Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Living Dead Tomb, Zhenwu Inheritor

Two days ago, when Po Jie first met Zhang Fan, he immediately sensed the chaotic breath about him, tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind like tangled threads in a gale, burdened by worldly pressures and deeply mired in suffering, just like most ordinary people.

Yet in the span of just two days, he had managed to subdue the Heart Monkey, tether the Yima, restrain the Consciousness, even glimpse the Primordial Spirit, and survive the Dragon and Snake Transformation, attaining the cultivation rank of a Qi Worker.

”How is this possible?” Po Jie’s expression was full of suspicion and surprise as he scrutinized Zhang Fan up and down, unable to stop himself from asking, ”Layman, who is your master?”

”Master? I don’t have a master... I just looked things up online and practiced blindly. Even got scammed out of over 800 yuan...” Zhang Fan started to ramble, while in his mind, the image of Jiang Lai surfaced.

Strictly speaking, he truly didn’t have a master for guidance, but thanks to Jiang Lai, he had swallowed a portion of the moonlight essence of the serpent, which saved him much effort.

”Self-taught!?” The suspicion on Po Jie’s face deepened, his emotions turning all the more intense.

”Senior brother, your Consciousness is agitated.”

Beside them, Wu You and Wu Wei felt the shift in Po Jie’s demeanor and exchanged a glance.

”Just two days, and he’s leapt straight past the Initial Movement, attaining Qi Worker? How is this possible?” Po Jie’s eyes were wide as he fixed his gaze unblinkingly on Zhang Fan.

He had once heard the elders in the sect say: Embrace One is the universal method; if you can seek within while embracing the One, you may attain the natural great Dao.

The Buddhist Sect says that innate fulfillment is natural; the Confucian Family argues, ’My nature is sufficient, nothing outside is required.’

Some people, by reflecting inward on themselves and working alone behind closed doors, can advance by leaps and bounds.

During the Ming Dynasty, there was a Great Confucian Scholar who achieved enlightenment at Longchang, becoming a sage in a single leap; overnight, he entered the Pure Yang Wuji Realm, making his name known for centuries after.

In Po Jie’s eyes, if Zhang Fan was truly self-taught, while not equal to that Great Confucian Scholar, he was still a rare, naturally gifted candidate for the path of cultivation.

”Layman, tonight there are important events on Zhenwu Mountain. You shouldn’t be here. I’ll have someone escort you out first.”

Po Jie steadied his mind before speaking.

Tonight is the Jade Scroll Transmission ceremony—he knew well what mattered more.

”Someone is trying to kill me...” Zhang Fan hurried to speak, reciting his earlier ordeal.

”Bugs? Could it be the Dian Nan Qian Family?” Po Jie mused, then said, ”Wu You, Wu Wei, take some people and have a look outside...”

”But he...” Fat Daoist Wu Wei couldn’t help glancing at Zhang Fan.

”No matter. He’s no ordinary man. There’s no need to worry too much,” Po Jie waved dismissively.

The Jade Scroll Transmission tonight was no trivial matter; the Ancestral Master had left a verse: ”Zhenwu passes down seventy-three, after the Ordinary Tribulation, ginseng there shall be.”

Zhenwu Mountain had reached the seventy-third generation; the elders suspected the Zhenwu Dharma Lineage would, because of one ordinary person, come to its end here.

Because of this, everyone on Zhenwu Mountain was exceedingly cautious toward any mortals entering the mountain.

”That’s true,” Wu You and Wu Wei exchanged a look, finally relaxing.

It’s not frightening if you have cultivation—what’s frightening is if you’re a mere mortal.

”We’ll go now.”

With that, the fat and thin Daoists hurried off toward the front courtyard.

”You, come with me.”

Po Jie took a long look at Zhang Fan before turning to lead him toward the side hall.

Dong... Dong... Dong...

Just then, a series of ancient, lingering bell chimes rang out from the main hall of Qingwei Palace. Wisps of incense smoke twined upward, and flickering flames lit up the hall in brilliance.

”There are still rituals this late?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help but ask.

Walking ahead, Po Jie did not respond.

”Hmm!?”

Suddenly, Zhang Fan’s brows drew together; in the dim corner of the palace, he saw row upon row of figures seated cross-legged. By the faint light, he noticed the thick stone shells enveloping their bodies, as if dust had accreted for years. The muscles of their faces had long since withered, all moisture drained away, their skin shriveled to the texture of parchment... Seen from afar, they looked like strips of dried cured meat.

”D—Daoist Po Jie... what are those?” Zhang Fan stared, creeped out, instinctively quickening his pace, unable to stifle his question.

”Living Dead.”

”Living Dead?” Zhang Fan was puzzled.

”Those who pursue longevity are tormented by their Consciousness all their lives. Only upon reaching the Pure Yang Wuji Realm and refining away the shadows within spirit can one truly achieve a state where one thought returns to truth—no stray thoughts arise, wherever and whenever...”

”Otherwise, even sleeping brings surging thoughts, brings dreams, brings wild imaginings...” Daoist Po Jie said blandly.

Zhang Fan pondered: whether Daoist Sect, Buddhist Sect, or even Confucian Sect, all emphasize meditation and silence; true cultivation begins only when the mind is so still it reaches the Void Extreme and not a thought stirs.

Yet, as long as one is human, one is subject to the Consciousness, entangled by the seven emotions, adrift in the six desires. Even a Celestial Master can be emotionally moved, angered by circumstance, wounded at heart, caught in attachment...

”Only the dead can truly sever all thoughts... But if dead, what’s the point of cultivating for immortality or refining the Dao?” Daoist Po Jie’s voice was deep.

”All those are seniors of Zhenwu Mountain... The Living Dead is a most peculiar cultivation method within the Daoist Sect: neither fully alive nor fully dead, all thoughts extinguished. If one can die and be reborn, one can ascend further, glimpsing the Pure Yang Wuji Realm.”

In fact, in the Buddhist Sect there’s a similar practice called Withered Zen: when all is withered and all revived, subtle truths emerge.

”You’ve read wuxia novels, right? Wang Chongyang was unmatched across the land, and had a tomb at the foot of Zhongnan Mountain—the Living Dead Tomb...”

”Wang Chongyang was a great master of the Alchemy Dao...”

”The three words ’Living Dead’ reveal the very secret of Daoist cultivation: if you can be born, die, and with one thought return to truth... the Dao is then attained...”

At this, Po Jie could not help but sigh: ”It’s just a pity that, since ancient times, those who’ve succeeded by this method are no more than can fit on two hands.”

”So few succeed? Then why do they...” Zhang Fan didn’t finish—this, to him, seemed no different from suicide.

”The path of cultivation is long and arduous; those like us must have hearts like moths to flame, striving for the light, dying without regret—only then...”

”Heaven and all spirits are vast; our Dao shall ever thrive.”

While speaking, Po Jie stopped, bowing deeply toward those seniors resembling wind-dried meat strips, his eyes full of reverence.

”Like moths to the flame... Is this what cultivation means?” Zhang Fan murmured, lost in thought.

Refining longevity, refining longevity—how many through the ages have sought immortality, and how many have truly found it!?

”Celestial spirit, earth spirit, lose five more pounds, manifestation, manifestation...”

At this moment, a clear, melodious voice echoed down from the tall building in the distance.

”Senior Sister Weisheng, you’re a High Skill, but you can’t just make up secret curses like that. The Ancestral Master will be angry.”

At the same time, a helpless voice followed.

”She’s at it again.”

Po Jie looked in the direction of the voices, rubbing his temples as if a headache was splitting his head.

”Senior Brother Po Jie, today is my great day—you brought in a... person?”

Just then, a wild gust howled, and Zhang Fan’s eyes sharpened, realizing the clear, melodic voice was coming from right behind him.

He instinctively glanced toward the distant tall building, then turned to find a brilliant young woman standing on the railing behind him, looking down from above, fixing her gaze on him...

The young woman had almond-shaped, bright eyes; twin pupils as limpid as water. Her tall, slender form was poised, long hair tied in a ponytail draping across her back, a Daoist Robe snapping in the wind, radiating heroic vigor.

”Dragon and Snake Transformation... and even absorbed moonlight essence...”

The young woman wore a half-smile, cunning light glittering fox-like in her bright eyes. She leaned down, coming close to Zhang Fan, her delicate nose twitching. With just one sentence, she made Zhang Fan’s expression change.

”Moonlight essence?”

Po Jie was thoughtful, shooting Zhang Fan a deep look before saying, ”Junior Sister, tonight is the Jade Scroll Transmission; you should be in Zhenwu Hall...”

Saying this, Po Jie glanced at Zhang Fan, introducing him in passing.

”Her name is...”

”Xia Weisheng!”

The young woman, called Senior Sister, placed her hands on her hips, full of heroic spirit as she stood on the railing, her voice clear and steady.

Po Jie paused before adding,

”She is the Zhenwu Mountain inheritor of this generation.”