Chapter 104: Close Thunder (Part 2)

Ever since the passing of the old Head Priest Wang Chonglou, Wudang's already meager offerings had dwindled further. Fortunately, the nearly thousand old Taoists, middle-aged libationers, and young acolytes behind the archway were accustomed to a simple life. When roofs leaked, they patched them; when robes wore out, they mended them. They cultivated a few vegetable patches and raised some chickens and ducks, harboring no complaints. However, at this moment, a young Taoist was squatting behind the Xuanwu Dangxing Archway, sighing. Beside him, several mischievous sweeping acolytes from nearby Taoist temples squatted, all eagerly vying for the Taoist to tell them love stories from books. These stories were far more interesting than the Taoist scriptures, though a bit too melancholic; none of the men or women in them seemed to have a happy ending. Hearing the storyteller next to them nearing the end, their hearts grew increasingly heavy. Wasn't this why they endured being beaten by their masters and skipped their Taoist lessons to sneak out?

"Supreme Grand-Uncle, how can this book have so many lantern riddles, drinking games, and poems? Could one person really have thought of all of them? If so, the author must be incredibly learned, almost as learned as you, Supreme Grand-Uncle, right?" a young acolyte, who had only been on Wudang Mountain for less than two years, asked timidly. The young Taoist had rosy lips, white teeth, and a very spirited demeanor. With both hands propped on his cheeks, he gazed intently at his master's master's master's uncle. According to custom, he should have called him the Head Priest, but everyone in the temple seemed to say that the Supreme Grand-Uncle disliked that title, so they continued to address him by his generational seniority.

"Nonsense! How could the author of this book be as learned as Grand-Uncle!" a slightly older acolyte, who had joined the mountain earlier, flicked a "chestnut" at him, his face stern and unyielding. The scolded young acolyte clutched his head, not daring to retort.

"That's not nonsense. If the author of this book were to debate Taoist doctrine with me, they probably wouldn't win. But when it comes to matters of love and affection, I'm miles behind. This illustrates the principle of specialization. When you study scriptures with your masters in the future and encounter difficult questions, don't assume that everything your masters say is correct. If your masters punish you for something you don't believe you did wrong, you can come find me on Lotus Peak. If I still say you're wrong, and you're still not convinced, you can go down the mountain to seek out the truth. If one day you find the answer and believe that your masters and I were mistaken, you can return to the mountain and tell us that we were indeed wrong. And if you realize you were wrong, don't feel ashamed. Remember, Wudang's mountain gate never closes." The young Taoist smiled, gently rubbing the head of the youngest acolyte, his smile warm and kind.

"Supreme Grand-Uncle, I think it's wrong for masters to hit us with a stick whenever they're unhappy, don't you agree?" the young acolyte asked innocently.

The young Taoist chuckled softly, "I also got hit a few times when I was little, but now I know that most of those times I was indeed in the wrong. The few times I wasn't, well, over time, I just stopped dwelling on them. Masters and elder brothers aren't saints without tempers; it's inevitable that they'll make some mistakes. Over Wudang's thousand-year history, tens of thousands of Taoists have been recorded, yet there is only one statue of Xuanwu Tianzun. We, including myself, are all mere mortals. You must allow others to make mistakes, and allow yourselves to make mistakes. Don't get stuck in dead ends, or you'll live unhappily. Having come into this world for such a fleeting journey, constantly sulking will only make you miserable, even if you were an emperor or a general. Besides, we are recluses; worldly glory and wealth are nothing but fleeting clouds. 'When the Tao is achieved, broken tiles turn to gold; within the alchemical furnace, spring eternally resides.' Wudang is my pillow, and my pillow is Wudang—that is enough."

A slightly older acolyte quietly said, "Grand-Uncle, I've heard that wealthy families eat meat every day. I'm so gluttonous; when I chant scriptures on an empty stomach, I always find myself drooling just thinking about it."

The elegant, transcendent, and highest-ranking young Taoist smiled, "Isn't eating meat every day the same as having plain tea and simple meals every day? Qingfeng, if Grand-Uncle gives you ten steamed buns, the first one tastes delicious, but what does the tenth one taste like?"

The young acolyte named Qingfeng grimaced and said, "Ten steamed buns? I'd be stuffed to death."

The young Grand-Uncle laughed heartily, "Exactly! It's the same principle both on and off the mountain. The Head Priest, my elder brother, once said that 'a high Tao is not as important as a high heart.' If we become greedy, there will be no end to it. On the mountain, before Patriarch Lü ascended to immortality, he hung his sword at the Moon Corner of the Southern Sun and Moon Re-illumination Palace. Do you know what was so formidable about that sword?"

"My master said it could fly into the ravines!"

"It must have been for slaying demons!"

Answers varied wildly and wonderfully. The young Grand-Uncle listened, smiling without speaking, and only when silence fell did he gently say, "Patriarch Lü seemingly left a three-foot sword, but in reality, he left the roots of the Tao to Wudang, teaching us to use the precious Green Edge to cut through worries, greed, hatred, and carnal desires."

"Carnal desires?" The youngest acolyte looked bewildered. The other slightly more knowledgeable young Taoists chuckled knowingly.

"The book I read is called 'The First Snow in the East Wing,' and some of the brief mentions of male-female matters there are what I mean," the young Grand-Uncle said with a chuckle.

"Does Supreme Grand-Uncle have carnal desires?" The little one dug deeper.

Before the Grand-Uncle could reply, the little one was soundly beaten by his junior elder brothers and junior uncles.

The young Grand-Uncle gently rubbed his little head again and softly said, "Yes, I do."

A chorus of surprised gasps erupted around them, yet no one felt that this young ancestral figure on Wudang Mountain, who admitted to having carnal desires, was any less eminent, learned, or amiable because of it.

The young Grand-Uncle chuckled, "Knowing one's flaws isn't a bad thing. It's no different from how we Taoists seek the Heavenly Way; it's only when we know the Way isn't yet ours that we strive to attain it."

"Grand-Uncle, haven't you achieved the Tao yet?" a young Taoist asked nervously.

"It's hard to say," the young Grand-Uncle honestly replied.

At that moment, a group of elderly pilgrims from Yongzhou finally made their way, breathless, along the divine path for over ten *li*, arriving beneath the archway. The young Taoist immediately stood up and motioned for the young acolytes beside him to help carry their luggage. As they descended the mountain, the acolytes skillfully introduced Wudang Mountain's scenery and temples. The elderly pilgrims, likely finding the young Taoists endearing, gradually showed tired but content expressions, resting intermittently as their fatigue slowly dissipated. The young Grand-Uncle knew that the younger acolytes wouldn't be able to accompany the pilgrims to the mountain top, so he sent them down first. He then picked up all the luggage himself. The elderly people felt bad, but the young Taoist, who had spoken little along the way, smiled and said it was no trouble. Seeing him ascend the mountain with effortless grace, like flowing clouds and water, an indescribably wondrous demeanor that clearly wasn't feigned ease, the elderly pilgrims felt much more at ease. Without the young acolytes present, the elderly pilgrims finally asked a slightly sensitive question, one that inevitably touched upon Wudang Mountain's new and old Head Priests. The last time these elderly pilgrims from Yongzhou visited Wudang was over a decade ago; this trip was likely their final pilgrimage to offer incense. Most had a good impression of Wudang, but their descendants were more inclined to travel further afield to Longhu Mountain. Though their own bodies could no longer manage such a journey, their words implied that if they were twenty years younger, they might indeed have gone to Longhu Mountain, which had successively produced three State Preceptors.

The young Taoist, carrying numerous bags on his back, simply smiled upon hearing this, appearing somewhat guileless. In the eyes of the elderly pilgrims, this was far more appealing and comfortable than any attempt to vehemently praise Wudang Mountain.

They slowly ascended the mountain, and only as they neared the summit did they encounter an old Taoist meditating while gazing at the sea of clouds.

The old Taoist finally recognized the face of the young Taoist carrying the heavy load up the mountain. He immediately rose, bowed respectfully, and said, "Greetings, Head Priest."

The young Taoist smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

The dozen or so elderly pilgrims couldn't believe their ears. They all turned to look at the young Taoist who had accompanied them, listening all the while to discussions about how impressive Longhu Mountain was and how desolate Wudang Mountain had become.

They had indeed heard that Wudang Mountain's Head Priest was unusually young, and a significant reason for their pilgrimage to Wudang this time was the hope of seeing the new Head Priest, even if only from a distance, just to be touched by his auspicious presence. Regardless of Wudang's decline over the past century, it was ultimately once the Taoist ancestral temple that had surpassed Longhu Mountain. With the immortal Wang Chonglou as a brilliant precedent, the pilgrims still wholeheartedly regarded the new Head Priest as a divine master.

But how could this young immortal be carrying luggage for a bunch of old folks like them?!