Chapter 180: The Great Dao Follows Nature
Sha Lingshan and Zhu Fei turned around in surprise. The young man who had been eating and drinking beside them was gone.
Zhu Fei was even more surprised. He had been sitting right next to her. When had he left?
Sha Lingshan was also puzzled. Even with her fourth-rank cultivation, she hadn’t noticed him leaving.
Having no time to waste on Li Ximing and Ghost Howl, she floated out the window and searched the area, but he was gone.
Li Ximing and Ghost Howl exchanged glances, relieved.
Li Ximing said, “Let’s get out of here.” Although the Sui Marquis Pearl was important, confronting Sha Lingshan here would be disastrous.
They quickly left, afraid she might return.
Zhu Fei, after a moment of hesitation, also left, paying for their meal.
After everyone was gone, a figure slid down from the rafters above.
He had been hiding there, undetected.
He sat back down at the table, finished his meal, and then left.
Shi Hao wandered aimlessly through the city.
As night fell, he walked through the streets and alleys, a silent observer.
He passed a group of gang members fighting, ignoring them.
He spent the latter half of the night in a small Earth God temple, leaving the city at daybreak.
The surrounding area was known for its scenic beauty and historical sites, a popular destination for scholars and travelers, but with the recent unrest in the Qinling Mountains and the barbarian court’s tightened control, few dared to travel now.
Shi Hao entered a maple forest, its leaves a fiery red, his movements light and agile, occasionally leaping through the air, as if riding the wind.
He felt the burning sensation within him subside slightly.
Ever since the Holy Jade Immortal and Su Mei had established his foundation in the Primordial Grotto Heaven, although his cultivation had progressed rapidly, it had also been unstable.
His ninth and eighth-rank foundations had been bestowed upon him.
And after advancing to the seventh rank, he had been infused with a massive amount of True Dragon energy due to the Emerald Beauty’s machinations.
This energy had forcibly propelled his cultivation forward, and it was only thanks to his timely return to the Primordial Grotto Heaven during the full moon, and the intervention of the Holy Jade Immortal and Su Mei, that his foundation had stabilized, allowing him to advance further without incident.
But his sixth-rank foundation remained unstable, like a castle built on sand, its appearance grand, but its structure weak, threatening to collapse at any moment.
And after his breakthrough, preoccupied with the situation in the Ba Mountains, his mind constantly racing, his cultivation had stagnated, relying solely on the passive circulation of his Daoist and demonic energies.
Then, the Demonic Qilin Blood Poison had entered his body, a potent, yang-oriented energy.
It wasn’t a poison but a powerful tonic, and his body couldn’t handle it.
His first instinct had been to escape, knowing that staying there with Du Yuejiao would endanger them both.
By leaving, he had ensured the old woman wouldn’t harm her.
And his subsequent flight through the wilderness, his mind clouded, had been a subconscious attempt at self-preservation.
Like a fever, a seemingly harmful symptom, it was actually the body’s defense mechanism.
By running, by exhausting himself, he had dispersed the excess energy.
Even his “amnesia” had been a form of self-preservation.
A confused mind led to erratic emotions, which disrupted his energy flow.
Now, his mind clear, his thoughts free, wandering aimlessly, he had inadvertently achieved a state of natural harmony, of effortless cultivation.
His Daoist and demonic energies, previously distinct and separate, now absorbed the potent energy of the Blood Poison, which had initially threatened to destroy him. And in this state of mental clarity and physical exertion, they began to merge, intertwining and flowing together seamlessly.
What was Dao? What was demon?
He no longer cared.
Like the yin and yang of the taiji symbol, the two energies within him began to fuse.
He couldn’t have achieved this in his normal state. As long as he differentiated between Dao and demon, they would remain separate, their interaction a constant struggle, even if mutually beneficial.
But now, his mind clear, his actions guided by instinct, the distinction between Dao and demon gone, he had achieved a state of pure, natural harmony.
The two opposing energies slowly merged.
Shi Hao strolled through the maple forest, its leaves a fiery red, white clouds drifting lazily above, occasionally leaping onto a high vantage point, gazing at the vast landscape, a sense of peace and contentment washing over him.
Leaving the forest, he reached a river, a steep cliff on the opposite bank, a dense forest behind him.
He picked up a branch, fashioned a fishing line from its bark, tied it to the end, sat down by the riverbank, and cast the line into the water.
And then, something strange happened. The line, thin and light, like a willow branch in the wind, instead of drifting with the current, stretched taut, its end sinking into the water, as if defying gravity, as if this were the natural order of things.
He hummed a tune as he fished.
The fish below, seeing the line, without hook or bait, were amused.
And he, watching them, was also amused.
He wasn’t fishing for fish, and the fish weren’t interested in him.
He was there, and they were there.
Was he fishing, or were they fishing for him?
The sun climbed higher, its warmth dispelling the morning chill, the water shimmering, the fish leaping and flashing in the sunlight.
An old man, his back hunched, emerged from the forest behind him.
He wore simple brown clothes, a common iron sword at his waist.
He coughed, then looked up at the young man fishing by the river.
He felt a strange sensation, as if the young man and his fishing rod were one with the surrounding landscape, as if he had always been there, a timeless presence.
The old man approached and sat down beside him, looking at the line in the water, “No hook?”
“No hook,” the young man replied.
“And no bait?”
“No bait.”
The old man chuckled, “No hook, no bait… you’re not fishing. What are you doing?”
The young man said, “Cultivating truth.”
The old man thought for a moment, “I’ve heard of cultivating the Dao, cultivating demonic arts… What is this ‘cultivating truth’?”
The young man smiled and recited a poem: “Pity all beings bound by empty names, for only through understanding can one escape life’s games; wisdom shines like the moon in the night, while earthly passions, like ice, cold and bright. Turn back the gate, let the senses cease, and see the void, find inner peace; for flawed actions and incomplete merit are but illusions, and through alchemy’s fire, true enlightenment is not inherit.”
The old man asked, “If ‘flawed actions and incomplete merit are but illusions, and through alchemy’s fire, true enlightenment is not inherit,’ then what is true?”
The young man replied, “Nine cycles complete, yet no elixir found, for spells and charms hold no power profound; without flowing pearls, no lead can be seen, the Great Dao follows nature, serene.”
The old man pondered his words, then nodded, “I understand.”
He sat cross-legged on the grass, watching the young man fish.
The wind died down, the midday sun warming the air.
The young man asked, “Why have you come here, old man?”
The old man looked up at the drifting clouds, “For a fight.”
The young man looked at him, then sighed, “It seems you’ve come here… to die.”
The old man chuckled, “Perhaps. I’ve lived a long life, done what I needed to do. I’m old and frail. It’s time for the younger generation to take over.
“It’s a pity I won’t live to see China restored, our people free. But I believe that day will come.”
The young man looked at him and nodded, “You’re a good man.” His mind clear, his spirit free, he spoke his thoughts without hesitation.
A small boat appeared upstream, drifting towards them.
A middle-aged man stood on the boat, wearing a straw raincoat, his hair short and thick, his eyes sharp and bright, a sword at his waist.
The boat reached them, and the man, turning it with a subtle movement of his feet, faced the old man.
The boat remained motionless in the flowing river, as if anchored by an invisible chain.
The middle-aged man looked at the old man and said, his voice deep and resonant, “You’re early.”
The old man’s voice was frail, “I’ve taken care of everything. It’s a rare day of leisure.”
The middle-aged man looked at the young man fishing, “And who is this?”
The old man said, “A young man cultivating truth. He was already here when I arrived.”
The middle-aged man said, “I’ve heard of cultivating the Dao, cultivating demonic arts… What is this ‘cultivating truth’?”
The old man recited the young man’s words, “Nine cycles complete, yet no elixir found, for spells and charms hold no power profound; without flowing pearls, no lead can be seen, the Great Dao follows nature, serene.”
The middle-aged man pondered these words, then said, his voice low, “He has a point.” He paused, then asked, “Since he was here first, shall we move elsewhere?”
The young man by the river put down his fishing rod, wrapping the bark fishing line around it and placing it across his lap. He smiled, “It’s alright. Although I was here first, I don’t own this place. Do what you need to do. I’ll just watch. I won’t interfere.”
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