Chapter 32: A Shoulder to Bear the Burden

An expert strives for the perfect ‘qi’ flow, a dynasty possesses its destiny, and a sect commands its own aura.

Among the three dominant Taoist schools, Longhu Mountain was highly esteemed by the Liyang Dynasty, serving as the leading Taoist lineage for centuries. Its Four Heavenly Masters were each more profoundly skilled than the last, and Longhu Mountain continually produced talents, with one or two reclusive geniuses destined to become sect leaders emerging almost every generation.

In the past century, Ge Hong, author of *The Taiji Golden Elixir*, denounced external elixirs as unorthodox practices. His sweeping 200,000-word treatise aimed directly at Wudang, thoroughly criticizing its Elixir Cauldron sect.

Fifty years ago, Qi Xuanzhen emerged, single-handedly eradicating six protectors of the Demonic Sect. Regrettably, until his ascension on the Demon-Slaying Platform at Longhu Mountain, this True Man never had the chance to contend with Wang Xianzhi. Otherwise, the title of ‘World’s Foremost’ would not have remained unclaimed.

Thirty years ago, a National Grand Master, highly skilled in the path of internal elixirs, burst onto the scene. He miraculously extended the old emperor’s lifespan by a full fifteen years, reportedly using a life-for-life method. This Grand Master, who in his prime claimed he would live for 180 years, passed away unexpectedly before reaching seventy, yet his actions brought a century of glory to Longhu Mountain.

Ten years ago, a hundred-day debate between Buddhism and Taoism concluded when an unknown Taoist from Longhu Mountain suddenly appeared and definitively settled the matter. His eloquence and profound understanding of doctrine were so exceptional that Two Zen Temple, which had been certain of victory, was forced to concede.

And Wudang?It seemed to have no noteworthy figures or achievements in the past century.Where then was its grandeur?

Had Wang Chonglou not cultivated the Grand Yellow Court, this mountain, apart from its devout Beiliang pilgrims, might have been forgotten by the world, along with its Greater and Lesser Lotus Peaks, its Jade Pillar, and the prophecy ‘Xuanwu Shall Prosper.’

Today, Hong Xiangxiang was refining elixirs with Song Zhiming, the most senior brother on the mountain. They weren’t at Qingyun Peak, which was renowned for its immense cauldrons, but on Lesser Lotus Peak, using only a waist-high bronze furnace. It didn’t consume much charcoal, sulfur, or alchemical stones. There was no selection of an auspicious day, no construction of an altar or drawing of talismans, nor any display of treasured swords or ancient mirrors for warding off evil. To outsiders, it hardly resembled the proper setup for refining high-quality elixirs. Yet, Song Zhiming was extremely nervous, treating this process with a hundred times more seriousness than any at Qingyun Peak. He knelt on the ground, personally controlling the heat, not even noticing his two white eyebrows hanging down to the floor.

Despite his age, Song Zhiming had refined countless elixirs, many of which had found their way to high-ranking officials and even imperial relatives in the capital. His ‘Zhiming Elixirs’ enjoyed considerable renown throughout the dynasty. However, the elder knew that his elixir refining, like his cultivation, was limited by his comprehension. He had merely exhausted all human and material resources, lacking the perfect balance of yin and yang. Thus, when *The Taiji Golden Elixir* was published, Song Zhiming could only offer a wry smile, finding himself helpless to refute its claims. But after his junior brother came to the mountain, he perused all the classics and surprisingly forged a new path, not confined to either internal or external elixirs, but cultivating both. Therefore, in recent years, when refining elixirs, it wasn’t Song Zhiming teaching Hong Xiangxiang how to ‘subdue dragons and tigers’ and ‘regulate the five elements’; rather, the senior brother willingly acted as a fire-tending acolyte for his junior brother.

To the Crown Prince, this cattle-riding Taoist appeared to be the most idle, yet to all his senior brothers, Hong Xiangxiang was truly the reincarnation of Emperor Zhenwu, poised to turn the tide. The four-thousand-character *Cantong Qi* elixir refining method, in the eyes of Sect Leader Wang Chonglou, was nothing less than the most exquisite secret text of Taoism in five hundred years. It didn’t merely teach alchemy; it taught how to attain the supreme Tao! Wang Chonglou never hid that these four thousand characters were precisely what inspired him to cultivate the Grand Yellow Court. Similarly, the boxing techniques Xu Fengnian learned, clearly a fusion of the Jade Pillar heart method and the pinnacle of Wudang sword arts, were not found by Hong Xiangxiang in the scripture pavilion as he claimed. Instead, this young grand-uncle gained insights from his daily, monotonous divination, insights that perfectly aligned with the Heavenly Dao.

The young Taoist on the ox had no idea how astonishing his actions truly were. Even if he knew, with his timid nature—constantly called a ‘cowardly turtle’ by the Crown Prince—he would probably just grumble that ‘down the mountain is too scary,’ and that he, the humble Taoist, ‘would rather die than descend the mountain before becoming the world’s foremost.’

Hong Xiangxiang, frowning intently at the elixir furnace, suddenly pulled Brother Song and shouted, “Withdraw!” Song Zhiming immediately sensed trouble. No matter how precious an elixir requiring countless silver and gold, could it compare to his junior brother? He instantly swept his sleeves and swiftly floated backward with Hong Xiangxiang.

With a rumble, the elixir furnace exploded. The entire Wudang Mountain heard the ear-splitting roar, and thick plumes of green smoke could be seen rising from all the mountain peaks, Taoist temples, and palaces. Yet, no one was surprised; they simply looked up at the smoke and went back to work.

“Ha, our Grand-Uncle is being mischievous again.”

On Lesser Lotus Peak, the two brothers were in a sorry state. Song Zhiming’s Taoist robe sleeves were tattered rags, but at least he had protected his junior brother, the culprit.

Hong Xiangxiang hurried to lament his bronze elixir furnace, which he had forged meticulously by hand. Moreover, the number of pilgrims to Wudang had been dwindling over the years, and the mountain was notoriously short on funds. If not for Senior Brother Song refining elixirs day and night on Qingyun Peak, never missing an auspicious day, they would have been utterly penniless, left with truly nothing but ‘empty sleeves.’ After all, Wudang was not Longhu Mountain. While self-sufficiency on this mountain wasn’t difficult, attempting anything beyond that required a will that lacked the means. Hong Xiangxiang’s mind was simple, but that didn’t mean he was an ignorant fool. If one mistook simplicity for childishness, then there would truly be no intelligent people left in the world.

Hong Xiangxiang naturally understood perfectly why Sect Leader and Senior Brother invited the Crown Prince to Wudang, but he didn’t react with the same anger and rejection as Brother Xiao Wang.

Hong Xiangxiang squatted, seeing the muddy puddle of elixir in the broken furnace. He picked up a tiny bit with two fingers, sniffed it at his nose, and said with a troubled expression, “Still far from ready. Third Senior Brother, it seems I’ll have to borrow your furnace. Don’t scold me then. Brother Xiao Wang won’t even let me into his bamboo grove anymore, and if I can’t go to Qingyun Peak either, well, sigh.”

Song Zhiming, with his kind, benevolent expression, looked at his junior brother’s troubled, pained face and laughed heartily, “No problem at all.”

Suddenly, Hong Xiangxiang looked up at the sky, lost in thought.

Song Zhiming recalled a small incident from many years ago and teased, “Junior Brother, you’ve spent quite a lot of time cozying up to the Crown Prince this past year. What is it, you can’t bear to part with that Miss Xu in red? If I remember correctly, that little girl came up the mountain wrapped in bright red on a snowy day, and your eyes were fixated on her.”

Hong Xiangxiang smiled wryly, “Third Senior Brother, even you! Now only Brother Xiao Wang hasn’t made fun of me. I was only fourteen back then, what did I know?”

Song Zhiming asked with a smile, “How old are you this year?”

Hong Xiangxiang, who never kept track of his age, diligently counted on his fingers. “Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

Song Zhiming chuckled playfully, “Then you remember quite clearly that you were fourteen when you saw that girl?”

Hong Xiangxiang fell silent, continuing to stare blankly at the sky.

That year, the Prince of Beiliang’s manor, led by the Great Pillar General Xu Xiao, ascended the mountain with nearly a hundred people. At the time, the Great Pillar General had just pacified half the martial arts world, and everyone gloated, expecting Beiliang’s iron cavalry to crush Wudang along with everything else. Yet, unexpectedly, Xu Xiao’s visit to the mountain was not to dismantle the ‘Xuanwu Shall Prosper’ archway, but merely to offer incense. This could be discerned from the small group he brought to Wudang: his eldest daughter Xu Zhilou, then in her early bloom; his second daughter Xu Weixiong, whose poetic and literary talents were beginning to make her famous throughout the land; Xu Fengnian, who carried an inexplicable yin aura; and the perpetually simple-minded Xu Longxiang. After reaching the mountain, the Great Pillar General’s four children wandered around haphazardly. Among them, Xu Weixiong was the most overbearing and arrogant, carving the words ‘exiled three thousand li’ behind the statue of Emperor Zhenwu. Though crudely written, they already revealed her inner sharpness. Wudang was dumbfounded upon discovering this, yet dared not utter a single harsh word. Her elder sister Xu Zhilou, however, made no outrageous moves. She simply wandered about and eventually encountered a ‘little Taoist acolyte’ riding an ox.

The first thing she said upon seeing him was, “Hey, little Taoist, how old are you?” The little Taoist on the back of the green ox blushed and pondered for a long time. By the time he finally determined his age, the strikingly red-clad girl in the snow had already impatiently walked away.

Only Hong Xiangxiang, who was already Wudang’s youngest grand-uncle at the time, remained, muttering, “Fourteen, ah.”

Their second meeting occurred just before she was to be married off to Jiangnan, a thousand li away. Cranes circled overhead, creating a scene like a fairy realm. Near the Turtle-Borne Stele on Lesser Lotus Peak, she saw Hong Xiangxiang and asked with a smile, “Hey, little Taoist, this mountain is so boring. Why don’t you marry me? It would be so much fun.”

He still flushed crimson, unable to utter a single word.

After that, there was no ‘after that’; they never met again. He only knew she was called Xu Zhilou, that she liked to wear striking red clothes, and his last memory was hearing her murmur to herself one day, “I really want to ride the Yellow Crane.”

Hong Xiangxiang once again counted on his fingers, making an exception to perform two divinations in one day. He was calculating whether he could descend the mountain in this lifetime. He was calculating whether he could ride a crane to Jiangnan.

He didn’t know that such a descent, unprecedented and unparalleled, would surely lead him to be regarded as an immortal.

At the summit of Wudang Mountain, dark clouds gathered, and faint thunder could be heard. Hong Xiangxiang suddenly looked up and rose, gazing towards Hanging Immortal Peak.