Journey to the West: The Great Sage's Guide

Chapter 61 Incense and Preaching

Zhong Xuan gradually realized that the true way for cultivators to perceive the world was both interesting and time-consuming.

He devoted himself entirely to this task for twenty days, merging his divine consciousness and will into the earth.

Then, from among the thousands of vibration frequencies, first identify which frequency is higher and what it is.

Was it the sound of human or animal footsteps?

The frequency of those vibrational ripples was like they were running?

Is it the tiger's heavy hooves, or the rabbit's light leap...?

Gradually, as these experiences accumulated, some mysterious and indescribable changes began to emerge.

Zhong Xuan felt both gratified and moved, for this was precisely what his Tai Xuan Daoist lineage considered of utmost importance:

Emerging.

The vitality and growth of all things are contained in the word "emergence".

The emergence of the Tao is what he believes to be the ultimate truth.

Only through continuous learning and accumulation can one be qualified to emerge.

He never sought, nor did he believe, in the existence of a supposed ultimate path.

In Zhong Xuan's eyes, the end of the Dao does not exist; there is only constant change and growth...

"Sir! We want to ring the bell!"

"Hear the sermon!"

The two rabbit and fox spirits, who had transformed into charming young girls, both cried out in a clear, crisp voice.

Zhong Xuan, the incarnation of the mountain god, did not respond. As if he were gradually turning into a stone statue, he sat silently cross-legged.

But some people who had built huts nearby were already coming over.

Zhong Xuan didn't pay attention and continued to focus his attention on the tea stall.

His ability to clearly visualize the tea stall is tantamount to holding a nascent seed in his hand.

As long as it continues to grow and strengthen, it will eventually be able to depict the form and spirit of the entire Cuiyun Mountain from the side.

By then, he would have truly become a qualified mountain god.

He is a "god" slowly growing in this Cuiyun Mountain.

Humans can only live if they have a spirit.

Zhong Xuan now understood that the cultivation path of this mountain god incarnation was unique.

Unbeknownst to him, he seemed to have embarked on a path of becoming an "earth immortal," transforming himself into the divine will of this Emerald Cloud Mountain.

Unfortunately, in many places, the earth's veins have still been artificially "closed off".

If his divine will were to rashly intervene, it would be detected instantly and regarded as an intrusion.

To this day, Zhong Xuan has only developed a large circle of about four or five miles in circumference, centered on the mountain god temple, and has avoided the direction to the east leading to the Rakshasa Woman's cave.

From the complex tremors emanating from the earth's ley lines, he knew...

The tea stall's tables were already packed, and people were probably even squatting on the stones by the roadside.

A rough count reveals at least a dozen.

Based on the identities of those who had listened to his teachings over the past few days, Zhong Xuan already had a general idea of ​​what was going on. Most of these people were carrying weapons.

He freely sketched some images in his mind, like a freehand ink painting.

The figures depicted are either carrying swords or knives, some with gourds hanging from their waists, and others with prayer beads wrapped around their wrists. In short, it is clear at a glance that they are all practitioners.

They were complete strangers, but because they were squeezed together, they naturally started chatting.

Zhong Xuan found the interesting point to be that he was the point where things happened by chance.

It is because he was the incarnation of the mountain god.

Entering the world is sometimes a form of cultivating one's mind and practicing spirituality, and that's why.

At this moment, he used the power of the earth's veins to quietly listen to and observe everyone's conversation.

First, there was a greeting between a pair of burly men with thick beards and a Taoist priest in a gray robe.

A middle-aged Taoist priest, dressed in a gray robe and carrying a pine-patterned sword, bowed to the man who had just sat down opposite him and asked, "Where do you come from, fellow Taoist?"

The man was burly, with a full beard, and a large, ghost-headed saber strapped to his back. His voice boomed, "You came from Black Wind Ridge, a full four hundred li of mountain road. How about you, brother?"

"It's not close either, it comes from Bailangjian, three hundred and sixty li away," the Taoist priest said in a low voice. "Fellow Daoist, have you also heard of that sorcerer's reputation?"

Then, some beneficiaries shared their experiences.

A tall, thin man at the next table chimed in.

His cheeks were sunken, as if he hadn't eaten in a long time, but his eyes were very bright, probably because his cultivation method was strange.

"How could it not be? I was stuck at the third level of Qi Refining for seven whole years. The spiritual energy in my dantian was scattered and did not gather. I tried everything and almost gave up cultivation and went back to my hometown to farm!"

"I listened to that monk talk for half an hour, and he only glanced at me once, saying that I was using the wrong acupoint when circulating my qi, mistaking the Lingtai acupoint for the Dantian..."

Everyone at the table was staring at him.

The tall, thin man slapped his thigh: "After seven years of hitting a bottleneck, I broke through it all in one night!"

At that moment, Zhong Xuan heard the voice of another old man from his memory.

"I'm the same way!"

An elderly man with gray hair and beard next to him nodded repeatedly.

This person had a rather unique voice, so it left a deep impression on Zhong Xuan.

Wearing a faded old scholar's robe and carrying a copper coin sword across his back, he was clearly a rogue cultivator, and probably a poor scholar before.

"In my early years, in order to break through to the next level, I haphazardly consumed an unknown spiritual herb, which resulted in the poison seeping into my bones. Whenever it was cloudy or rainy, I would experience stabbing pain in my meridians all over my body. I consulted countless doctors and cultivators, but none of them could cure me..."

"As a result, the mountain god only patted my back a few times, forcing out a few drops of black blood, and I haven't felt any pain for the past two weeks!"

The old scholar said with gratitude and emotion.

"Is it really that miraculous?" A young monk who had just arrived stared wide-eyed.

"Why would I lie to you!" the tall, thin man snapped.

"In the past two weeks, at least twenty or thirty people have received guidance from the Master... Some have broken through their bottlenecks, some have been able to enter the path, and some have even had their old injuries healed!"

"Look at all these people on the mountain; they've all come from hundreds of miles away."

The dozen or so people at several tables chimed in, each sharing their own experiences.

From their words, they almost pieced together the image of a learned old man who could easily guide cultivators on various paths of practice, a figure worthy of admiration.

Some say they personally witnessed an ordinary person who couldn't even sense spiritual energy enter the sect on the spot after being guided by a master.

Some say that a certain rogue cultivator was stuck at the Foundation Establishment stage for twenty years, but after listening to a few words here, he finally grasped the key.

Zhong Xuan listened quietly, not caring.

In his eyes, dealing with these rogue cultivators was nothing more than a transaction.

He needs the Dao of the rogue cultivators to help him verify and compile the new Tai Xuan Jing.

They also need their devout offerings—there's really no real affection involved.

At this time, the tea stall was as lively as a market. The old man's granddaughter carried a copper kettle back and forth to refill the tea, her braids swinging behind her as she worked, which was quite adorable.

"I don't know if it's true or not. If it really is possible to gain entry into cultivation or receive guidance..." The young cultivator's eyes held both longing and doubt.

"If they are truly so powerful and willing to open doors of convenience, then their merits are immeasurable," some people remarked.

Before the words were finished, a cold laugh came from the table in the far corner of the tea stall.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound and saw a young man sitting alone in a corner.

"Go, all of you, go!"

He picked up the teacup, shook it, and then slammed it down, splashing tea onto the table.

"In these deep mountains and forests, people set up altars to preach the Dharma, feeding you all until you achieve spiritual success! And then what? It's like raising wheat or planting rice; once you've grown to a certain size, they devour you all, one bite at a time."

These words were ominous, and just then, the mountain breeze blew through the hall in the early morning, making the coarse cloth on the ceiling flutter loudly.

More than a dozen people shuddered at the same time.

They were genuinely a little frightened by what they heard, after all...

No one in the world does good deeds for no reason, right?

"Nonsense?" A young man crossed his arms, leaned back, and suddenly stood up.

"Have you ever seen a complete stranger, a master, who would just casually reveal their true skills?! They don't want money or profit, they just want some offerings. Can offerings feed you these days?"

The room was completely silent.

Zhong Xuan found it interesting and could roughly guess what the young man was like.

Whether it's a member of some local interest group within Cuiyun Mountain?

"Don't panic, everyone." The old man at the tea stall put down his palm-leaf fan, slowly walked out, and bowed to the crowd.

"What this young master is saying is the behavior of a demon. But the monk on our Cuiyun Mountain is a proper mountain god who opened the door of convenience out of compassion."

He stroked his white beard.

"In my opinion, this is a win-win situation... You all have received the blessing of the Mountain God's sermon, and you are grateful in your hearts. So you sincerely offer incense, and this is the best of both worlds."

Zhong Xuan listened to this and secretly made a mental note of it.

She's... quite lucky; perhaps we should take extra care of her.

Then another Taoist priest, who had cultivated Taoism for decades, offered a cold explanation:

"As far as I know, the mountain god of Cuiyun Mountain, the mountain god of the Heavenly Court, needs incense offerings and political achievements, just like us mortals who become officials... You don't need to worry about being eaten. If you sincerely offer more incense, the mountain god will definitely give you more guidance."

These words were quite honest, and everyone's expressions immediately relaxed considerably.

The young cultivator patted his chest and breathed a sigh of relief: "So it's the Mountain God. Then it's not a monster. Don't be afraid."

But then someone asked an even more astute question.

The gray-robed Taoist priest put down his teacup, his eyes flashing slightly. "Old man, may I ask whether this mountain god is self-proclaimed or officially appointed by the Heavenly Court?"

Before the old man could answer, someone else chimed in:

"As some fellow Daoists have just said, if it is a true god appointed by the Heavenly Court, then it is guaranteed!"

"This Cuiyun Mountain is his base of operations, so it is impossible for him to do anything to harm the worshippers. Otherwise, he would not only ruin his reputation, but the Heavenly Court would also punish him."

The young man in the corner laughed again, this time even louder, his shoulders shaking.

"Stupid, stupid, utterly stupid! Even if he is a mountain god appointed by the Heavenly Court, so what? Open your eyes and look where you are—Xiniu Hezhou!"

"What kind of place is Xiniu Hezhou? Demon kings have been entrenched in its mountains and caves for thousands of years. When has the Heavenly Court ever truly reached in there?"

He looked around at everyone, his eyes full of mockery.

"It's one thing for the Heavenly Court to act with impunity in Jambudvipa, and it can barely keep an eye on things in Victory Continent, but what are they in Aparagodaniya? As for Julu Continent in the north, that bitterly cold, icy place is where the Heavenly Court exiles criminals, so there's no need to mention it!"

These words were spoken with great confidence, but several people present, who were clearly aware of the situation in Xiniu Hezhou, began to hesitate.

After a moment of silence, someone slammed their hand on the table and stood up.

It was the burly man with a thick beard carrying a large, ghost-headed scissor.

His face flushed red, veins bulging on his neck, and he pointed at the young man angrily, saying, "What you're saying has nothing to do with me! No matter how much knowledge you have, no matter how high your standards are, are you willing to be like that mountain god sorcerer, widely opening up the Dharma gates and guiding us rogue cultivators?"

"Yes, yes! That's exactly right!" The tall, thin man was the first to agree.

"You've been talking for so long, why don't you show us some real skills?" someone chimed in.

"What kind of skill is it to just pour cold water on things?" someone mocked.

The young man was met with a barrage of criticism from the crowd.

The mocking expression on his face froze for a moment, then he snorted coldly, turned his head away, and said nothing more.

Just then, the old man's granddaughter pointed upwards along the mountain path and shouted, "The sun is almost up! The time for the Dharma Master's sermon is approaching!"

Upon hearing this, everyone looked up at the sky.

The sun had risen above the mountain ridge, and golden rays slanted down, bathing the entire mountain path in a radiant glow.

Faintly, the sound of continuous bells could be heard.

The dozen or so people who had been arguing just moments before instantly lost their will to fight. They dropped their tea money, grabbed their weapons and bags, and rushed up the mountain path.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry or there won't be any good seats left!"

"Brother Dao, wait for me!"

"I arrived late yesterday and could only stand outside the thatched hut to listen, but today I'm determined to squeeze to the front!"

The burly man with the thick beard took two steps at a time and rushed to the front.

The gray-robed Taoist priest, who had been maintaining his composure, couldn't help but lift the corner of his robe and stride after them when he saw everyone running away.

Even the old man who had looked so worried just moments before slung his copper coin sword over his shoulder and moved with incredible speed, showing no sign of the old wound from the deep-seated poison.

……

The hot-tempered youth emerged from the fork in the dense forest path, his feet barely touching the ground, and headed straight for a stone cave carved into the mountainside.

In front of the cave entrance was a flat earthen platform, where a woodcutter-looking man was sitting on a tree stump sharpening his axe.

He was burly and stocky, dressed in a patched-up coarse hemp tunic, with a rope for bundling firewood tied around his waist. He looked no different from an ordinary woodcutter, except that his axe-sharpening technique was unusually slow with each push and pull, the blade tracing a very steady arc on the whetstone.

The young man kicked away the loose rocks at the cave entrance, stood up angrily, and blurted out:

"Grandpa Niu! That mountain god is far too arrogant!"

The woodcutter didn't stop swinging his axe; he just glanced at it.

"For the past two weeks, he's set up a thatched hut outside the mountain god's temple and preaches every day, teaching everyone. Today, all three tables at his tea stall are full, with over a dozen wandering cultivators coming from hundreds of miles away! At this rate—"

The young man paced back and forth on the earthen platform, his footsteps making the gravel crunch.

"It won't be long before he gathers a large following. Then how will we maintain our hold on this beautiful and spiritually rich land of Cuiyun Mountain?"

The woodcutter held the axe up to his eyes, examined the blade against the sunlight, flicked it with his finger, and the axe emitted a clear, resonant hum.

"Don't worry."

"No need to worry?" the young man asked anxiously.

"The more arrogant they are, the more outrageous they become." The woodcutter placed his axe on his lap.

He pulled a pipe from his waist and slowly stuffed tobacco into the copper bowl. "The more dissatisfied people there are, the more impatient you are. What's the rush?"

The young man opened his mouth, and the woodcutter struck a match, lit a pipe, and took a deep drag.

Smoke slowly billowed from his nostrils, obscuring his square face.

"You must not disturb him."