Chapter 684: The World is Vast, and the Grass and Trees are Green

In the winter morning, the air was cold and crisp.

The Daoist slung a cloth satchel over his shoulder, pulled it open, and said to the cat on the table, “Lady Calico, please come in. Let’s stroll around this little city, perhaps we might run into some old acquaintances.”

“What about the swallow?”

“The swallow has gone into the mountains to pay a visit to the mountain god for me.”

“Pay a visit to the mountain god!”

“We’ve come from far away. Before calling on someone here, it’s only proper to first inform the mountain god, so as not to seem discourteous.”

“

Discourtmeows

!”

“Come on in.”

“Alright!”

The cat leapt up in a single bound, turned into a streak of mottled color, and slipped into the satchel the Daoist held open. Then she poked her head out from inside.

The Daoist, meanwhile, opened the door and started down the stairs.

Halfway down, he reached over and patted the satchel.

“Mm...” The cat reluctantly drew her head back in.

The Jingfu Inn in the morning was far livelier than at night. Many people were seated in the main hall having breakfast, and not all of them guests of the inn. Most were there just to eat, and eight or nine out of ten had ordered the noodles. While eating, they chatted in low voices, some commenting on the flavor of the inn’s noodles, others discussing the rebellion that had flared up again in the east, or the ever-heavier taxes imposed by the court.

Outside, the street was also bustling with people coming and going.

“You’re up early, sir, the sun’s only just risen!” The shopkeeper happened to be weaving through the hall, and on seeing the Daoist, he greeted him with a smile. “Would you like something to eat?”

“I’ll take a walk first, then eat when I come back.”

“That’s fine. This is the liveliest time of day in the city,” the shopkeeper said with a grin. “Our little place doesn’t have many people, and things won’t stay busy for long. Once the sun gets a little higher, everyone will be gone.”

“Indeed...” With the satchel bulging, the Daoist stepped out of the inn.

Rumble...

A faint muffled sound came from above.

Many pedestrians were startled and looked up.

“Oh my...”

“How can there be lightning in winter?”

“But the sky isn’t even cloudy.”

“Strange!”

“How odd!”

The Daoist also lifted his head, gazing at the heavens.

After a moment, he lowered his gaze and continued forward, leaning on his staff, walking slowly and unhurriedly.

The bluestone-paved road was still uneven. The most conspicuous dips were along both sides of the street, parallel to the eaves of the shops and houses. There were small pits worn out over years of rainwater runoff. Elsewhere, the road was dotted with many other uneven spots, large and small, whether from the erosion of rain or the trampling of hooves and feet. They were all the marks of time’s wearing.

The cat poked her head out again. First she tilted her head back to curiously look at the sky, then lowered it to gaze at the familiar street. For a moment, she seemed to see a young girl in a three-colored outfit walking backward along this very road, and falling with a tumble.

Rumble...

With a flick, the cat looked skyward again. The Daoist’s pace did not change.

The bamboo staff in his hand tapped lightly against the stone slabs, and as he walked, the satchel swayed, making the cat inside sway with it. Her eyes, like glassy lakes, reflected the clouds blanketing the sky.

Only when the Daoist turned into a relatively quiet alley, the bustle of the market quickly fading behind them, did she speak up:

“There’s lightning in the sky!”

“Pay it no mind.”

“It’s not lightning!”

“How do you know?”

“Lightning doesn’t come in winter, and it doesn’t come on a clear day,” the cat said. “Besides, it feels strange... a little scary.”

“Lady Calico, you’re extraordinarily wise.”

“So I guessed right,

meow

? Then what is it?”

“It’s a good thing.”

“A good thing?”

Before the Daoist could answer, another rumbling rolled across the sky. Deep, deafening, like war chariots passing overhead.

Between heaven and earth, a certain momentum was building. It was something like an oppressive force. Ordinary people could not sense it; they only thought it odd to hear winter thunder under a sunny sky. But anyone extraordinary and detached from the mundane would feel a sense of dread and pressure. For sharp-sensed spirits, demons, ghosts, earth gods, cultivators or those who had committed evil in the past, it might even become hard to breathe.

This could barely be called a “good thing.”

Now that the five paths to heaven had been fully restored, Song You’s rightful obligations were fulfilled. Yet half of the godless deities and the opposition from the heavens still remained, and Song You had been planning to depose them.

Normally, to depose a god, one would have to choose a time, make a special trip to a temple or shrine, think of a proper pretext, and gain approval from the human court before provoking them, only then might the gods become enraged enough to descend, or he would have to take the fight to their doorstep. All in all, it was a tedious affair.

Now that they had struck first, coming to him of their own accord, it spared him all that trouble.

Of course, there was a downside.

The Four Saints of the Four Directions and the Celestial Emperor of the Heavenly Palace had taken the initiative to act, seeking to seize the advantage, and indeed, they had.

As for the rolling lightning overhead, one could call it lightning, yet also not. It was both the battle challenge issued by the Four Saints to the Daoist, urging him to meet them quickly, and an act of divine etiquette. After all, the heartlands of Great Yan were dotted everywhere with villages and farming households, and there was a county seat every few dozen

li

.

Gods who did nothing to aid the people were already unworthy of the title; if they also fought recklessly in the mortal realm, one could hardly call them anything but demons. At the same time, the sound was also a natural phenomenon, a sign of many mighty ancient gods from the Heavenly Palace descending to the mortal world all at once.

The Daoist paid it no heed and kept walking.

Passing through the quiet alley, the other end opened into liveliness again, and the sound of people reached their ears once more.

But this street was not one of the city’s main thoroughfares, and there weren’t so many small vendors and peddlers, making it relatively quieter.

The Daoist continued his leisurely stroll until around noon, when he came upon a familiar street.

By now, more than half the people on the street had gone. Those from outside the city had already left for home, and those who lived in the city were busy with their midday meal. In just the space of one hour, the place had gone from bustling to quiet.

Flutter, flutter, flutter...

A swallow flew down from the sky.

It was a bird that shouldn’t even be around in this season, yet it perched on the eaves by the roadside, looked down at the Daoist, glanced left and right, and softly said, “Sir, the mountain god invites you to the mountains for a reunion.”

“Understood.” The Daoist’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“In three days’ time.”

“Understood.” But the Daoist was looking ahead.

The swallow’s view was wide, and though it didn’t turn its head, it too noticed some movement ahead. At once, it closed its beak, went still, and imitating Lady Calico, it pretended to be just a regular bird.

Only when the occasional rumble of thunder came from the sky did it lift its head slightly to glance upward.

Unlike Lady Calico, it knew very well what that thunder meant, what would happen next, which gods from the Heavenly Palace had descended, and why the master had sent it to visit the mountain god.

The Mountain God of Pingzhou was widely known, and his discord with the Heavenly Palace deities had gone on for ages. On the one hand, he was an innate god, powerful beyond measure, walking a path entirely different from the incense-fed gods of the Heavenly Palace, and thus naturally feared by them. On the other hand, he had a fiery temper and would never bow his head in submission. It had been that way for centuries.

In the last decade or two, after the northern great demon unrest was quelled but before the master began restoring the paths to heaven, the Heavenly Palace had already considered descending to suppress him.

As an innate god, the Mountain God of Pingzhou was no weaker than Lord Huoyang within his hundreds of

li

of barren mountains, which made Pingzhou’s wilderness a perfect battlefield.

Now that the heavenly pressure was already manifest, the Mountain God could not possibly be unaware of what it meant. Yet he still issued an invitation for the master to enter his domain, and this alone showed he realized it was an excellent opportunity for both him and the master.

So thought the swallow, its heart growing heavy. It then lowered its gaze from the sky and was taken aback.

What was Mr. Song doing? Mr. Song stood still, unmoving, gazing straight ahead.

Following his line of sight, the swallow saw a child of four or five at the end of the street. The child was bundled up like a little round ball, in dirty black-gray clothes, holding a string in his hand. At the other end of the string was a delicate copper dove cart. The child tugged on the string, pulling the golden-bright dove cart along the ground, sometimes running a few steps and laughing, then turning back to look, as if he were truly walking a real bird.

Before long, more footsteps came from behind.

It was a middle-aged man in a winter robe, smiling broadly as he took the child’s hand and led him away. The lightning rumbling in the sky startled neither of them, nor the Daoist.

It was truly a lovely scene. The Daoist watched intently, and a faint smile formed on his lips.

Nearby hung a small flag with the words

Li Family Cloth Shop

, and from within the courtyard came the faint aroma of food.

“That person looks familiar,” came the quiet voice of the calico cat from the satchel at his waist.

“Yes...”

“Daoist priest, aren’t you hungry?”

“Let’s head back, then.”

“Alright!” The Daoist finally turned around and started walking toward the inn.

Flutter, flutter, flutter...

The swallow followed behind.

About a quarter of an hour later, they were in a lane not far from the inn. It was lined mostly with modest houses; a few had their doors open, displaying rows of earthen jars filled with various pickled vegetables. Some people had even set up small stalls along the roadside.

The Daoist slowed his pace and stopped before an elderly woman.

“Madam, how much for your pickles?”

“...?”

The woman lifted her head slightly and stared at him, momentarily stunned.

First, surprise flickered in her eyes, then a look of recollection, and finally shock, as she took in the Daoist from head to toe.

“You...”

“It’s been a long time,” the Daoist said, his tone warm and gentle.

“I never thought I’d see you again, sir!”

“How have you been all these years?”

“Thanks to you, much freer than before.”

"Since we parted back then, I’ve never forgotten the taste of the pickled cauliflower I once had here,” the Daoist said, without touching on anything else. He simply took a small pouch of coins from his satchel. “By chance I learned there was still a chance to taste it again, so I came to visit an old friend. I’d like to buy some.”

At almost the same moment, the cat poked her head out from the satchel, staring intently at the woman before them.

“It’s just some pickles, how could we accept money from a Daoist who’s done us such a kindness?” the woman said, shaking her head. “It’s only that this season there’s no cauliflower. Please, Daoist, try Southern Art County’s more famous pickled bamboo shoots instead.”

“You’ve also done us a kindness.”

“That won’t do, that won’t do...”

“Then just pack me a small amount.”

“...”

The woman said no more, only took out a bamboo tube and filled it with a generous portion.

The Daoist bowed and thanked her, then left.

Neither mentioned the events of those years past; everything was understood without words, their gratitude and thanks left unspoken in mutual accord.

Back at the inn, he ordered two bowls of noodle soup and renewed the room for two more days.

The noodle soup was soon brought in, and the Daoist also took out the bamboo shoots. The noodles were again divided into two portions.

The bamboo shoots were sliced into long strips, still carrying a little brine. Their smell was slightly odd, but in the mouth they were crisp, faintly sour, and would surely pair perfectly with congee.

Though he hadn’t gotten the pickled cauliflower he’d been longing for, the craft of the nuns in the monastery all those years ago had not faded; the flavor of these bamboo shoots was no less than that of the cauliflower.

The Daoist smiled again and seemed to truly savor it.

As for the faint rumble of thunder overhead, and the meaning behind it, those had become trivial matters. He was simply enjoying the moment, content with small, simple joys.

The swallow, watching from the side, suddenly thought of a saying, “

One who has already grasped the vastness of heaven and earth, yet still cherishes the green of grass and trees.”

***

In ancient times, when cultivation flourished, the harm Great Beings could bring to the world was not forgotten. And so, in this present age, reaching the realm of those ancient powers is all but impossible. Most of the great ones who have survived since those times remain hidden in the Heavenly Palace, rarely descending to the mortal world, and when they do, seldom gathering together.

Now that several such powers had descended at once, it naturally stirred phenomena across heaven and earth.

Such phenomena now gathered mostly over Southern Art County, but in truth their effects reached far and wide; those with keen spiritual senses could detect them even from thousands of li away, much like last year’s ringing of the Four Seasons Bell. When the Four Seasons Bell rang, the whole world knew.

This time was not much different.

When Ancient Great Beings descended to the mortal realm together, even heaven and earth struggled to contain them, how could cultivators walking the great path, or spirits, demons, and ghosts, fail to notice?

***

A thousand li off the coast of Langzhou...

Since the death of the so-called “Sea Dragon King,” life for the two great white-rhinoceros demons had grown much easier.

Though the overseas lands lacked the spiritual richness of Shenzhou, and were wild, inhospitable places ill-suited to the white-rhinoceros race, and though they longed in their hearts for their homeland, the faith of fishermen and maritime traders could still make up for part of that loss.

Even so, over the years, they often recalled the Daoist’s words.

if you sense a major shift in the land of Shenzhou and are willing, you may return and assist me when the time comes. If you’re unwilling, then wait patiently for a while longer. When the time is right, quietly return to investigate. If the Heavenly Court has majorly changed by then, you can go back freely

.[1]

Last year, when that bell rang, heaven and earth alike knew.

The two white rhinoceros had sent dreams to their followers in Langzhou and Yang Prefecture, asking them to investigate, and had even quietly slipped back into inland waters to uncover the cause. They more or less understood what had happened, and wished to lend their aid, but by then the immortal master had already triumphed in his battle against the Ancient God of Heavenly Bell, so they gave up the thought.

Though the immortal master had never directly asked for their help, they owed him an immense favor, and in that favor was wrapped the hope of returning to Shenzhou. The two great white-rhinoceros demons remained impatient.

And now, they heard the distant roll of heavenly thunder.

𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

“...”

The two demons exchanged a glance, then, without hesitation, plunged into the sea, slipping into the Yin River, and from there began swimming upstream.

***

Outside Changjing City, on Mount Beiqin...

Frost had just formed in the mountains, and mist rose from the lake. An old man sat fishing quietly by the shore. The distant thunder did not disturb him; only after a long while did he slowly reel in his line, stand, and gaze toward the south, toward the direction of Pingzhou.

“

Sigh...

”

Over two hundred years ago, he had followed the Daoist Fuyang to slay gods and subdue demons. Who would have thought that after so long, he would have to move again?

Unknowingly, he had become nothing but old bones. He let out a long sigh.

Boom!

With an earth-shaking crash, a white serpent as large as a mountain revealed its true form, smashing through the snow-laden forest. No sooner had it appeared than it sped through the mountains, skirting towns and villages, racing swiftly southward along the wild peaks.

Everything in its path was swept aside with ease.

Any woodcutter or mountain spirit who caught sight of it by chance was, without exception, utterly terrified.

1. This is referring to what Song You said in Chapter 430. ☜