Chapter Seventeen: The Ancient Cultivator's Abode

Refining the Fire Alchemy Pill, the pill must complete nine transformations. Watermark advertisement test, watermark advertisement test. Even Liaochen himself likely had no idea what he truly gathered when collecting the sun’s purple qi. The blazing sun was as fierce as fire, utterly different from the usual gentle purple qi; astonishingly, it ignited within Liaochen’s dantian. This fire, rootless and unsupported, manifested as a mass of purple flames, burning ceaselessly. Liaochen’s golden core was already a thing of utmost yang and strength, yet even so, the purple fire began to melt it, giving it a molten aspect. And since the golden core had long been merged with Liaochen’s spirit and soul, it was no wonder he lost consciousness. Still, the purple fire was relentless; as the golden core burned, specks of golden light began to emanate, and after a long time, a single drop of black elixir sweat dripped out, as if perspired by the melting, then was vaporized by the flames and expelled from the dantian. The purple fire did not die out, nor did the golden light fade. Gradually, Liaochen’s golden core began to assimilate with the purple fire, transforming toward a purple-gold hue, though it had shrunk considerably.

In his dream, Liaochen found himself amid a world-drowning flood, torrential rain pouring down, the world a vast expanse of white. There were no mountains, no trees, no people. He floated, sometimes sinking, sometimes surfacing, in the water. No matter what spells he recited, none worked at all. Panic-stricken, Liaochen shouted desperately for help, but no one answered for a long while.

Exhausted and hoarse, just as despair was setting in, a small boat drifted into view. An elderly man, hair loose and clad in black, sat upon it, smiling at the floundering Liaochen and asked, “Do you wish to be saved?” Liaochen nodded vigorously, “Elder, please save this poor Daoist!” The old man chuckled, rowed over, and pulled Liaochen aboard. Drawing a deep breath, Liaochen immediately bowed deeply and said, “Boundless blessings to the Celestial Sovereign! Thank you for your rescue. May I ask your esteemed name, so that I may repay this kindness someday?” The elder laughed, “Standing here in my place, and yet you don’t know who I am?” Liaochen was startled and about to reply when, suddenly, he awoke. There was no deluge—only a white monkey at his side pouring water over him with a leaf, from who knows where.

Awakening from his dream, Liaochen found the feverish heat in his body had dissipated. He immediately examined his dantian and discovered the purple fire had long vanished, but his golden core had shrunk by nearly half and changed from red-gold to purple-gold. Spinning his core, Liaochen found it responded at will; his meridians were unharmed, and he was relieved. He ignored the monkey, now shrieking with excitement at his awakening, and instead knelt facing north to thank the Supreme Emperor of the Profound Heavens for granting him new life.

Liaochen had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Today should have been the day the Ascension Ceremony of the Black Tortoise Emperor opened, yet there was no sign of activity atop Mount Wudang. Clearly, he had been passed out for at least a day. When he asked the monkey, it gestured between three and four fingers repeatedly, leaving Liaochen baffled: was it three or four days, or even three or four months? Fortunately, his power was restored, and he could move freely again. He picked up the monkey and leapt down from the mountain peak, frightening it into a shrill scream. As they fell mid-air, Liaochen halted his descent at will, treading on empty air to walk gently down the mountain. Only then did the monkey quiet, frozen in terror from the ordeal.

“You! Your courage is nothing compared to Cloud Fox,” Liaochen chided the monkey. It gazed innocently at him, not understanding, for not every creature could be as extraordinary as Cloud Fox. Liaochen brought the monkey down the mountain to search for the fragment of a pill furnace the monkey had found. If his guess was correct, this was the site of an ancient cultivator’s cave. Strangely, it had remained undiscovered for a millennium. He showed the monkey the fragment, and the monkey understood but still clung to Liaochen, pointing south with its arm and looking up at him. Liaochen sighed helplessly; this monkey was indeed a lazy one. He could only keep sighing, conceal their presence, and fly in the direction the monkey indicated.

The place where the monkey found the pill furnace shard was not far; after the time it takes for half an incense stick to burn, they arrived. It was at the foot of a cliff, no wonder it had remained hidden; save for monkeys and birds, few would ever come here. Even herbalists would not venture so far, given how much of Mount Wudang was desolate, teeming with poisonous snakes and fierce beasts.

Liaochen, following the monkey’s direction, floated down and, halfway up the cliff, heard the monkey cry out. Sweeping the area with his spiritual sense, he found, hidden by vines, a cave entrance. He parted the vines with the monkey, revealing a cave two meters in diameter, its entrance smoothed with no sharp edges, bearing the carved name: Red Star Cave.

He entered with the monkey. The cave was not deep but opened into a wondrous interior. A spring bubbled in one corner, its clear water trickling out to form a stream that nourished the lush vines outside. The cave extended several dozen yards in, but beyond the first yard, it opened into a spacious chamber, with sunlight shafting in from a high aperture, illuminating the interior. The cave was divided by stone walls into sections, clearly the work of the ancient cultivator who had invested much effort here.

Liaochen first entered the left room. It was empty save for a stone pedestal; most likely, it had once held scriptures, but after so many years, even bamboo slips would have turned to dust. Liaochen shook his head in disappointment and went to the second room, which seemed designed for raising spiritual beasts, as evidenced by an animal’s skeleton lying there, its species unrecognizable. Entering the central room, he found what must have been the master’s meditation chamber. There, a withered body sat cross-legged on a mat, palms and soles facing upward in the five hearts toward heaven posture. Even after a thousand years, it remained as it was. Liaochen respectfully bowed, honoring this predecessor who had perished here, for though he did not know their story, he felt deep respect for all who trod the path of cultivation.

He stepped forward to arrange a proper burial, but as he touched the bones, they crumbled instantly to dust. Regretful, he realized he should have expected such decay after so long. He quickly gathered the ashes into a small urn, recited the Rebirth Sutra for the departed, and, though the soul was long gone, offered this token of respect. With the rituals complete, his attention turned to the mat on the stone bed. For it to endure a millennium without decay, it could not be ordinary. He gently picked it up—light as a feather, cool to the touch, still exuding a faint, calming herbal fragrance after all this time. To his delight, hidden inside the mat was a jade disc inscribed with array patterns. Though unfamiliar with these particular markings, he surmised the array was for meditation—either to calm the mind or to gather spiritual energy. If it was the latter, it would indeed be a heaven-sent treasure. Carefully, he stored the mat in his spatial pouch, called to the monkey at the cave entrance not to wander, and entered the fourth stone chamber.

This room had likely been the alchemy chamber, but time had erased all traces of precious herbs, leaving only a damaged pill furnace. The furnace, about two feet square with three legs and two handles, was missing a corner. The fragment in his hand likely belonged to it. Bronze-bodied, adorned with a Bagua motif and auspicious clouds, infused with the essence of the five elements—it must have been a remarkable, high-grade cauldron. Liaochen shook his head, lamenting its ruined state; now, it was valuable only as an artifact. Nonetheless, he collected it for future study. Entering the final chamber, he found it empty except for a grand inscription: “Here, Red Star Master refined pills, in the third month of the seventh year of King You of Zhou.” Written in ancient script, it was clearly left by the cave’s owner. At last, Liaochen knew who had built this abode.

He buried the spiritual beast’s bones from the stone chamber, then sealed the cave entrance with a large rock. On a favorable spot midway up the mountain, he laid Red Star Master to rest, erected a stele inscribed, “Tomb of Red Star Master, cultivator and senior, erected by Liaochen, disciple of Xuanguang Temple,” burned three sticks of incense, poured a libation of wine, and departed gracefully, leaving behind a lonely grave for future generations to discover and honor.

Returning to the Palace of Purple Clouds, Liaochen learned he had, without realizing it, spent three years in the mountains. He could not help but sigh at the swiftness of time.

“Immortal Liaochen, in these three years, the imperial court has scoured the land searching for you,” Master Chongjing remarked, unchanged in demeanor. Liaochen was silent. If three years had passed, Emperor Hongzhi must have already passed away; it would now be the second year of the Zhengde era.

“Life and death are decreed by Heaven. I have already gone against fate once; how could I defy Heaven again? The only thing to fear is not knowing contentment,” Liaochen replied with a sigh.

Master Chongjing chuckled, “He who cultivates the Dao understands such matters, thus it is kept secret. Heaven’s course is fixed and cannot be forced. Now that your practice is complete, may I ask…”

“In three days, I shall give a discourse before the Purple Cloud Palace,” Liaochen answered cheerfully, not daring to break his word before the Supreme Emperor of the Profound Heavens.