Chapter 32: The Gods Are Watching From Above
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As the New Moon Talismans were being handed out, a Daoist priest in the distance suddenly hurried away, supporting an elderly Daoist master. The old master seemed even more anxious.
Behind them, a middle-aged priest called softly,
“Uncle-Master, slow down, slow down…”
The young Daoist muttered behind them, “Wasn’t it said that the abbot had trouble with his legs?”
Mutter though he did, he still hurried after them. When they reached the long steps, the young Daoist supported the old abbot by the arm, taking care that he would not stumble against the stairs.
The old abbot went all the way to the temple gate, glanced left and right several times, then headed east and stopped before a fortune-teller’s stall.
The young Daoist and the middle-aged priest had no idea what the old abbot meant by this. Could it be that the stall was a disgrace, cheating pilgrims and lay worshippers of their money every day, and that he had come to drive it away?
But the stall had been set up at the temple gate for more than a decade. Surely the old abbot had not hurried over merely to make trouble for it…
“Uncle-Master?”
“Abbot?”
The two of them watched as the old abbot face the man waiting to have his fortune told, clasp his hands in the Meridian Mudra, and offer a formal salute.
“The Mountain Lord has arrived.”
The man turned around. He looked to be in his thirties, with thick black hair. He was far taller than an ordinary man, so tall that one had to tilt one’s head back to see his face. His arms were extraordinarily long, making him look almost like an ape.
The man inclined his head. “Abbot.”
The old abbot asked respectfully, “When did the Mountain Lord arrive?”
“Not long ago.”
The man hurriedly took the fortune slip from the stallkeeper, tucked it into his robe, and tossed down a small gold nugget that looked as if it had been snapped off with great force.
“Pick out the best sachet you have for me… No, never mind. Give me one of each.”
Then he noticed that the old abbot was still standing before him.
He waved a hand. “There is no need for such courtesy, Abbot. I merely sensed something unusual and came to have a look.”
With that, he strode past the priests, ignoring the fortune-teller, who had understood little of what was said, and headed straight into the temple. His steps were long and swift, as though he were in a great hurry.
The two Daoists had heard the exchange.
At the words “Mountain Lord,” the middle-aged priest froze. Then he looked at the man’s manner and bearing: utterly uninhibited, completely unconcerned with Pure Void Monastery.
Their abbot was now eighty-two. The villagers below the mountain still regarded him as an immortal sage. Even the county magistrate and the governor of Xiangzhou treated him with courtesy whenever they met him.
This was exceedingly strange…
He dared not think too deeply about it.
The young Daoist beside him grew curious and asked in a small voice, “Abbot, who was that man?”
On the way back, the old abbot was no longer in such a hurry. His frantic rush had left his legs aching, so he simply stood where he was and rested.
Once he had steadied his breath, the abbot said, “On what mountain is our Pure Void Monastery located?”
“Blackstone Mountain.”
“Precisely.”
The young Daoist had not yet grasped the meaning of this and was still bewildered when the middle-aged priest asked,
“That man is the lord of Blackstone Ridge?”
The old abbot stroked his beard without replying.
The two younger priests understood.
The young Daoist asked, “Why has the Mountain Lord come to our Pure Void Monastery? He said he sensed something unusual. Could it be that an ancestral master has descended during the ritual?”
The old abbot could not say for certain.
He was advanced in years. In the past, he had heard from the previous generation about the origins of this Mountain Lord, who possessed considerable attainments. That was why he was especially cautious.
It was also why he had hurried over.
He said, “Whatever the Mountain Lord seeks, it must be within the monastery. We will know as soon as we look.”
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The young Daoist muttered to himself again, so softly that barely anyone could hear him. “I heard that many of these lords of the mountains, rivers, and marshes are born from strange beasts or spirits. I wonder what our Mountain Lord of Blackstone Mountain is. He looks rather like…”
The old Daoist struck him heavily with his cane.
“Mind your tongue!”
After a pause, he added, “There are divine eyes watching from three feet above your head…”
The young Daoist shuddered. A sudden fear seized him. The Mountain Lord was still inside the temple, yet he had been speculating so freely about the man’s true nature. Fortunately, he had not finished speaking. Otherwise, he would have been terribly disrespectful—and would have made a grave enemy.
The fortune-teller, who had overheard fragments of their conversation, was left in a fog of confusion and could not help asking,
“Daoist priest, what is this Mountain Lord you speak of? Does the mountain belong to him?”
The old abbot smiled and left the stallkeeper to puzzle it out for himself. Then he asked kindly, “What sort of fortune did that man draw just now?”
“I don’t remember. I only recall that it was an auspicious one, and that Mountain Lord looked delighted. No wonder he’s from a wealthy family—he certainly spends generously!”
The stallkeeper cheerfully picked up the small gold nugget, examined it from side to side, wiped it with his sleeve, and bit into it.
Why, it was soft.
It was real gold.
The mountain spirit, born as an ape-like demon and transformed into human form, passed through the crowd of pilgrims. He saw the man standing in an inconspicuous spot, listening to the scholars nearby and watching the temple boys distribute talismans.
“Immor—Sir!”
Jiang She raised his head. “The Mountain Lord has arrived.”
The mountain spirit bowed. “I sensed that you were here, Sir, and came especially to pay my respects.”
“You are too courteous, Mountain Lord.”
Seeing that Jiang She had no intention of driving him away, the mountain spirit felt immensely pleased. That auspicious fortune had indeed spoken true. Was this not precisely the fate he had hoped for with the immortal?
The two of them walked a little farther away.
The mountain spirit said respectfully, “I know these mountains well. I watched the Daoists of Pure Void Monastery grow from childhood into old age.”
“When the talismans have all been distributed, may I accompany you for a stroll?”
Jiang She agreed, and the mountain spirit continued of his own accord, “Pure Void Monastery has quite a history. The current abbot also has some connection with the Deer God. Without the Mountain God, he probably would not have survived past the age of four or five.”
“Oh?”
The mountain spirit searched his memory.
“That abbot showed a talent for the Dao from birth. His third eye was open the moment he was born. You can imagine it: a young child, ignorant and innocent, assuming that ghosts, spirits, and all manner of strange things were simply part of the natural world. He would even babble away at the ghost in his household, frightening his wet nurse half to death.”
“Once he learned to speak, his family became even more convinced that something was wrong with him. Their attempts to exorcise the spirits were useless, which only deepened their fear. Then another child was born into the family, and they paid little attention to the elder one.”
“It was only around the age of four or five that he realized seeing ghosts was not normal. As he began to understand the world, fear took root in his heart.”
“Once he began reading and learning characters, his entire world was turned upside down.”
“Later, the Deer Mountain God heard of his plight and took pity on the child. He sealed away the child’s third eye and had someone send him to the monastery to be raised. That was nearly eighty years ago.”
The mountain spirit sighed.
“And now he is nearing death.”
Pure Void Monastery was prosperous, with incense burning in abundance and nearly a hundred priests and temple boys. Its flourishing community showed that the old abbot had served it well. Within the temple grounds stood a sturdy old ginkgo tree, at least a century old, its lush green canopy offering shade to all.
Jiang She seemed to see a very young child: seeing him come into the world, seeing his parents reject him, seeing him grow up in the Daoist monastery.
Now he heard that the child had grown old and was nearing death.
“When a person is first born, he is utterly without fear,” Jiang She said pensively. “The older he grows, the more deeply he understands the world, and the more terrifying it becomes. Things once dismissed as idle talk, things to which he paid no attention, gradually become sources of worry and fear.”
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“People who cultivate the Dao, spirits, ghosts, and gods are all the same.”
“It is rare to transcend the world.”
“That is why it is said that the clever are burdened by their cleverness, and the wise are troubled by their wisdom. Those without ability have nothing to seek; they eat their fill and wander freely, drifting like an untethered boat. What a person seeks in life does not lie in the profundity of his cultivation or the height of his attainments. It lies in two words: freedom and spontaneity.”
The mountain spirit savored these words.
“Humans have their anxieties and fears. Ghosts and gods have them too.”
“The Mountain Lord understands.”
The mountain spirit gazed at the immortal standing beneath the covered walkway, bathed in sunlight and almost blending into the light itself, at ease and utterly free.
He could not help thinking:
To speak and laugh so calmly, to wander and play amid the mortal world—this must be what true freedom is.
While they were speaking, a temple boy came over from that direction. There were fewer and fewer talismans left in his small bamboo basket, and he was nearly upon them.
Jiang She accepted one.
This was a New Moon Talisman. It could ward off taboos and expel evil, pray for blessings and longevity, and protect a household while calming the spirit. The new moon was the first day of each month, when Heaven and Earth reached harmony and the ghosts and gods recorded the good and evil of every person. Daoists were expected to fast and maintain focused contemplation.
Jiang She examined the talisman.
It had been drawn in cinnabar by the priests of the monastery. Against troublesome evil spirits, or demons and ghosts of shallow cultivation that had not yet awakened their intelligence, it would be enough to make them keep their distance. For driving away evil, it was more than adequate.
Not far away, the scholars were still discussing the spirits and demons of the mountain with great enthusiasm.
Their faces were filled with yearning. They wished they themselves had attended a nocturnal banquet with immortals; they wished they themselves had slain demons that night, laughing and speaking as though nothing were amiss.
Stories changed as they passed from mouth to mouth. Many people added embellishments, mixing in their own half-true, half-false opinions, until the tale grew ever more wondrous.
Dai Xi imagined aloud, “I wonder what that fox spirit on the mountain looked like. Was her waist slender? Eating human hearts and livers—what a wicked woman.”
The scholar surnamed Wang burst out laughing. “I heard there was more than one tiger in the mountains. Strange, though—if the tiger truly died, how could its roar still be heard?”
“There must have been more than those two demons at the gathering that night.”
“Creatures that harm people should be exterminated as quickly as possible!”
They were deep in conversation. Wang Zishen casually stuffed the talisman given to him by the temple boy into his sleeve, where it fell to the ground. He did not care in the least and made no move to pick it up.
…
…
Jiang She heard every word and glanced at the mountain spirit beside him, who had himself once been an ape-demon.
The mountain spirit had naturally heard them as well.
He looked toward the scholars and narrowed his eyes, studying their faces. They were scholars dressed in long gowns, carrying a trace of literary refinement about them. Yet the more they spoke, the more clearly a faint black aura began to appear above their brows.
Toward these mortals, the mountain spirit said indifferently,
“Disaster comes from the mouth. Sooner or later, they will understand that.”
As the two spoke, a commotion arose ahead. The old abbot, supported by others, came toward them. He walked all the way to their side, his body bent with age. On seeing the mountain spirit, he raised his hand in greeting.
Then he turned his gaze toward Jiang She, unable to determine what sort of person stood beside the Mountain Lord.
“This gentleman is…”
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