in your heart, and I have no woman in my heart. But these are words that I can say, but ordinary monks cannot hear, let alone do. It’s like the relationship between you and your mother-in-law. Many principles, you can hear, but she cannot. She can hear, but you cannot. Often, both principles are good principles. It all depends on who is willing to give up first, and who is more willing to give up.”

The woman was extremely surprised, and nodded gently, as if she had understood something. Then, she looked troubled, because there was some domestic discord in her family that she could endure, but she was a little worried about her husband. Her husband did not favor her mother-in-law too much, but he would only sigh on her side. If only he could say a few comforting words. It’s not as if she would truly make things difficult for him.

The old monk smiled. “You understand the ways of a slow and steady relationship, but you still need a way to solve the immediate crisis?”

The woman nodded vigorously, her smile as bright as a flower.

The old monk said, “With a certain family style, there will be certain children. Your husband’s nature is good, but…”

The woman quickly waved her hand.
The old monk chuckled and changed the subject, “As the saying goes, to choose a pig, look at its pen. For women marrying and men taking wives, matters of marriage are much the same. You are a well-to-do family with both a son and a daughter, so focus on teaching them well. Don’t let some girl suffer in your household in the future, and don’t let your daughter become the kind of mother-in-law you despise. That’s something you can certainly achieve. The reason I speak to you like this is that you’ve likely considered it already. If it were another woman with different intentions, I wouldn’t dare say such things.”

The woman gave a Wanfu bow, thanked him, and departed, mindful of entering the house with shoes, she apologized to the old monk.

The old monk laughed, “Those three families should be thanking you.”

Then came a handsome young master from a wealthy family, who gave silver and began to ask the old monk why understanding so many principles from books seemed useless.

The old monk smiled, “The sages in your Confucian books have long exhorted you, with tireless hearts, to focus on cultivation, not on the harvest. But after closing the book, you only ask about the result, not the process. In the end, you complain that you know countless principles from books, yet you haven’t lived a good life. Isn’t that a bit off? Actually, if you are living quite well and still say it’s not good, isn’t that even worse?”

Finally, the old monk asked, “Do you truly understand principles?”

The young man was visibly annoyed, “How could I not? I’ve read so widely, studying all the schools of thought. I’ve read more than all your scriptures combined!”

The old monk shook his head, “You’ve read much, but you understand less. Indeed, you know even less than those who have read little.”

The young man, accustomed to comfort and privilege, was stubborn as a mule. “I know! What can you do about it?”

The old monk simply kept repeating, “You don’t know.”

Of course, the old monk wouldn’t waste time arguing with him, delaying his earnings, so he let the next guest enter, attending to both customers without delay.

Suddenly, the young man blurted out, “I don’t know.”

The old monk, who was already speaking with another person, immediately replied, “You don’t know a damn thing.”

The young man who had been eavesdropping on the conversation in the courtyard suddenly burst into laughter, “Haha, the bald donkey is committing verbal offense himself!”

The old monk stared blankly at him.

“Your family has been merchants for generations, finally managing to cultivate a scholar like you, hoping you’ll bring glory to the family. But you are indecisive, always hoping to encounter a benefactor, relying on your elders to secure connections. You are complacent, relying on luck to ace the exams, self-assured in front of others, but ecstatic in private. On your journey, you heard that the river goddess was amorous, so you submitted offerings to the temple, but were ignored. Then you wrote lewd poems, asking your classmates about their literary merit, slandering the goddess’s reputation. The goddess sought retribution, but luckily, you still had some ancestral blessings. The local earth deity, mindful of your ancestors opening soup kitchens during famines and giving selflessly to the poor, tried his best to intercede on your behalf. Even though the realms of the living and the dead are different, and gods and humans are separate, he still wanted to give you a warning dream. Seeing that you were still smug, unaware of your ancestors’ disappointment, in a fit of anger, the earth deity stopped bothering with you. You remain completely oblivious, and the family’s ancestral hall has already had its beams dismantled by your own hand.”

“I’ve retreated again and again, not speaking any Buddhist doctrines you wouldn’t understand, only saying things you can comprehend. If I truly committed a verbal offense, and you cursed me as a bald donkey in your mind and with your mouth, wouldn’t your karmic burden be even greater? Since you know so many principles, please teach me about your family’s foundation, business matters. It seems you should know how to do that. If my verbal offense exchanges for your verbal offense, I lose, and you lose. Is this deal truly worthwhile for you? What did you gain? Since you know so many principles, please enlighten me.”

“You are simply afraid of how I know about your shady dealings. Even now, after all this, you still don’t want to consider whether you truly know anything, what exactly do you know?”

The young man suddenly went from sitting to kneeling, begging the old monk to save him from the sea of suffering.

The old monk said, “Seeking help from others is not as good as seeking help from yourself.”

“Money in this world has no inherent purity or filth, only the human heart has black and white.”

The young man only knelt and kowtowed, begging incessantly.

The old monk rebuked, “You think there’s no right or wrong, only perspective? See how long you can remain arrogant, clever, self-satisfied, and gleeful! Just enjoy your good fortune!”

“Next!”

The next person was also a traveler from afar, appearing to be around thirty years old, with a distinguished bearing. He smiled and said, “Monk, your chicken soup… tastes a bit strange.”

The old monk smiled, “Benefactor, you can just say it’s not good. Because most of the time, it only makes the angered more angered, and the suffering more suffering.”

The man placed a piece of silver, “I believe that master truly has Buddhist Dharma, but if other people’s troubles are so small, why not teach them small techniques that have immediate results? Wouldn’t that be spreading the Dharma even more?”

The old monk shook his head, “For urgent illnesses, there are many pharmacies and doctors. What do they need me for? If there is nothing wrong, eating more is enough.”

The man felt unsatisfied, far from resolving his doubts.

The old monk was already smiling, “How small are the small troubles of ordinary people? How great do you think the Buddha Dharma in my heart is? Can it truly have immediate results? I don’t even need to talk about troubles or Dharma, just consider that you were able to travel from tens of thousands of miles away to sit here and say these words to me. How many joys and sorrows have you experienced? Perhaps the benefactor’s heart has not yet given rise to a new small trouble, but if this matter is viewed from a distance, wouldn’t it be considered small?”

The man smiled wryly, dismissively shaking his head, “All that I have seen, heard, learned, realized, thought, and considered in this life was for engaging in this kind of Zen debate with the master today.”

The old monk waved his hand, “Then go elsewhere.”

Within a day, the courtyard became crowded with people, bustling and lively.

The last person today was the middle-aged abbot of the White Cloud Temple, a small Daoist temple in the capital.

The second to last person was a demon spirit that had transformed into human form.

The old monk knew, and the middle-aged abbot certainly knew as well.

Before taking off his shoes, the middle-aged Daoist did not perform the Daoist obeisance, but instead, folded his hands together in a Buddhist salute.

The old monk smiled, “Abbot doesn’t need to give that silver or two. In my eyes, I only see that glimmer of Buddhist light in the hearts of sentient beings. I cannot see anything else, no monsters or demons.”

The middle-aged Daoist smiled knowingly and nodded slightly.

The old monk continued, “I fear misunderstanding the Buddha Dharma, even more so, speaking it wrongly. I don’t fear teaching people what is good about the Dharma, I only fear teaching them how to take the first step, and then every step thereafter. Difficult indeed. Painful indeed. The little novice has Buddha in his heart, but might not be able to speak the Dharma. The great monk can speak the Dharma, but might not have Buddha in his heart.”
The middle-aged Daoist spoke two sentences:

“Sudden enlightenment arises from gradual enlightenment.”

“Gradual enlightenment leads towards sudden enlightenment.”

The old monk lowered his head, pressed his palms together and chanted, “Amitabha. Well said, well said.”

In the Divine Continent of the Central Earth, an immortal arrived at a blessed grotto-heaven.

Beneath the immortal’s feet lay a bronze mirror, a hundred zhang in diameter, but arranged around it were twenty chairs, resembling an ancestral hall.

As the immortal revealed themself, they activated the ancient mirror’s formation. Within the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, figures appeared one after another, gracefully taking their seats. There were over a dozen in total, though their faces were obscured and indistinct.

However, the two chairs at the forefront remained vacant for the time being.

All remained silent, communicating with each other through mental voices.

The one seated in the lowest position spoke first, “Does my Qionglin Sect need to secretly stir things up a bit?”

The immortal who was the host of this place sneered, “Fool. Secretly? How secretly?! Do you take those Confucian Sages of the Literary Temples for simpletons?”

The immortal master from the Qionglin Sect fell silent as if struck by a chill, then hastily rose, apologizing to everyone.

In the countryside near the Great Li border, a group of playing children finally saw dust billowing in the distance and immediately jumped and shouted with excitement.

A squadron of elite cavalry galloped past.

The children raced along the hillside.

One of the mounted soldiers turned his head to look, gently clenching his fist and tapping his chest.

In the desolate wilderness of the Barbaric Lands, Mount Tuoyue (Moon-Supporting) trembled slightly, then the movement grew more violent, almost giving the impression that the mountain was about to overturn.

Then, the great formation of Mount Tuoyue activated, causing the entire mountain to suddenly sink several dozen zhang. The disturbance ceased.

Upon the Sword Qi Great Wall, a figure in crimson robes, who had been sitting motionless, eyes closed in contemplation as if dead, suddenly stood up and laughed loudly, “A Liang, come visit when you have the time!”