Chapter Ten: Chant

The Four Great Schools—Conquering Evil, Alchemy, Mountain Talismans, and Purification—form the foundation of the Daoist tradition in this world. The vast majority of Daoists spend their lives studying within the bounds of these four disciplines. Yet few are true cultivators, worthy of the name.

"In his early years, Yu Qiming was a merchant. Later, he experienced a sudden awakening. It is said that he was visited in a dream by the Dao Lord Lingqi Wen Yue, and in only two days, he grasped the Way, shedding the shackles of worldly dust and achieving freedom."

Walking through the courtyard, the two made their way towards the two-story pavilion, conversing about this renowned Daoist cultivator of the Western Province.

Yu Qiming, also called Yu the Cultivator.

An elder practitioner, well past seventy years.

It was clear that Priest Jiang held him in high esteem. Although Yu hailed from the Zhengyuan Temple, not Haiyun, years ago Jiang's master had led their disciples to pay him a visit. As is customary among Daoists, they engaged in a discussion of the Way, which ended with Jiang's master admitting his own inferiority, bowing and pouring tea in the manner of a humble student.

"Yu the Cultivator has long since departed from here. It's said he has retreated to Yuanyang Peak for solitary cultivation and has moved out of this courtyard. Zhengyuan Temple now uses it to host visiting Daoist disciples."

Soon, Chen Yu arrived at the hidden two-story tea house in the bustling city.

[Seeking Distant Study]

The path of the Dao is vast; it is sought and ever distant.

This phrase surfaced in Chen Yu's mind. He was unsure which Daoist text it came from—Cloud Crane Temple had few books, perhaps only a handful. He recalled that after these short lines, there was a half line more.

Even in distance, one must seek.

Beside him, Priest Jiang interrupted his drifting thoughts.

"Come, there should still be plenty of seats inside."

They pushed open the door. The scent of sandalwood wafted through.

For a moment, their hearts were tranquil, peaceful as a secluded pond, all stray thoughts swept away.

...

As the hour of Shen approached, the two left the courtyard. Chen Yu raised his sleeve, arching his brow to inhale deeply. The fragrance of sandalwood lingered on him.

"The Quiet Study isn't much to see. It's meant for the elder cultivators and is managed by senior members. Daoist Chen, why not stay a while longer and discuss the Dao with those in the pavilion?"

At the door, Priest Jiang seemed reluctant to part; he had anticipated that Daoist Chen would possess uncommon learning.

Cultivation is often measured in years, but sometimes, age does not matter.

To borrow the words of a Haiyun Temple priest: cultivation is about oneself. Age is of little consequence; spiritual aptitude is key.

And this one—without doubt, he was among the most gifted Daoists Jiang had ever met.

Though it was clear he had not read many Daoist classics, he always spoke with striking insight, leading others to revelation. His words were never empty or reckless.

Perhaps such is the nature of genius.

Priest Jiang sighed inwardly. The same Daoist scriptures, in the hands of such a person, become golden tomes leading straight to the Great Way.

Yet for the dull-minded, perhaps they remain tomes as well—tomes without words.

Beside him, Chen Yu politely declined, saying he would return another time. He was genuinely intrigued by the Quiet Study and did not want to miss it.

Truthfully, he had already drawn little inspiration from the ten or so Daoists in the pavilion. Few practiced the Five Viscera method or were skilled in pharmacology. Philosophical discussion was possible, but endless talk became tedious—especially among those whose cultivation was not much older than his own.

By the end, it was more Priest Jiang Qinan and his friends listening to Chen Yu's tales.

Most of what he shared were his own experiences and insights.

Having repeatedly come into contact with spiritual essence and the divine liquid, he could easily satisfy them.

He no longer needed to quote Daoist classics from his past life, as he had at his first meeting with Priest Jiang.

No need to play the literary plagiarist again.

Leaving the pavilion, his belly full of tea, Chen Yu returned to his quarters. After a brief tidy-up, he headed towards the outskirts of the city.

The assembly of the Nine Marvels’ Grand Life Method was vast, requiring several zhang in area just to construct the altar. Naturally, it could not be held within Pingcheng.

Leaving the city, he saw many Daoists in square hats, traveling in groups, all heading for the mountain’s foot.

...

The first step of the grand ritual: Quiet Study.

What is Study?

To observe ritual, to purify oneself.

What is performed today is the former—ritual observance.

Within Daoist tradition, before the Offering, one must cleanse oneself and clarify the mind. Before purification and binding, one must invoke the ritual power and erect the study platform.

Chen Yu arrived at an open space. Looking up, he saw two wooden pillars nearby, adorned not with dragons or phoenixes, but covered in flowers, beasts, and birds.

Atop each pillar rested a sphere, carved from sandalwood.

One was smooth, painted red, glowing like the sun.

The other was crescent-shaped, coated in lead, resembling the moon.

The moon-bearing pillar faced the sun; the sun-bearing pillar faced the shade.

Around them, Daoists in formal attire, their hair and beards snowy white, held staffs, dusters, ritual mirrors, and other implements. Their voices rang out, their bearing not at all frail, light as birds.

In all directions stood five elders in different robes, their presence above that of ordinary folk. Chen Yu guessed these were of the generation Priest Jiang Qinan called his seniors; younger Daoists, like himself, could only watch from the sidelines, with no chance to participate.

Before long, a white-browed elder strode forward, leaping several zhang, weaving between the pillars. Suddenly, a crackling explosion resounded overhead, silencing the noise below.

A surge of force!

Chen Yu straightened, recognizing the skill—at a level he could not discern, higher than most present.

This one must be nearly eighty!

Remarkable, indeed.

As he marveled, the surrounding Daoist elders stirred, channeling energy through nose and mouth, their breaths booming like thunder.

He nearly thought himself under sonic attack.

Listening closely, he realized it was a chant:

"Supreme Three Heavens, Mysterious Origin, Three Qi True Lords, summon forth the attendants within my body, left and right officials...

...Left-hand incense bearer Golden Boy, right-hand flower-scattering Jade Girl...

May the Supreme True Dao Qi, radiant treasure light, and the sincerity of awakening swiftly reach the true, boundless Great Dao..."

Dozens, perhaps a hundred, recited together. Regardless of other aspects, the sheer momentum was grand.

Chen Yu stood quietly at the side, his spirit stirred. With each verse, it seemed as if waves of spiritual light poured forth before his eyes.

Such a sound...this trembling, like facing an ocean’s tide...this indescribable resonance...

His thoughts surged, and unconsciously, he employed his own sound-based cultivation method.

Boom—

His five viscera stirred within, but the force was nowhere near as vast and mighty as what he witnessed—rather, it was muffled and barely perceptible.

Hidden under the commotion, he fully immersed himself in the tangible surge of sound.

Vast and boundless, words could not capture it.

Within, the Daoists continued, even some younger ones joined in soft recitation. Though not as powerful as the elders, their voices blended in harmony, echoing across the open ground.

"...All begins from One, positions are formed from Three. One is the source of all things, Three connects the sequence of the Two Principles...

The Two combine in virtue, Three illuminates, governing day and night with order, turning the four seasons without violence..."

At the city gate, a few armored guards straightened, craning their necks to gaze curiously into the distance.

Even simple country folk, hearing the chant, dropped their work, knelt trembling, and bowed, crying out for the manifestation of immortal spirits.

Near the study platform, Chen Yu slowly opened his eyes.

He looked at the chanting Daoists, feeling an unanticipated affection for them, grateful for this encounter.

He too began to recite, joining the chorus.

Yet, if anyone listened closely, they would notice that Chen Yu's words carried a peculiar cadence, with a strange rhythm, inexplicably piercing the mind and heart. The longer one listened, the more his voice could shake the heart, lungs, and all five viscera...