4: Chapter 4 The Down-on-His-Luck Old Taoist

Lu Mingyuan had walked less than ten steps out of the ancient temple when his footsteps suddenly came to a halt.

A faint sound reached his ears—not the mountain wind through the forest, nor the rustling of birds or beasts, but a sort of suppressed, intermittent gasping coming from behind the side of the temple. The sound was so weak it was nearly drowned out by the wind; if not for the sharp enhancement of his five senses after the Awakening of his All-encompassing Clarity talent, he wouldn't have noticed it at all.

He listened intently, confirming the source of the sound was within the waist-high patch of overgrown weeds behind the temple.

Hesitation lasted only a moment. Lu Mingyuan gripped the ancient scroll in his robes, took a deep breath, and turned to push aside the weeds. Morning dew soaked the hem of his robe, and blades of grass left thin scratches on the back of his hand. After walking about thirty feet toward the sound, the scene deep within the weeds made him gasp—

An old Daoist lay flat on his back amidst the jagged rocks.

His Daoist robes were in tatters, the original bluish-gray stained a dark brown by blood and mud. His gray hair and beard were messy and tangled, covered in grass clippings and withered leaves. His face was devoid of color, his lips cracked and purple, and the rise and fall of his chest was so faint it was nearly invisible. Most shocking was his right shoulder—the fabric was torn, revealing a wound with mangled flesh. The edges were a strange greenish-black, slowly oozing dark blood. Around the wound, the veins beneath the skin bulged, spreading like a spiderweb in a deep purple hue.

Lu Mingyuan hurriedly knelt down and reached out to check the old Daoist's breath.

A faint but warm current of air touched his fingertips; the man was still alive. He gently lifted the old Daoist's eyelids—his pupils were dilated, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, clearly indicating he had fallen into a deep coma. Looking at the wound again, under his All-encompassing Clarity vision, he could see wisps of black aura eroding the Meridians throughout the body from the site of the injury. Wherever it passed, the originally pale gold life current was contaminated and blocked.

This was no ordinary injury.

Records of "Devilish Qi invasion" from the ancient scroll flashed through Lu Mingyuan's mind instantly. Without time for second-guessing, he instinctively looked around—this place was exposed, the morning wind was picking up, and with the old Daoist's critical condition, he had to be moved to a sheltered spot immediately.

"Daoist, please excuse my rudeness."

He leaned down and carefully helped the old Daoist up. The old man was surprisingly light; his skeletal frame felt as if it might fall apart at any moment. Lu Mingyuan supported his back with one hand and hooked the other behind his knees, using all his strength to barely lift him and stagger back.

With every step, a pained groan escaped the old Daoist's throat.

Returning to the ancient temple, Lu Mingyuan laid the old Daoist flat in the corner where he had stayed the night before, where the residual warmth of the campfire still lingered. He quickly took off his outer robe to cushion the old man's head, then went to the corner of the hall to gather more withered leaves to make a rudimentary bed.

Once settled, the next step was to clean the wound.

Lu Mingyuan had no experience in treating injuries, but having read medical books like the Essential Prescriptions of the Golden Coffer and Emergency Formulas to Keep up One's Sleeve, he knew some basic principles. He tore off the hem of his still-clean inner shirt, found a mountain spring outside to soak it, and returned to the old Daoist's side.

The process of cleaning the wound was extremely difficult.

The moment the fabric touched the wound, the old Daoist's body shuddered violently, and he even let out a beast-like low growl in his unconscious state. Lu Mingyuan gritted his teeth, forcing his hands to remain steady as he wiped away the fouled blood around the wound bit by bit. The greenish-black wound was deep enough to see the bone, and the flesh at the edges was necrotic, emitting a faint stench—not of rot, but a colder, instinctively repulsive scent.

Under his All-encompassing Clarity vision, he could clearly see the black Devilish Qi writhing deep within the wound like a living thing. Every time he rinsed it with fresh water, the Devilish Qi would churn violently, further eroding the surrounding healthy tissue.

"This won't work..." Lu Mingyuan broke into a sweat.

He recalled a note in the ancient scroll: "Devilish Qi is of a foul, Yin nature and fears masculine Noble Spirit. Ordinary medicine can hardly cure it; it must be slowly dissipated using Pure Yang Qi or the power of Karma." He didn't have Pure Yang Qi, let alone the power of Karma. But—"Noble Spirit"?

While studying Confucian classics yesterday, he had unexpectedly cultivated a trace of Noble Spirit. Though it was faint...

Lu Mingyuan closed his eyes and concentrated, recalling the feeling of that trace of Noble Spirit circulating within his body. After a moment, a warmth indeed rose from his chest, thin as a strand of silk yet pure and gentle. He tried to guide this warmth to gather in his palm, then slowly pressed it against the old Daoist's wound.

Sizzle—

At the moment of contact, the black Qi reacted violently, exploding like boiling oil meeting water. The old Daoist's body arched sharply before falling back heavily. Lu Mingyuan didn't dare relax, continuing to channel that meager Noble Spirit. By the time the incense had burned for a while, he was soaked in cold sweat, but the black spiderweb-like veins at the edge of the wound had actually receded slightly.

It worked!

Lu Mingyuan's spirits lifted as he continued the treatment. After another hour, the black Qi on the surface of the wound was mostly dissipated. Although it still lingered in the depths, at least it was no longer spreading. He took the last clean handkerchief from his robes, tore it into strips, and carefully bandaged the wound.

After finishing this, Lu Mingyuan was nearly exhausted.

But he didn't dare rest. The old Daoist's breath was still weak, and he needed water. He found the broken clay pot he had used to catch rainwater last night, fetched fresh water from the spring, and then faced a dilemma—how do you feed water to an unconscious person?

His gaze fell upon the old Daoist's waist. Tied there was a palm-sized gourd, purplish-black and smooth as porcelain. Lu Mingyuan untied the gourd and pulled out the stopper; a rich medicinal fragrance wafted out. The gourd was half-full of a dark red liquid that emitted a faint golden-red glow under his All-encompassing Clarity vision.

"It should be healing medicine..." He hesitated for a moment before pouring a small amount into the clay pot of fresh water. The medicinal liquid dissolved instantly, turning the water pale red. He tore off a small piece of his sleeve, dipped it in the medicinal water, and bit by bit moistened the old Daoist's parched lips.

At first, there was no reaction, but as the medicinal water seeped in, the old Daoist's Adam's apple moved slightly, and he began to swallow instinctively.

Lu Mingyuan patiently repeated this action, taking a full half-hour to feed him a pot of water. During this time, the old Daoist's breathing gradually stabilized, and a very faint color returned to his face.

The sun climbed higher, and the temperature inside the ancient temple rose.

Lu Mingyuan stayed by the old Daoist's side, not daring to leave. He carefully observed the old man's features: a broad forehead, prominent brow bones, and a straight nose. Even in his haggard, unconscious state, one could tell he was a man of extraordinary appearance. His hands were covered in calluses, especially at the base of the thumb and the knuckles, clearly from years of gripping something—not farm tools, but... a sword? A fly-whisk? He wasn't sure.

Although the Daoist robes were tattered, a closer look revealed the material was high-quality cloud brocade. The inside of the cuffs was embroidered with extremely fine Bagua patterns in silver thread, with exquisite stitching that certainly didn't belong to an ordinary Daoist temple.

"This Daoist priest is likely no ordinary wandering Daoist," Lu Mingyuan thought to himself.

He looked at the purplish-black gourd again. Two tiny seal characters were carved on the bottom, clearly discernible under his All-encompassing Clarity vision: "Xuanwei."

Xuanwei.

Lu Mingyuan's whole body jolted—wasn't this the "Old Daoist Xuanweizi of the Hidden Temple on Zhongnan Mountain" mentioned in the ancient scroll's notes?!

His heart rate suddenly accelerated. Could there really be such a coincidence in the world? He had just decided to look for this person, and the man appeared outside the ancient temple where he was taking shelter from the rain, and heavily injured at that?

No, it wasn't a coincidence.

Lu Mingyuan recalled Bai Ze's words: "You have already been drawn into this great Karma." Perhaps from the moment he discovered the ancient scroll and awakened his talent, the threads of fate had begun to tighten, drawing the relevant people here.

He re-examined the old Daoist's injury. The wound on the right shoulder was caused by sharp claws; the claw marks were triangular and went deep into the muscle and bone. The residual Devilish Qi at the edges of the wound was seventy percent similar to the aura of the blood-red light in the Northwest from last night, only more insidious and overbearing. Connecting this to the ancient temple's location on a leyline node...

"Was the Daoist priest here to investigate the anomaly and got attacked?" Lu Mingyuan whispered to himself.

The old Daoist did not respond, but his eyes moved slightly under his lids, as if struggling in a dream.

At the third mark of the hour of Wu, the old Daoist suddenly began to cough violently.

Lu Mingyuan quickly helped him up to lean against his chest. The old man coughed up several mouthfuls of black blood. When the blood hit the ground, it actually sizzled, corroding several shallow pits. After coughing up the blood, the old Daoist's breathing became clearer instead. His eyelids fluttered and slowly opened.

They were a pair of extremely tired yet still clear eyes. At first, the pupils were dilated, but they quickly focused on Lu Mingyuan's face. The old man's lips moved, his voice raspy like a broken bellows: "You... are..."

"Junior Lu Mingyuan was passing through this place and saw that the Daoist priest was injured and unconscious, so I took the liberty of lending a hand," Lu Mingyuan said, keeping his tone as steady as possible. "The Daoist priest's injuries are severe; please do not speak and rest well."

"Lu... Mingyuan..." The old Daoist repeated the name, a nearly imperceptible glimmer flashing in his eyes. He tried to lift his hand but it fell back powerlessly; he could only gasp out: "Water..."

Lu Mingyuan fetched more medicinal water to feed him. After a few sips, some spirit returned to the old Daoist's eyes. His gaze swept over his bandaged wound and then settled on Lu Mingyuan's face: "You... dissipated the surface Devilish Qi?"

"Junior understands a bit of medical theory and did so by chance."

"By chance?" A faint, bitter smile tugged at the corner of the old Daoist's mouth. "Devilish Qi is Bone-Eroding; ordinary Cultivators are injured upon contact... You have pure Confucian Noble Spirit in you. Though it is faint, it is the nemesis of such foul things. This is a great Opportunity, as well as..." Before he could finish, he had another coughing fit.

Lu Mingyuan patted his back gently. Once the coughing subsided, he asked, "How should I address the Daoist priest? And how did you come to be injured like this?"

The old Daoist was silent for a moment before slowly saying, "This poor Daoist is... Xuanweizi. As for this wound..." He looked toward the Northwest, a grave expression appearing in his eyes. "I went to investigate something that shouldn't be investigated and was wounded by something that shouldn't exist. Young man, by saving me, you have also become tainted by this Karma. Are you afraid?"

Lu Mingyuan met his gaze and said calmly, "Junior already saw the blood-red light in the Northwest last night and knew this was no ordinary matter. Since I have entered this game, what is there to say of being afraid or not?"

Xuanweizi stared at him for a long time, the fatigue in his eyes gradually replaced by a deep scrutiny. He suddenly asked, "That book in your robes... could this poor Daoist have a look?"

Lu Mingyuan was slightly startled—could the old Daoist actually sense the aura of the ancient scroll? But he did not hesitate; he took out the oilcloth bundle and carefully unfolded it.

The moment Xuanweizi saw the cover of the ancient scroll, his pupils suddenly contracted. He didn't touch the book, but stared at it for a long while before letting out a long sigh. "So that's how it is... Bai Ze chooses its master, and the ancient scroll appears in the world. The Dharma Ending Age is approaching, and even the one that escaped has begun to manifest..."

Lu Mingyuan only understood a small portion of these words, but he caught the key point: "Does the Daoist priest recognize this scroll?"

"More than just recognize it." Xuanweizi closed his eyes as if reminiscing. "This original copy of the classic of mountains and seas was held by an old friend of this poor Daoist... three hundred years ago. After he perished, this book's whereabouts became unknown. I didn't expect that three hundred years later, it would fall into your hands, and you... would save this poor Daoist."

He opened his eyes, his gaze complex. "Young man, is this the will of heaven, or a calamity?"

Lu Mingyuan did not answer. He helped Xuanweizi lie down slowly and covered him again with the outer robe. "Daoist priest, the most important thing right now is to recover. As for other matters, we can speak of them once your condition has stabilized."

Xuanweizi watched his back as he busied himself fetching water and tidying the bed of withered leaves. A very faint, nearly invisible smile slowly appeared on his weary face.

In that smile was relief, reflection, and a hint of being unburdened.

Outside the window, the sun began to sink in the west.

Inside the ancient temple, there was one old and one young, one injured and one protecting.

Kindness took root here, and Karma was linked from this point on.

And the path of cultivation truly began from this ordinary afternoon of saving a life.