Chapter Forty-Four: Tumbling Gourd

On the mountain path, a group of people hurried along, each bearing signs of distress and disarray. These were the very members of the Three Sects of Medical Dao who had just been driven out of the mountain valley. The three masters led at the front, their faces dark and brooding, not uttering a single word. Two disciples from the Sect of Medicine, their expressions twisted with disdain, carelessly carried the now crippled Wang Qianyuan before them as if he were nothing but a lifeless dog, stripped of all dignity.

Once the pride of the Sect of Medicine, Wang Qianyuan had only just regained consciousness. Lifting his eyes, he saw that his junior sister Ling’er had already distanced herself, cold and indifferent, not sparing him so much as a glance. Wherever he looked, he found only the schadenfreude of his fellow disciples. Overcome with grief and fury, he spat out another mouthful of blood and promptly fainted again.

Seeing Wang Qianyuan in such a pitiful state, the elder of the Sect of Medicine snorted coldly, cursing, “Useless wretch!” Recalling the recent events, his anger only grew. This journey up the mountain had yielded them nothing but loss—a disciple sacrificed and nothing gained. The loss stung bitterly.

Seething, he declared, “The Chisong Dao Palace is far too arrogant. When the Medical Dao Assembly convenes, we will strike without mercy. That old Jade Serenity will meet his doom!” The old crone nodded in agreement. “Indeed! We must force them to wager all the spiritual herbs within Chisong Dao Palace. Only then will they truly atone for today’s transgressions!”

As they plotted their revenge against Chisong Dao Palace, the mountain wind shifted, carrying with it a fragrance so pure and fresh it seemed to wash over the soul. The scent lingered, drifting gently through the mountain air, refusing to dissipate. Spirits lifted, everyone halted and looked toward the source of the fragrance.

There, several hundred paces away and half-hidden among the pine branches, stood a natural stone cliff. Upon its surface was a small spring, no different from the one they’d seen in the valley. On either side of the spring, rare and marvelous herbs grew thickly, their forms hazy in the mountain mist.

The old crone exchanged glances with her two companions, and in each of their eyes, greed burned brightly—mixed with a trace of resentment that Chisong Dao Palace should possess such a blessed land.

“These spiritual herbs—we three houses shall divide them equally. What say you?” the crone suggested first.

“Agreed! Let all our disciples gather as many as they can and we’ll be off at once!” the others replied without hesitation.

Determined not to be discovered again, they sent all their disciples up the cliff to harvest the herbs swiftly, while the three masters themselves made straight for the oldest and most valuable plants.

“Ha! A hundred-year spirit grass!”

“I’ve found a Moonpetal Flower—far rarer than your spirit grass!”

The disciples began to fight over the bounty, wild with delight, their arms soon overflowing with treasures.

“Senior sister, look at this Violet Pine Fungus! The cloud pattern covers its entire surface—if I recall, our sect has only one piece of such quality!”

Ling’er, the junior sister from the Hundred Flowers Sect, gazed at the fungus with shining eyes. She hugged a head-sized lump of smoky violet pine fungus tightly to her chest, unwilling to let go for fear someone might snatch it from her. Yet as she drew it close, she noticed its scent was oddly off. She sniffed it—rather than the characteristic fragrance, a faint stench seemed to taint it.

Puzzled, she broke off a small piece of the outer layer and placed it in her mouth, hoping to taste its medicinal properties. The moment it touched her tongue, a vile stench overwhelmed her, making her dizzy and nauseous.

Before she could react, a familiar, playful voice drifted to her ears. “Hee hee! How does that dirt taste?”

She looked up to see, perched atop an ancient pine tree, a white fox with enchanting red eyes, its lips curled in a mischievous smile. Beneath the pine stood a man in white, holding a censer from which fragrant smoke curled—the very same scent that had lured them here.

The three masters were struck by a simultaneous sense of foreboding. Before they could react, the white-robed man raised his right hand, beaming, and waved a cheerful farewell to the group.

In that instant, as the assembled crowd realized something was amiss and tried to flee the cliff, it was already too late. Unbeknownst to them, the stone cliff beneath their feet had become as thin as paper. One step, and a great section collapsed.

With cries of alarm, everyone found themselves suddenly falling, plummeting from the cliff’s edge.

Though the cliff was not high, it was treacherously steep, offering no foothold. In their panic, they tumbled down like gourds rolling down a hill, one after another.

Even the three masters, protected by their inner strength, found it impossible to regain their balance amongst the chaos—especially as disciples rained down from above, landing on them and leaving their robes and faces stamped with footprints. In moments, all were reduced to utter disarray.

“You little fiend! You wretch!” came anguished, furious shouts from below, echoing sharply and mournfully among the cliffs.

Bai Yi, up in her tree, burst into laughter, doubling over and clutching her belly, unable to contain her mirth. Seeing her so delighted, Jiang Liunian couldn’t help but smile as well.

All that had just unfolded was, of course, their handiwork. His paper-folding Daoist arts and Bai Yi’s illusions were nearly indistinguishable from reality, and with the others blinded by greed, they never saw through the ruse.

After laughing for a while, Bai Yi suddenly grew a little concerned. She asked warily, “If the real master finds out what we’ve done, will he blame us?”

Jiang Liunian chuckled. “Do you really think Daoist Jade Dawn is unaware of what happens here? Without his concealment, the martial masters would have sensed us long ago.”

She slapped her forehead, suddenly enlightened. No wonder the mountain breeze had arrived so conveniently! In this Chisong Mountain, who but their own master could alter the wind’s course so easily?

…

Atop the mountain, deep within the clouds and mist, Lin You sat beneath the ancient pine, blending incense. Hearing the exchange between the two below, he could not help but smile and shake his head. Of course, their mischief could not escape his notice here atop Chisong Mountain. But seeing as the victims were all villains, he chose not to interfere. Instead, he lent a silent hand, helping them vent Bai Yi’s indignation.

Satisfied that the two were safe, he withdrew his gaze and returned to his studies, examining the incense manual before him. This manual, once belonging to Jiang Liunian, was said to contain the incense formulas used by ancient cultivators. But in this era of depleted spiritual energy, the rare ingredients it required were nearly impossible to find, rendering the book almost useless. After their last philosophical discussion, Lin You had received it as a casual gift.

Even so, a few of the ancient incenses could still be made, for their ingredients were not so rare. What Lin You was blending now was the Welcoming Spirit Incense described in the manual.

It was said: “A single stick of pure incense opens the gateways of the Dao, its smoke and clouds inviting guests to come.”

Such was the introduction to the Welcoming Spirit Incense. Legend held that in ancient times, if an immortal wished to gather for discourse, they would light this incense within their mountain abode—the smoke would rise straight to the blue heavens, carrying its fragrance for thousands of miles and guiding fellow cultivators to the assembly.

But in these times, with ingredients scarce, the formula had been abridged and replaced with common herbs. Even so, if the scent of ordinary Welcoming Incense reached ten miles, it was already considered of the highest quality.