Chapter 23: Arrival at Supreme Purity

Chapter 23: Arrival at Upper Purity

The carriage rolled on at a leisurely pace. During the day, it offered a broadening of horizons and an understanding of the human path; at night, profound teachings were imparted, nurturing the pursuit of the heavenly way.

One night, unable to restrain herself, Luo Yuan asked, “Uncle Feng, what is your true realm?”

The great supernatural power that had formed at the apex of the third gathering of energy—shattering mountains and sundering rivers with a snap of the fingers—had left an indelible impression on her.

Luo Feng smiled calmly. “I am but an ordinary acquired cultivator.”

Luo Yuan’s expression: Oh, sure. You old fox, who are you trying to fool?

Unwilling to let it go, Luo Yuan feigned tears and pleaded, “Will I ever reach your level?”

Unmoved, Luo Feng rewarded her with a light knock on the head.

The little girl retreated, straightened her posture, and sat primly, looking the picture of obedience.

With an amused chuckle, Luo Feng asked, “You have been cultivating the art of breathing, focusing on essence, energy, and spirit. Which layer have you reached now?”

Luo Yuan lifted a finger, bent slightly, to indicate nine.

Luo Feng nodded. “How many years will it take you to reach the tenth layer?”

“Three years!” she replied proudly.

“The eleventh?”

“Six years?!”

Her voice had weakened.

“The twelfth?”

“Nine years?!”

This time, her confidence was clearly lacking.

Head bowed in dejection, Luo Yuan calculated—three, six, nine—it would take her at least eighteen years to reach the twelfth layer, even if she practiced diligently every day without fail.

By then, she’d be well into her thirties—practically an old maid.

And that was the best-case scenario, assuming unwavering perseverance through endless, monotonous cultivation.

Luo Feng offered comfort. “Eighteen years is not so long. For a cultivator, life is long; you still have a chance.”

Luo Yuan’s eyes sparkled. “Really, Uncle Feng?”

He nodded. “I would not deceive you.”

After a brief pause, he added, “Go fetch my Arhat Fist Manual.”

In a flash, the girl darted to the book chest behind them and produced the manual.

Running his finger over the slightly yellowed cover, Luo Feng’s handsome features softened with a hint of gratitude. “I too once strayed from the proper path. Were it not for my cautious temperament and steady ways, ten years ago, in my reckless pursuit of breakthroughs, I might have perished from an explosion of true energy.”

“Endless sitting and breathing is not the way. The refinement of the body must keep pace.”

“True energy is like water, the body like a barrel, and the mind like the person.”

“Today, I will begin teaching you the refinement of essence.”

All traces of indolence vanished from Luo Yuan. Her fair face grew intent and focused.

“Please instruct me, Uncle Feng!”

Luo Feng nodded with satisfaction. Though mischievous at times, the girl knew her priorities—a rare quality on the path to the Great Dao.

Holding up a finger, Luo Feng asked, “What does it mean to refine essence?”

Having followed him for years and read many books, Luo Yuan answered without hesitation, “To refine essence is to circulate vital energy, forge the marrow, temper the internal organs, and create a great cycle within the body…”

Her theoretical knowledge flowed unceasingly. After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, she stopped and looked to Luo Feng for approval.

He smiled lightly. “You are not wrong, but all you’ve grasped are details, not the core.”

“Please enlighten me, Uncle Feng,” she said solemnly.

He pointed to his stomach, then his mouth, and with equal solemnity declared, “A true teaching can be summed up in a single sentence—a false one in ten thousand books. Only by grasping the source can knowledge become useful.”

“To refine essence is to refine the body. Throughout history, sages and scriptures have expounded at length.”

“In essence, two words: digestion. And one more: eat!”

…

Ordinary people eat to live but cannot perfectly digest their food, so waste is produced. Thus, their lifespans rarely cross a hundred years.

Cultivators are different. They temper their bodies and learn to master the subtlest processes, transforming every morsel into vital energy that nourishes and strengthens them.

Such individuals can live easily for centuries, remaining youthful and vigorous.

As for the intricate workings of the body and the nourishment of vital energy, much is recorded in classic medical texts and Daoist scriptures.

Thus:

The core: A true teaching in a single phrase, a false one in a thousand volumes.

The details: From ancient times, sages have valued learning—no immortal was unlettered. To embark on the path without knowledge is courting disaster; without the guidance of a true master, one is doomed to go astray.

Even Luo Feng, who first cultivated energy and only later honed his body, prepared thoroughly.

To address the dangers of abundant true energy, he once studied the texts of the Three Teachings and secular classics, and discussed physiology with learned masters. Not until Zheng Zha sent him the Arhat Fist Manual did he begin in earnest.

He pondered, practiced, and experimented for years before finally condensing the essence.

Days passed, and Luo Yuan began to touch the threshold.

…

Luo Yuan was fortunate to have a good teacher, sparing her the winding detours Luo Feng had once taken, guiding her straight to the heart of the Great Dao.

Yet her future achievements would depend on herself.

After all, even Bodhidharma, founder of Chan Buddhism, inspired few to instant enlightenment; even Zhang Sanfeng, patriarch of the Daoist tradition, saw few true successors in seven hundred years.

They journeyed for half a month, witnessing the landscapes and customs of the world, as well as its darkness and misery.

At last, they reached the Upper Purity Sect of Mount Mao.

The mountains stretched endlessly, verdant and dripping with dew. Mist drifted among the peaks, pierced here and there by sunbeams. The spiritual energy was abundant, worthy of the name “Blessed Land and Cave Heaven.”

From their vantage, they could see several Daoist temples nestled on the slopes—ancient, solemn, and majestic. This was none other than the headquarters of the famed Upper Purity Sect.

They left the carriage in the town at the foot of the mountain, paid their fare in silver, and began the ascent on foot.

The deeper they went, the thicker the mist seemed to ordinary eyes. But to cultivators, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth grew ever more concentrated—twenty times that of Yang Family Village, fifteen times that of the hills behind.

Gazing out from a high point, Luo Feng suddenly asked, “Yuanyuan, what does Mount Mao resemble to you?”

Luo Yuan, taken aback, tiptoed for a better look, then ventured, “Could it be the character ‘Ju’?”

She was uncertain—after all, she wasn’t a fengshui expert.

Luo Feng sighed, “You see well. Indeed, it is like ‘Ju’. In ancient lore, Ju Mang brings forth wood—this is a place of abundant spiritual energy, no wonder it’s a blessed land.”

“Boundless blessings upon the Heavenly Lord.”

A clear, bright Daoist invocation rang out.

A Daoist in a green robe, hair bound in a topknot, approached with a gait as light as the wind. He bowed in greeting. “You have keen eyes, honored guests. May I ask your names and sects, and what brings you to Upper Purity of Mount Mao?”

Luo Feng replied serenely, “I am a wanderer, come to visit a friend. May I ask your name, Daoist?”

“A wanderer?” The Daoist seemed puzzled. “Among known wanderers in our circle, I do not recall you.”

He recited a Daoist title. “I am Ziyuan. May I ask the name of the friend you seek?”

Luo Feng smiled. “My friend’s name is Zheng Zha. I heard he is soon to receive precepts and wanted to offer my congratulations.”

“Brother Zheng?” Ziyuan was surprised. “Why have you come to Jiuxiao Wanfu Palace instead of Yuanfu Wanning Palace?”

Luo Feng cupped his fists in apology. “My niece and I are visiting Mount Mao for the first time and were unaware of the distinction between the two halls. I beg your pardon.”

Ziyuan scrutinized them. They did not seem like troublemakers, and since they could name his junior brother, his wariness eased.

The talisman he’d been holding at the ready inside his sleeve dimmed.

Ziyuan smiled cordially. “You may not know, but Jiuxiao Wanfu Palace is for welcoming guests, worship, and ceremonies. Yuanfu Wanning Palace is the true Daoist hall of our sect.”

Luo Feng nodded in comprehension, releasing the stance of the Arhat Fist he’d been preparing. “May I trouble you to guide us, Daoist?”

Ziyuan’s smile remained. “Of course. Please, follow me.”

…

All were cultivators, so in a few minutes they reached Yuanfu Wanning Palace.

Upon entering the main hall, Ziyuan intoned, “I have duties to attend to, so I can only escort you this far. The welcoming elder is within.”

Luo Feng thanked him, and had Luo Yuan bow as well.

Ziyuan smiled kindly at the gentle and lovely Luo Yuan, his mood lightened.

Once they had entered the hall, he quietly set aside the Upper Purity bell for summoning disciples, realizing with a self-deprecating smile that he had been overly suspicious.

He turned away, a stray green hair on his robe drifting off in the wind.

It was a fine day—peaceful as always.

[Thanks to Su Mustard for the generous tip of 1000, which has added an extra update; thanks also to Baiyu Capital Hongjun Daoist, Unicom Network Card, General Zhao, and Sanhe River Flow for their gifts of 100 each. Your support is the author’s motivation.]

(End of chapter)