7: Chapter 7 The Mystic Master Reveals His True Form

Three days passed. On the mountain path outside the ancient temple, moss had gradually covered the traces left by the torrential rain.

Lu Mingyuan paid his respects every morning and evening. Besides his own cultivation, he spent his time tending to Xuanweizi's injuries. Although his cultivation at the first level of Qi Refining was meager, it had completely refreshed his spirit—his steps were light, his senses were sharp, and even his thoughts were much clearer than before. He had studied that Jade Slip of the Classic of Purity and Tranquility dozens of times, gaining new insights with every reading.

However, Xuanweizi's injuries caused the doubts in his heart to deepen day by day.

Common sense dictated that when a practitioner of cultivation was injured, if there were medicines to regulate the body supplemented by their own cultivation for healing, the recovery speed should be far faster than that of an ordinary person. Moreover, the medicinal liquid Xuanweizi was taking flowed with a gold-red light under the Eye of Clarity, clearly making it a rare Spirit Medicine. Yet three days had passed, and while the claw wound on the old Daoist's shoulder had scabbed over on the surface, the situation inside was...

Lu Mingyuan squatted by the fire boiling the medicinal soup, but his gaze occasionally drifted toward Xuanweizi in the corner. The old Daoist was currently closing his eyes and regulating his breathing; his breath was long and his complexion had become more ruddy, appearing as if he were indeed improving. But under the vision of All-encompassing Clarity, Lu Mingyuan saw a different scene entirely:

That blue-black Devilish Qi had not been completely dispelled; instead, it had retreated from the surface of the wound into the depths of the muscles and bones, entrenching itself in the vital nodes of the marrow and Meridians. Every time Xuanweizi circulated his power to regulate his breathing, the Devilish Qi would wriggle like a living thing, silently devouring the spiritual energy the old Daoist had refined. Meanwhile, the old Daoist's own true essence was split into two streams: one confronted the Devilish Qi on the periphery, maintaining a fragile balance; the other was extremely pure and condensed, circulating through his body in a mysterious trajectory, seemingly guarding something more important.

What concerned Lu Mingyuan even more was the nature of that pure true essence.

It was not the spiritual energy of an ordinary Cultivator. Under the Eye of Clarity, it appeared as a nearly transparent pale blue, so pure that it was untainted by the slightest Impurities. As it circulated, it carried an inherent rhythm of purity and non-action, faintly resonating with the remnants of the Formation patterns on the ancient temple's walls. Lu Mingyuan had once quietly compared it to the records of 'Dao Rhyme' in the ancient scrolls of the classic of mountains and seas, and found that this quality was seventy percent similar to the description of a 'Saint's True Essence' in the book.

A Saint?

This thought gave Lu Mingyuan a start. But he quickly suppressed his shock and continued to observe.

On the morning of the fourth day, Lu Mingyuan changed Xuanweizi's dressing as usual. He carefully peeled back the cloth strips, revealing the wound beneath. The scab was dark red, but around the edge was a circle of extremely fine golden patterns, as precise as embroidery. Those were the traces left behind when he had previously used Noble Spirit to drive away the demons; now, they had actually merged with the old Daoist's own true essence, forming a thin Seal that temporarily locked away the Devilish Qi in the depths.

"Daoist Master, the wound seems much better today," Lu Mingyuan said, seemingly casual as he applied the ointment.

Xuanweizi kept his eyes closed and gave an "Mhm."

"It's quite strange," Lu Mingyuan continued. "This Devilish Qi is sinister and overbearing; ordinary Cultivators would be injured just by touching it. Yet you, Daoist Master, can suppress it within your muscles and bones with your true essence. This level of cultivation... I'm afraid you've already reached the Golden Core or even the Nascent Soul Realm, haven't you?"

Xuanweizi's eyelids twitched slightly, but he did not respond.

Lu Mingyuan washed the cloth strips, his tone remaining calm: "I have read the 'Seven Slips of a Cloudy Satchel,' which says that once a Cultivator forms a core, their true essence becomes as condensed as mercury and can leave the body for a hundred zhang without dissipating. I have also read 'baopuzi,' which says that when a Nascent Soul Cultivator first forms their Primordial Spirit, it can briefly leave the body to travel. The pure true essence in your body, Daoist Master, seems... even more profound than the descriptions in the books."

The ancient temple fell silent.

There was only the crackling of dry branches burning in the fire and the wail of the mountain wind blowing through the window frames.

After a long time, Xuanweizi slowly opened his eyes. He didn't look at Lu Mingyuan but instead gazed at the damaged beams above, his voice calm and without a ripple: "Young man, you know quite a lot."

"I just enjoy reading." Lu Mingyuan raised his head, his gaze clear. "And since I have the Eye of Clarity and can see things ordinary people cannot, I naturally have to look more, think more, and ask more."

Xuanweizi turned his head, his deep eyes looking directly at him: "Then what have you seen?"

Lu Mingyuan put down the cloth strips in his hand and said solemnly: "I have seen three things."

"Speak."

"First, the injury you sustained was not caused by a common demonic creature. The Devilish Qi remaining in the wound contains a trace of an extremely ancient 'curse' aura, similar to the characteristics of the 'Ancient Magic Gods' recorded in the classic of mountains and seas. This curse becomes more corrosive the higher one's cultivation is—because it devours not just flesh and blood, but the very Dao Foundation."

Xuanweizi's pupils contracted imperceptibly.

"Second," Lu Mingyuan continued, "the true essence you use to combat the Devilish Qi is far more pure than anything recorded in the classics I know. Its circulation accords with the rhythm of the Heavenly Dao and can trigger a resonance with the three-hundred-year-old remnants of the Formation in this temple. According to the ancient scrolls, such a quality is possessed only by an 'Immortal of the Dao' or an 'Incarnation of a Saint.'"

He paused, emphasizing every word: "Third, and what puzzles me most—with such cultivation, why are you willing to live in seclusion on Zhongnan Mountain? Why did you come alone to Eagle Beak Cliff to investigate that blood-light in the Northwest? And why... after being injured, did you not immediately return to your sect to recover, but instead stayed in this dilapidated ancient temple?"

The three questions were like three arrows, pointing straight to the core.

Xuanweizi listened in silence, his expression unchanging. It wasn't until Lu Mingyuan finished that he sighed softly: "You are even more perceptive than I anticipated."

"You don't deny it, Daoist Master?" Lu Mingyuan pressed.

"Deny what?" Xuanweizi suddenly smiled, a smile touched with faint exhaustion and a certain sense of relief. "What you say is the truth. This wound indeed comes from the descendant of an Ancient Magic God, and my cultivation is indeed beyond the Golden Core or Nascent Soul Realms. As for why I came here, why I stayed..."

He propped up his body, sitting against the wall, and looked out at the distant mountains: "Because all of this is destiny."

"Destiny?" Lu Mingyuan frowned.

"Do you believe in fate?" Xuanweizi suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question.

Lu Mingyuan thought for a moment: "I once believed that 'fate is determined by heaven,' but ever since the day the flood blocked the road and I found the ancient scroll, I have begun to believe that 'man's actions determine his destiny.'"

"Well said, 'man's actions determine his destiny.'" A flash of approval appeared in Xuanweizi's eyes. "But what if I told you that your encounter with the flood, your discovery of the ancient scroll, and your rescue of me—all of this was foreseen by someone three hundred years ago? What would you think then?"

Lu Mingyuan's breath hitched.

"Three hundred years ago, before my old friend who held the original copy of the classic of mountains and seas perished, he left behind a prophecy." Xuanweizi said slowly, "He said: Three hundred years later, when the Dharma Ending Age arrives, a scholar holding this scroll shall appear in the world. At the ancient temple on Eagle Beak Cliff, he shall save a dying old Daoist. This scholar carries the Opportunity of the one that escaped and possesses the Eye of Clarity; he shall become the Variable in the Great Tribulation."

Every word was like a heavy hammer striking Lu Mingyuan's heart.

"So you were intentionally waiting for me here, Daoist Master?" His voice was tight.

"Not waiting, but meeting the tribulation," Xuanweizi corrected. "I indeed came to investigate the blood-light in the Northwest and indeed suffered an attack from the descendant of an Ancient Magic God. I fled here after being heavily injured, firstly because this place is a node in the earth's pulse where I can use the Spiritual Qi to suppress my injuries; and secondly because... this is exactly the place pointed to by the prophecy."

He looked at Lu Mingyuan with a complex gaze: "And you did indeed appear at the time of the prophecy."

Lu Mingyuan felt his mouth go dry. He had always thought his experiences were a stroke of luck, a coincidence in the randomness of fate. But if all of this was destined long ago, then what meaning did his choices and his efforts have?

"Daoist Master," he asked with difficulty, "if everything was already predestined, then what kind of 'Variable' am I?"

"Good question." A strange light shone in Xuanweizi's eyes. "The prophecy only said you would come, that you would save me, and that you would become a Variable. But how you save me, what happens after you save me, and in what direction the Variable changes... none of these were mentioned in the prophecy."

He raised his uninjured hand and traced in the air. Where his fingertip passed, pale golden light traces formed two words:

"Karma."

"You see, the prophecy is like these two words," Xuanweizi explained. "The 'Cause' has been planted—you saved me, obtained the ancient scroll, awakened your talent, and stepped onto the path of cultivation. But what 'Fruit' will be produced depends on your choices at every step. This is the 'glimmer of hope' left by the one that escaped, and the only 'Variable' within the Great Tribulation."

Lu Mingyuan stared blankly at those two words, the mist in his heart gradually clearing.

"So my actions are not entirely meaningless?"

"They are more than just meaningful," Xuanweizi said solemnly. "Every thought of yours, every choice, could lead to a completely different result in the future. This is your 'Dao'—to find Variables within destiny, and to create possibilities within the inevitable."

The ancient temple fell into silence once more.

Lu Mingyuan digested these words for a long time before asking: "Then your true identity, Daoist Master... is it also related to this prophecy?"

Xuanweizi did not answer directly. He reached into his robes and took out an object—a palm-sized medallion, neither metal nor jade, profound black in color, with three ancient Seal characters carved on the front:

"Eight Views Palace."

On the back was a simple Bagua diagram, with the Qian position particularly prominent, faintly swirling with purple Qi.

"This token can prove my identity." Xuanweizi handed the medallion to him. "As for who I actually am... you will know when the time is right. Knowing too much now will bring you no benefit."

Lu Mingyuan took the medallion. It was warm to the touch, and the faint sound of the Great Dao seemed to come from within. Under the Eye of Clarity, a faint purple-gold halo surrounded the medallion. Was that... the aura of Karma? He couldn't be sure, but he could feel that the status of this medallion far exceeded the scope of his current understanding.

"I understand." He respectfully handed the medallion back. "One last question—how is your injury, really? Is there a cure for that Devilish Qi curse?"

Xuanweizi put away the medallion, his expression calm: "The injury is not a problem; I know what I'm doing. As for the curse... there is naturally a cure, but it requires some Opportunity. And these opportunities might just lie with you."

He paused, his tone softening: "Lu Mingyuan, you don't need to think too much. For now, what you must do is build a solid Foundation and increase your cultivation as quickly as possible. Once my injury is stable, I will take you back to Zhongnan Mountain. That is where you will truly begin your cultivation."

Lu Mingyuan took a deep breath and bowed solemnly: "I obey your command."

Xuanweizi nodded and closed his eyes to regulate his breathing once more.

Lu Mingyuan retreated to the fire and continued to boil the medicinal soup. The wooden spoon in his hand stirred slowly as the fragrance of the medicine filled the temple. His heart was in a state of upheaval, but he forced himself to calm down.

A true master does not show his face.

What is revealed might never be the entirety of a "true master."

He looked at Xuanweizi's calm face and suddenly remembered a sentence from the tao te ching:

"The masters of old were subtle, mysterious, and profound, too deep to be understood."

This Daoist Master was perhaps such a "master."

Outside the window, the sun rose higher. The birds in the mountains chirped clearly, and everything seemed normal.

But Lu Mingyuan knew that from this day forward, the world in his eyes was completely different from what it had been before.