Volume One: The Journey of the Useless, Fiery Demon-Slaying Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Young Lady of the Chang Family Returns Home
Chen San suddenly seemed to recall something, staring at Yang Chengzi in shock and falling silent. Yang Chengzi grew interested, sat upright, grasped Chen San’s hand, and said, “Tell me, what happened at that time? I saw a black-red divine soul enter your body. I wanted to stop it, but it was too late. Afterwards, I lost track of what happened.”
Chen San swallowed and replied, “If I told you it wasn’t summoned by me, would you believe it?”
“No.”
“At the time, I was looking for a powerful divine consciousness. Countless spirits passed by, but I couldn’t sense anything particularly strong. Just as I was growing anxious, that soul appeared in my senses, exerting immense pressure. I felt that if I didn’t summon it, the matter couldn’t be resolved, but the old man warned me that divine souls may be friend or foe. As I hesitated whether to summon it, everything after that is a blank.”
Yang Chengzi frowned, “I saw you stomp the ground and invoke the gods. How could you not know what happened?”
Chen San looked helpless. “I truly don’t know. Anyway, I don’t remember what happened next. Ah, but the ghost was dealt with, wasn’t it?”
Yang Chengzi regarded Chen San with a puzzled frown. “Recite the incantation for your summoning technique.”
“Alright, alright. The hand signs are Ox, Monkey, Rat, Pig, Rooster, Rabbit, Goat. The incantation is ‘Wind treads lightly, inviting the God Sovereign; a thousand miles of open sky, the soul goes ahead.’”
Yang Chengzi’s eyes widened. “That’s not the Daoist summoning art! No wonder you said there wouldn’t be Five Defects and Three Lacks. I always wondered how you, a mortal with no cultivation, could use a summoning technique.”
Chen San was incredulous. “If it’s not summoning, what is it? That’s how the old man taught me.”
Yang Chengzi mused, gazing at the floor. “I don’t know what technique it is, but it’s definitely not Daoist summoning. I know a bit about Daoist arts; I’ve never seen one that doesn’t require a foundation and is so powerful. Powerful arts usually come at a price. Didn’t the old master warn you?”
“No, he said there’s no price, only that I wouldn’t suffer the Five Defects and Three Lacks. He didn’t mention anything else.”
Yang Chengzi saw Chen San wasn’t lying.
“It’s not important. If he didn’t tell you, he must have his reasons. He used a divine soul to help you kill the demon; he certainly wouldn’t harm you. But what I really want to ask is: how do you know the Daoist Eight Great Incantations, specifically the Tranquil Mind Spell? They’re only passed down to the Maoshan sect leader. How did you learn it?”
So Yang Chengzi was asking about the Tranquil Mind Spell, and Chen San did indeed know it. The old man had explained its origin when teaching him.
“Oh, you want to know about the Tranquil Mind Spell? The old man told me its origin.”
“Oh? Tell me in detail.”
Chen San stood up. “I’ll fetch some vegetarian dishes from the young monk for you. I’ll tell you the origin of the spell while you eat. Afterward, we must prepare to return to Chen Family Town.”
Yang Chengzi was about to stop him, but Chen San had already stepped out of the meditation room.
Thinking he hadn’t eaten for nearly three days, Yang Chengzi realized he needed food and water, so he rose, put on his robe, and paced about the room. His body was weak from hunger, unable to clench his fists tightly. He stretched, glanced at the Shangqing Sword and his bundle.
Soon, Chen San returned carrying a large bowl of vegetable porridge, placing it on the table and urging Yang Chengzi to eat while it was hot.
Yang Chengzi smiled. “Only a few days off Maoshan, and I already miss their meals.”
Chen San scoffed, “No wonder you can’t find a wife, eating vegetarian every day. Who would want you? Eat while it’s hot, and if it’s not enough, I’ll bring more. Don’t be shy, haha.”
Yang Chengzi didn’t argue about marriage; he took a few sips of porridge and said, “Tell me about the origin of the Tranquil Mind Spell. What did the old master say?”
Chen San pulled up a stool and sat. “The spell? The old man told me he once used the summoning technique to invite the divine consciousness of a Daoist ancestor. The spell was left behind by that divine consciousness.”
Yang Chengzi hadn’t expected this. His own Shangqing Sword and Eight Great Incantations had been passed to him by his master in a woodland battle against an evil sorcerer, so it made sense.
The two discussed Master Sui Chang, drank porridge to regain some strength, washed and tidied up in the temple, and prepared to depart.
Just as Master Sui Chang arrived at Yang Chengzi’s meditation room and the three met, a young monk entered and bowed to Yang Chengzi.
“Master Yang, there is a lady outside the temple wishing to see you. We have invited her to the guest room to wait.”
Yang Chengzi was perplexed, and Chen San exclaimed in surprise, “Master, you’ve only left the mountain a few days and already a young lady has come seeking you. My respect, my respect.”
Yang Chengzi knew Chen San was teasing and ignored him.
Chen San mused whether it was some woman Yang Chengzi had secretly met before descending the mountain—a hypocritical fellow.
Yang Chengzi followed the young monk to the guest room, unable to guess who knew they were at Hanshan Temple.
The monk indicated the lady was inside and withdrew. Yang Chengzi had just stepped into the room, one foot inside, and saw a young woman seated, playing with a lock of her hair.
Upon seeing her face, he hesitated to step further. This young woman was the last person Yang Chengzi wished to see; her arrival meant trouble he couldn’t shake off.
The journey back to Chen Family Town would be fraught with danger; he couldn’t bring her along. He was caught in a dilemma, unable to advance or retreat.
The young woman, seeing someone enter, his hair tied, appearance refined, clad in green robes like a figure from a painting, exactly as her father had described, stood and asked, “Are you Master Yang Chengzi?”
Yang Chengzi, hearing her speak, reluctantly stepped all the way in and replied awkwardly, “Yes, miss. I am Yang Chengzi. What brings you to seek me?”
She was displeased by his response.
“What brings me to you? Don’t you know?”
“I have urgent matters. If you wish to say something, please do so directly.”
“You saw me naked. Naturally, I must offer myself to you. If you won’t marry me, my reputation is ruined—how could I ever wed? Who would want me? Why else would I seek you?”
Yang Chengzi had anticipated this. He had explained to Master Chang before saving Chang Yu that, as a Daoist, he could not marry.
He explained to Chang Yu, “It was just to save you, and only with your parents’ consent. I am a Daoist—though not as pure as Buddhist monks, my heart is devoted to the Way. I cannot marry you. Please return home, miss.”
Chang Yu frowned, pouting fiercely, “What’s so special about Daoists? Even monks can return to secular life. Why can’t Daoists marry? If you won’t wed me, how do we settle this?”
Yang Chengzi remained calm. “Miss, I saved your life. That should settle the debt. If you were to die, your parents would be heartbroken.”
“You did save my life, but you ruined my innocence. A woman’s reputation is paramount; the whole town is abuzz, even three-year-olds know you stripped me to save me, saw me naked. If you won’t marry me, it’s no different than taking my life.”
Hearing this, Yang Chengzi panicked, thinking he could brush her off with a few words.
He hadn’t expected Miss Chang Yu to be not only beautiful, with exquisite features, but also eloquent and clever, pressing him with the threat of death, forcing his hand.
After several exchanges, Yang Chengzi found himself with no retort, her words made sense, and he felt genuinely indebted, losing his confidence.
“Miss, I failed to consider thoroughly. Your marriage is no trivial matter; your parents would never agree to you marrying a Daoist.”
Chang Yu, seeing his tone soften, grinned mischievously, “How do you know my parents wouldn’t agree? Why don’t you come home with me now and see what it means to enter the bridal chamber tonight?”
Yang Chengzi was at a loss for words, but realized Master Chang must have consented to Chang Yu seeking him and had told her he was at Hanshan Temple.
Not wishing to dwell on the topic, Yang Chengzi asked, “Enough of that. The journey here passes through wild hills and forests. How did you get here?”
Chang Yu sensed his concern and replied cheerfully, “I had attendants and came by sedan chair. Father sent several bearers to keep me from fatigue. I didn’t expect you’d care so much.”
Little did she know Yang Chengzi wasn’t concerned for her but was thinking how she’d return. Hearing she came by sedan chair, he was relieved.
“Then you should return for now. When we come back from Chen Family Town, I’ll visit your home. This trip is too dangerous for you to accompany us.”
But Chang Yu refused, “Husband, you worry too much. I sent the bearers and attendants home. Wherever you go, I’ll go. If you won’t marry me, I won’t leave your side.”
Yang Chengzi felt as if struck by a heavy iron hammer, nearly suffocating. Seeing Chang Yu’s mischievous smile, he was anything but pleased, but could only say, “If you wish to follow, then follow. Fate is decreed by heaven, not by us.”
Chang Yu, hearing his consent, was overjoyed, suddenly shy.
Yang Chengzi turned to leave. Chang Yu, admiring his flowing green robes and handsome profile, followed close behind without hesitation.
Just outside, Yang Chengzi bumped into Chen San and Master Sui Chang, who had come to find him.
Seeing the stunning young woman following Yang Chengzi, Chen San nearly drooled, but was more eager to tease him.
Since descending the mountain together, with Yang Chengzi protecting him, Chen San had always teased Yang Chengzi about not finding a wife. Yang Chengzi, devoted to cultivation, cared little for worldly affairs and ignored the banter.
As a cultivator, one does not marry; his uncles, elders, master, and teacher all lived thus, devoted to safeguarding the people.
With such a golden opportunity, Chen San wouldn’t let it pass, so he winked and joked, “Master Yang, you have skill! Such a delicate maiden seeks you out—what business does she have?”
Chang Yu was delighted to hear this, secretly smiling behind Yang Chengzi.
Yang Chengzi, already annoyed, wanted to teach Chen San a lesson, but remembered Chen San also hadn’t married. He whispered in Chen San’s ear, “This is thanks to you. Your fortune-telling brought me a wife, and now she’s come to find me.”
Chen San, hearing Yang Chengzi call her his wife, was dumbfounded, as if he’d swallowed a fly, standing there in disbelief. He turned, hooked Yang Chengzi, and exclaimed, “Is it possible? Even a Daoist can marry?”
He deliberately spoke loudly for Chang Yu to hear, hoping her purpose was something else, so he’d feel better.
Actually, Chen San hadn’t recognized Chang Yu. When he’d seen her before, she was nearly dead, lying in bed with a fox spirit around her neck. Too frightened to look closely, he hadn’t noticed her features.
Before Yang Chengzi could reply, Chang Yu spoke up, “What do you know, little rascal? Who says Daoists can’t marry and have children? Even monks leave the order. Why can’t Daoists wed?”
Another invisible slap stung Chen San, who’d tried to embarrass Yang Chengzi but was himself embarrassed by both.
Master Sui Chang recited a Buddhist verse, “Amitabha, such a sin. Miss, this is a place of purity; do not disturb our cultivation.”
Chang Yu stuck out her tongue at the master, then playfully took Yang Chengzi’s arm. He didn’t resist, not wanting her to follow, let alone link arms.
Since Chen San was teasing, Yang Chengzi played along, letting him see it through, to repay all the taunting about not finding a wife.
Seeing Chang Yu holding Yang Chengzi’s arm, with no resistance, Chen San pushed Yang Chengzi toward her and said, “Here you go! A Daoist, off the mountain for a few days, already found a wife. Who can explain this?”
The four said farewell to the abbot and left Hanshan Temple, heading back to Chen Family Town. What had been two now became four. Chen San didn’t find it lively, but troublesome. Meals and lodging were more complicated.
A Daoist and a monk ate vegetarian; the young lady was clearly a wealthy heiress, unlikely to settle for plain fare.
Most inns had rooms for two. He’d share with the monk; Yang Chengzi and the young lady weren’t married, so they’d need separate rooms—three rooms in total.
Just thinking about it made his head ache. Luckily, he still had some silver, earned by Yang Chengzi through fortune-telling. If it ran out, Yang Chengzi could always tell more fortunes. He pondered silently, saying little on the road.
“Who goes there, following us in broad daylight?” With a sword’s whistle, the Shangqing Sword left its sheath; Yang Chengzi turned toward the rear.
Chen San’s thoughts were interrupted by Yang Chengzi’s shout. He looked in the direction Yang Chengzi faced, and saw his Sister Wan’er standing behind them, calling his name. Only then did he remember Wan’er had been waiting outside Hanshan Temple for nearly three days; he’d almost forgotten.
Yang Chengzi’s sword was drawn. Chen San hurried to stand before Chen Wan’er and explained with a grin, “She’s no wandering spirit, but my Sister Wan’er, who came with me from Chen Family Town. The old man sent her and the spirit tiger to protect me. I forgot to mention this.”
Yang Chengzi, unable to open his heavenly eye, couldn’t see Chen Wan’er, but sensed her presence. Closing his eyes, he detected no evil, only spiritual energy, so he sheathed his sword.
“You’re not an ordinary soul; daylight will still burn you. Best to appear at night.”
Chen San smiled, “Sister Wan’er, it’s still early. Please hide in my spiritual consciousness to avoid the sun’s harm.”
Chen Wan’er gently agreed and entered Chen San’s consciousness.
The four continued on, but Chen San felt he’d forgotten something important, though he couldn’t recall what. He mulled it over as they walked.
Four people—a Daoist, a monk, a rascal, and a wealthy heiress—gathered together by the troubles of Chen Family Town, though their paths would never have crossed otherwise.
Chen San had now found everyone the old master had tasked him to seek: Taiyuan True Immortal of Maoshan, and Master Sui Chang, the meditating monk at Hanshan Temple.
Taiyuan True Immortal, concerned about Chen Family Town’s troubles, had gone ahead. Master Sui Chang was returning with Chen San.
After nearly half an hour on the road, Chen San slapped his forehead, remembering the promise to the abbot to first help the villagers of Fu Family Village with the two coffins.
Faced with the others’ expressions of annoyance, he could only laugh to ease the awkwardness. After all, they’d walked nearly half an hour before he remembered.
In Chang Yu’s words, “If you’d waited another ten days or half a month, we’d already be in Chen Family Town.”
Chen San felt guilty and didn’t dare retort; after all, it was his own promise.
Yang Chengzi didn’t mind where they went first; all roads were the same to him. His only purpose in descending the mountain was to protect Chen San and escort him to Chen Family Town. Once his master and others dealt with the great demon, he’d return to Maoshan.
Having taken the wrong road, they had to turn back. Because they went to Fu Family Village, the return journey would follow a different main road.
That route had fewer villages, more small towns, making rest and meals easier, especially with a young lady in the group. Unless absolutely necessary, they would stay in inns whenever possible.