Chapter Thirty-Two: Master of the Clouded Mirror

The following morning dawned quiet, with an unusual stillness settling over Mingyuan Daoist Temple.

Qingyuan finished his cultivation, opening his eyes. He had spent the night stabilizing the surge of true energy gained the day before, and now it was much steadier. Rising, he tidied himself before opening the door to his room.

Outside in the courtyard, the mountain sprite was practicing with a blade. Cloaked in black robes, every movement was swift and fierce, sometimes grand and imposing, stirring up clouds of dust. Anyone watching would think him a master of the blade, seasoned by years of martial practice.

“This Gu Cang is remarkably gifted, and diligent as well,” Qingyuan nodded in appreciation. Generally, spirits tended toward laziness, but Gu Cang was different. Though a spirit, he was descended from celestial blood—born amidst mountains teeming with ferocious beasts. It was said that many spirits, cunning and sly, would tremble at the roar of tigers or wolves, unable to resist their fear, and would often become prey. Gu Cang was not so pitiable, but he understood the law of the jungle, motivating him to train hard in defensive arts.

“Master,” Gu Cang sheathed his blade and looked at Qingyuan, bowing as he had seen the master do when greeting Elder Ge and Mr. Yun Jing.

Qingyuan smiled, “You learn both the blade and etiquette quickly.”

Gu Cang scratched his head and chuckled deeply.

“Continue your practice,” Qingyuan nodded, stepping out of the courtyard.

At the front gate, brothers Qi Ming and Qi Yuan were carrying buckets of water inside. The upheaval at the well the previous day had been a harrowing experience for them.

Qingyuan saw in their eyes a hint of the relief of survivors. Approaching, he greeted them, “You two have worked hard.”

Seeing Qingyuan, Qi Yuan immediately set down his yoke and bowed, “Greetings, Master Qingyuan.”

Qingyuan glanced at the two buckets of clear water and smiled, “We’re guests in the temple, troubling you not only with our presence but also with daily chores. It is thanks to your thoughtful care. We’ve done so little in return—it’s embarrassing.”

He lowered his head, drew out a few taels of silver from his robe, and offered them, “Just a small token, hardly compensation. Please don’t mind…”

“No, no, we can’t accept…” Qi Yuan quickly declined, shaking his head, “Guests must be received properly. As for food and water, it’s nothing at all. Besides…”

He meant to say that yesterday’s incident had nearly caused disaster, and if anything had happened, it would have been the guests who suffered. But the monster in the well could not be mentioned, so he changed direction, “Besides, the master often says that fate is important. Though the term is Buddhist, it’s not without reason. You’re a friend of Mr. Yun Jing and now our guest—this is fate. How could we accept this gold and silver?”

Qi Ming was tempted by the silver, but at these words, he nodded in agreement, “Exactly, we live in seclusion, avoiding the world. Why care for worldly money?”

He lowered his head, muttering, “I never leave the mountain, so even if I had silver, there’s nowhere to spend it… what use is it…”

Qi Yuan glared at him fiercely, then looked apologetically at Qingyuan.

Qingyuan found their innocence endearing and smiled gently.

After these courtesies, Qi Yuan shouldered the buckets, ready to head inside.

Qingyuan suddenly remembered the maps he had copied yesterday and called out, “Wait, Daoist Qi Yuan—I have something to ask…”

Qi Yuan set down the buckets and smiled, “I dare not say ‘teach.’ Please ask.”

It was from Qi Yuan that Qingyuan had previously learned in detail about the Zhao, Qian, and Bai families of Yuanjing City—their influence, characteristics, and members.

Qingyuan took out a map and handed it to Qi Yuan, “I’ve acquired several maps recently, but I can’t make out the terrain or location. Do you recognize it?”

Qi Yuan, just having carried water, worried for the paper, so he wiped his hands before accepting the map and studied it for a while, finally shaking his head with an embarrassed smile, “I don’t recognize it.”

Qi Ming, curious, came to look as well, but having never left the mountain, he was utterly lost.

Qingyuan retrieved the map and passed the others one by one.

Qi Yuan examined them all, but none were familiar.

Qingyuan hesitated, “Though you seldom leave the mountain, your master often travels. Perhaps he has left travel notes? Or have you learned anything from him?”

Qi Yuan shook his head apologetically, “The master does keep journals, but they are not shown to others.”

Qingyuan, hearing this, apologized, “That was presumptuous of me, please forgive my indiscretion.”

“Not at all…” Qi Yuan smiled and shook his head lightly, unconcerned. Suddenly, he paused, “Since you are acquainted with Mr. Yun Jing, why not ask him?”

Qingyuan was surprised, “Mr. Yun Jing?”

Qi Yuan nodded, “Mr. Yun Jing is no mere bookworm. They say reading ten thousand books is like walking ten thousand miles, but many only read without ever traveling. Yun Jing is different. He wanders far and wide, traversing famous mountains and rivers, wild and remote places, bustling cities and quiet villages—he is truly knowledgeable. Not like those scholars who sit in a room for ten years without stepping outside.”

Qingyuan replied, “Mr. Yun Jing is indeed remarkable.”

“Yes, though a gentle scholar, he is fearless,” Qi Yuan smiled. “The master once said Yun Jing encountered a tiger in the mountains and persuaded it to let him go with reason alone, leaving the mountain unharmed.”

Qingyuan recalled the aura that had suppressed the well monster yesterday and found it entirely believable.

“The master says Yun Jing, though unversed in divine arts, understands the principles deeply, his attainments unfathomable. In the words of cultivators, he’s truly advanced—but lacks the methods to harness his cultivation. Such scholars, seeing the Dao as profound, often dismiss magical arts as trivial, and even if they had the method, would likely not study it.”

Qingyuan thought of many reclusive sages, skilled in cultivation but not magic, or monks devoted to Buddhist studies without supernatural practice, and scholars like Yun Jing in legend. He nodded, “Such people are worthy of respect.”

“Indeed, the master greatly respects Mr. Yun Jing,” Qi Yuan continued, “He once said… though Yun Jing is a gentle scholar, his learning is vast. He knows astronomy and geography, understands the truths of the real, recognizes the Six Armies and winds, distinguishes the Three Lights and Five Qi, and is versed in all the schools and teachings…”

His tone was reverent, especially after yesterday’s events, showing even greater respect, “If you ask Mr. Yun Jing, you will surely find answers.”

Qingyuan nodded, “Thank you for your guidance, Daoist Qi Yuan.”

“No need for thanks,” Qi Yuan smiled, shouldering the buckets, “I must continue my duties, forgive me for not keeping you company…”

With that, he and Qi Ming exchanged a word and walked inside one after the other.

Qingyuan stepped aside, smiling.