Within the humble walls of a dilapidated courtyard, nestled in a forgotten alleyway of Yongjia County, jewel of the Jade Hsuan Kingdom, an encounter unfolded.

A middle-aged Daoist, claiming to have been drawn by a spectral disturbance in the night, paused within the yard. He inhaled deeply, a knowing smile gracing his lips. “Even from the lane outside, a fragrance of herbs reached me, beckoning me forth. Unless my senses deceive me, I detect wolfsbane and ginger amongst the blend. Tell me, young one, are you a purveyor of remedies?”

Ningji, the youth in question, blushed with a humble air. “I dare not call myself such. I am but a traveler, who, in the flight from sorrow, stumbled upon a ruined apothecary. Within its dusty shelves, I found discarded tomes of medicinal lore. I study them as I journey, yet claim only the barest understanding.”

The Daoist gestured with a kind hand. “If it troubles you not, allow me a glimpse of these texts.”

The lad rose swiftly, his face lit with a grateful grin. “Trouble? Not at all, Wu Daozhang. Wait but a moment, and I shall retrieve them.”

He moved with a nimble step toward the small cottage, mindful of his grandfather, whose aged slumber was easily disturbed. With utmost care, he retrieved a camphorwood box of his own making, and returned to the courtyard, offering it to the learned Master Wu.

Chen Ping’an, taking the box in hand, refrained from opening it at once. A playful glint sparkled in his eye. “Let me venture a guess. Within this box lie volumes penned by those of the Fire God Sect, a school of medicine that rose in prominence within the last three centuries.”

A look of astonishment washed over Ningji’s face. “Wu Daozhang, are you truly blessed with prophetic sight?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head, his smile widening. “These physicians and apothecaries are known for their liberal use of ginger and aconite. It is a simple deduction, based upon the herbs you lay out to dry. No mystic art is needed here.”

The youth’s understanding dawned. Though Wu Daozhang had revealed his reasoning, the lad’s respect for the unassuming Daoist only deepened.

Had Lu Chen not pierced the veil, Chen Ping’an would never have imagined that this slender youth was the quarry that the scholars of the Literary Temple sought so desperately.

“You have knowledge of the Fire God Sect, then?” Chen Ping’an asked, his voice gentle.

Ningji nodded, a touch of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “I often sell herbs to the apothecaries of the town. Over time, I have overheard their learned pronouncements.”

With a smile, Chen Ping’an unlatched the box and lifted the tomes. He imagined the youth, far from his homeland, using these books to heal his own ills and earn his daily bread.

The books themselves were of common make, printed from well-worn blocks. The characters were often blurred or flawed, a dangerous prospect for a book of medicine, where a single misplaced stroke could lead to grievous error.

“As the saying goes,” Chen Ping’an began, “‘A book thrice copied becomes a fish-shaped 魯 (Lu), a Tiger-shaped 帝 (Di).’ Meaning, no matter how pure the original, with each transcription and printing, errors creep in. Misprints, omissions, inverted characters – all are unavoidable. Should the opportunity arise, seek out older, purer texts, and compare them diligently, as does a Secretary or Scholar in the Imperial Archives, correcting flaws and preventing the spread of false knowledge.”

Ningji nodded earnestly, committing the words to memory. Yet, the thought of acquiring such rare and costly books filled him with despair.

Chen Ping’an continued, as though reading the youth’s thoughts, “The wolfsbane you gathered this spring. Know this, the very same herb, harvested in different seasons and different lands, may possess different names and varying properties. Consider wolfsbane. In the ancient lands of Shu, within the Kingdom of Huangting, and the Grand Li of Dragon Province, recently renamed Chu Prefecture, its potency is greater. And of these, the finest is harvested in the ninth moon and dried in the sun. There, it is known by the name Mud Aconite. For as the soil nurtures the people of a land, so too does it influence the herbs that spring from it.”

Ningji’s eyes shone with newfound knowledge. “Wu Daozhang, I have only heard tell of Grand Li of Dragon Province. I vow to journey to those places one day and see them with my own eyes.”

“Youthful blood burns strong with ambition, seeking knowledge in ten thousand scrolls and experience on ten thousand leagues of road.” Chen Ping’an returned the books to their camphorwood box, handing it back to the youth. “Life is a long road, and a place to rest, a cup of water to quench thirst, is a blessing. Allow me to offer one final word. Among the schools of medicine, disagreements run deep, and their arguments can be fierce. Yet, a learned man does not resort to volume, but to words that cut all the sharper. The truth is, the disagreements lie not within the books themselves, but within those who read them. It lies within the climates of the lands where those who take the medicines dwell, and in the teachings and experience of those who prescribe them. Ningji, you have studied the scrolls, so I ask you, when these physicians squabble, who is right, and who is wrong?”

The youth pondered, his brow furrowed in thought. He began to speak, then stopped.

Chen Ping’an smiled. “Speak freely. This is not an examination hall, nor am I an examiner. I am no schoolmaster, and you are no trembling student. We are but sharing a moment together. There is no need for trepidation.”

Words are but a bridge between souls, yet they can also be barriers, lines drawn in the sand.

Ningji scratched his head, his voice hesitant. “Wu Daozhang, is it possible… that there is no right or wrong? That there is only better… and most fitting?”

Chen Ping’an chuckled. “The answer is yours to find in time. In scholarship, argue fiercely, but in life, seek balance and peace.”

The youth pondered the Daoist’s words, a seed of wisdom planted in his mind.

The Daoist chuckled. “You understand such profound things, young one?”

The lad grinned, his eyes wide. “Not entirely. But I’ll remember them and think on them later.”

The Daoist stroked his beard in approval. “A promising pupil indeed.”

With each exchange with Master Wu, an unbidden tranquility settled over the young man’s heart.

It was as though a new landscape had emerged in the realm of his spirit, a place called Grand Li of Dragon Province. Along that path, lay bookshops, their shelves laden with medicinal texts, tantalizingly out of reach. And, echoing in the distance, he could hear the boisterous arguments of the physicians, their voices rising and falling in heated debate. Above it all, a gentle voice repeated a single phrase: Seek balance and peace.

Yet, these subtle shifts in his inner world remained unknown to the impoverished youth named Ningji.

“Our meeting is no accident,” the Daoist declared. “From my youth, I wandered the land, plying my trade as a fortune-teller. I have even served as a traveling physician. Therefore, I shall share with you several prescriptions: the Left and Right Returning Pills, the Supplement Qi and Boost the Middle Decoction, the Honeysuckle and Forsythia Powder, the Four Reverse Flow Decoction, and the Purple Snow Pill. To learn too much at once is to learn nothing. For now, I impart these. Perhaps we shall meet again in the future… who knows?”

Ningji’s face flushed with excitement. He stammered, his voice thick with gratitude, “Wu Daozhang, I know only the Four Reverse Flow Decoction. The books say it can warm the middle burner, dispel cold, restore Yang, and save against reversal.”

The Daoist smiled to himself and continued, “These prescriptions require money. Since you are familiar with the wonders of Four Reverse Flow Decoction, I will teach you a remedy that costs almost nothing: the heated back method. Before you venture into areas heavy with miasma, build a small fire at home. Upon your return, turn your back to the heat, allowing it to penetrate your flesh until beads of sweat appear on your brow. This will open the Governing Vessel, restoring Yang.”

The Daoist’s gaze softened. “I am a wanderer, and care little for coin. Such matters hold no sway over my heart. Therefore, I seek not your meager savings. If you feel indebted, then I ask only that you show kindness in your future endeavors, and let your deeds of good outweigh the ill. By repaying the world, you shall repay your debt to me.”

The youth nodded, his mind still struggling to comprehend the Daoist’s generosity.

“Do you have paper, brush, and ink?” Chen Ping’an inquired.

“Yes, I do!” Ningji exclaimed, hurrying into the cottage.

As the lad rushed to fetch the requested items, the Daoist glanced toward the alleyway beyond the courtyard. A woman stood silhouetted against the wall, fading back into the shadows. The Daoist smiled, feigning ignorance.

Xue Ruyi scoffed, her voice barely audible. “Con games and deception, playing the divine… such a bore.”

Earlier, she had noticed the Daoist slipping out of the residence in the dead of night, his movements furtive. With nothing better to occupy her time, she followed him. He had brought her to Yongjia County, and now she wondered if he was a flower thief or a rooftop bandit, but now she knew that he has come to the boy’s room.

A righteous voice suddenly echoed in her ear. “Honorable lady, you misunderstand Wu Daozhang.”

Xue Ruyi, startled, turned and beheld a humble Daoist garbed in a coarse cotton robe. Young, yet possessing a deceptive air of serenity.

“And you are?” she asked.

The Daoist cleared his throat. “I am Lu. You may call me Lu Daozhang. Not to boast, but I am even more skilled in fortune-telling than Wu Daozhang. The I Ching, the spirit-writing, the Plum Blossom Numerology, and all other arts are within my grasp. Especially in the matter of ‘casting lots’, I have been gifted with the ability to touch divination and sacred inspiration.”

Xue Ruyi, unable to discern the newcomer’s true nature, reluctantly listened to the impudent pronouncements of Master Lu.

She noted the Daoist’s appearance: a wooden hairpin securing his topknot, a simple cotton robe, a black satchel at his waist, and a cloth bundle slung across his shoulder.

Seeing her glance at his bag, the younger Daoist smiled, “A gift from a former prison guard friend of mine. A reminder of old days, so I cherish it. From ancient times, medicine and the Dao have been intertwined, a path to Immortality.”

Xue Ruyi feigned surprise. “You also read geomancy? Judging the fortune of living dwellings, the quality of spirit abodes?”

Lu Chen shook his head. “I am not particularly skilled in that endeavor.”

The word “particularly” was emphasized, lending a hint of insincerity.

Xue Ruyi chuckled. “A pity. I was hoping to invite you to cast your discerning eye upon my home.”

Lu Chen adjusted the rope securing his bundle. “To be frank, I carry several pounds of dried Yellow Essence, a herb of exceptional quality, and affordable as well. It was meant for my own use, but if it pleases you, I will let you have it. I can always journey back to the mountains to procure more. On Mount Quan Jiao, a venerable Daoist once shared with me that by consuming Yellow Essence in the correct manner, one can ascend to the heavens.”

Lu Chen’s gaze did not leave the female ghost before him.

Regardless of gender, human or phantom, Immortal or demon, those who have lived long possess many stories.

Near the Gate of Passion, a beauty waits for a thousand years… to be seen.

Xue Ruyi scoffed. Consuming a few pounds of Yellow Essence and ascending to Immortality?

Who should he imitate but Wu Di, a familiar act. Was this young charlatan the one Wu Di sought in the Jade Hsuan Kingdom’s capital?

Judging by their ages, was he Wu Di’s bastard son?

Yet, their appearances did not match.

Lu Chen felt a hint of awkwardness. What did she think?

Chen Ping’an was merely presentable. He Lu Chen, on the other hand, was handsome.

Xue Ruyi inquired, “Wu Daozhang prefers planting flowers in his courtyard, while you prefer gathering herbs in the mountains?”

“Occasionally, occasionally. After all, healing and saving lives is about life and death. Well done, the ghost’s gate is opening a store. If done poorly, you can kill people with three fingers. I dare not be careful.”

Lu Chen smiled. “You may not know this, but one of the founders of our craft decreed that only those well-versed in the past and present, knowledgeable of heaven and humanity, and with hearts detached from both Immortality and Buddhism, may practice medicine.”

She sneered. “According to your words, how many qualified physicians can be found in the world?”

The young Daoist looked down in shame. “My words are clumsy. I cannot compare to your eloquence.”

Seeing that Wu Di was merely here to become more familiar with the boy, Xue Ruyi had no interest in bickering with the young man.

Before Xue Ruyi could leave, Lu Chen called out, “Honorable Miss, please wait.”

Xue Ruyi turned and found the young Daoist holding two sprigs of fresh artemisia.

She frowned. How did he obtain these?

Lu Chen extended his hand, offering the artemisia. “On the afternoon of the Fifth of May, I give you a pair of artemisia. On Dragon Boat Festival of this year, hang them on your door for protection.”

Xue Ruyi narrowed her eyes and smiled. “Leaving aside the customs of hanging artemisia, I ask you one thing: can they ward off evil spirits?”

The Daoist nodded vigorously. “Of course!”

Xue Ruyi snorted. She was wasting her time. Wu Di, at least, recognized her for a ghost.

The female ghost departed, and Lu Chen flicked his wrist, causing the artemisia to disappear. It reappeared before the haunted house, drifting toward the door. A celestial could have calculated that they would hang up the door on Dragon Boat Festival, after sunrise.

Lu Chen grasped the wall and leapt inside, landing gracefully in the courtyard.

Shaking his sleeves, the Daoist beamed with pride. What a good body.

Hidden on a rooftop, Xue Ruyi spat at the sight.

Inside the courtyard, Chen Ping’an finished writing the prescriptions, inventing a simple excuse to add an extra one, as well as instructions on how to make medicine for the old man.

He paid Lu Chen no attention.

He also knew nothing about when Lu Chen arrived, as well as the content of his talk with Xue Ruyi in the alley.

Lu Chen hurried over and laid his hand on the three papers. “What are you doing? A Daoist shouldn’t be this nice.”

Chen Ping’an had already helped Lu Chen.

The youth was confused.

Lu Chen smiled, “Please get me some water in a white bowl.”

Ning Ji nodded.

Chen Ping’an neatly stacked the rest of the prescriptions and placed them on the chair.

Lu Chen sat down on the steps, took the bowl from the youth, and smiled, “Whether you practice medicine or cultivate on the mountain, it all comes down to Yin and Yang.”

Ningji looked at Chen Ping’an, who nodded.

Lu Chen shook the bowl and smiled. “I am Lu Chen, of the Nanhua lineage, a teacher of the White Jade Capital. Tonight, I wish to take you as my disciple. Do you want to learn from me?”

Ningji was taken aback. He didn’t know what the young man was talking about.

He only knew that the man wanted to take him as his disciple.

Ningji’s face flushed as he looked back at Chen Ping’an.

But this time, Chen Ping’an did not say anything.

Lu Chen put down the bowl and raised both his hands, clenched. “Left or right?”

Ning Ji glanced back at Chen Ping’an, who nodded.

The boy looked back and forth. “Right.”

Lu Chen turned his back to Chen Ping’an and opened both of his hands, with one seal in each. There were two border characters that are only one character apart.

Wanderer in, wanderer out.

Lu Chen clenched his hands and pulled up his sleeves to hide the seals. “You see, Chen Daozhang is very free. Though he works all day, his mind does not change. He is a true Immortal, wandering in and out.”

Chen Ping’an smiled.

Lu Chen said in a book written 3,000 years ago. “A master is someone who wanders.”

Chen Ping’an realized the world seemed to freeze.

Ningji was not moving.

Lu Chen made the world pause.

Lu Chen brought out two jars of wine: Black Crow Wine and Spring Slumber Wine.

At the same time, three scrolls of Chen Ping’an appeared in the yard. They depicted Chen Ping’an practicing swords, holding talisman, and holding a sword behind his back.

These were all of his important phases of life. Martial arts, talismans, and swords.

“This Ningji is suited for talismans. Because, he can always get opportunities.”

Lu Chen looked at the painting where Chen Ping’an was holding a talisman. “The firefly talisman is suitable for us, and the others. . .”

He was able to use different talismans in different locations.

When Chen Ping’an was practicing martial arts on the boat, he would draw a talisman for focus, and draw a talisman for purify the area.

Then, a handsome qi trainer appeared.

Lu Chen said, “Lu Tai, who raised a dog that was named after me.”

Chen Ping’an didn’t think anything of these paintings. He only felt that he had traveled to many places.

When Chen Ping’an was on the ship coming back to Precious Bottle Continent, he found that he could draw Mountain River Swords Talisman and Rain Seeking Talisman. However, Chen Ping’an rarely used them until he offered them to the sky.

Lu Chen smiled. “These two are more related to your fate. ”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Does fate wait for the people, or do the people make fate?”

Lu Chen said, “That’s a good question.” He lightly touched their wine jars together and drank.

Lu Chen wiped his mouth. “Actually, it doesn’t matter who, we all have the same fate, you, I, Cao Rong, the woman in the haunted house, the boy next to her, and Ningji in this world. ”

With that, the paintings disappeared, and the world returned to normal.

Lu Chen then pointed the bowl and asked. “Why don’t you take in a disciple?”

Chen Ping’an was speechless.

The boy’s eyes lit up.

They were a beacon in the dark, full of hope.

Lu Chen smiled slyly.

Chen Ping’an glanced at Lu Chen and smiled. “Are you happy, Lu Zhangjiao?”

Lu Chen said, “Cao Rong said that you’re the best teacher. I agree.”

In some ways, Chen Ping’an had not accepted a student most like him yet.

After all, the person had to be a sword cultivator, learn martial arts, and also learn about talisman magic.

In this way, Chen Ping’an could teach all that he knew.

His students were all so good that Chen Ping’an barely even teaches them.

In this matter, Chen Ping’an had some regrets. He didn’t have to teach Cui Dongshan, and his disciple Cao Qinglang was taught by others. Zhao Shuxia taught himself martial arts.

Chen Ping’an looked at Lu Chen and asked him.

“Did we survive a certain winter?”

We?

What did that mean?

Lu Chen was stunned, and said, “Chen Ping’an, don’t try to be like Zheng Juhong!”

Seeing that Chen Ping’an didn’t say anything, Lu Chen raised his hand and said, “Do you need me to swear?!”

Chen Ping’an smirked.

His golden eyes flashed for a moment.

Chen Ping’an sighed in relief and nodded.

Before this, Chen Ping’an was afraid that he was just a key dream of Lu Chen.

“We are friends, don’t ruin my Dao heart.”

Lu Chen said cautiously, “Actually . . .”

Chen Ping’an interrupted, “Have you thought of doing that?”

Lu Chen blinked.

Chen Ping’an asked, “If you thought of it, why didn’t you do it?”

Lu Chen smiled. “Are you not curious as to why my Shizun stopped at your alley?”

Chen Ping’an frowned and asked, “Who used to live next to my ancestral home?”

Lu Chen laughed and hit his heart.