Volume One: The Journey of the Useless—Fiery Demon-Slaying Chapter Four: Realm of the Divine Soul—Dragons Coiled, Tigers Crouched

Although Chen San was no longer as frightened as before, his legs still trembled like twisting braids. Clinging to the iron ring, his feet braced on the chain, he tried to climb up with all his might, but his legs shook so violently that he simply couldn’t get anywhere. After countless attempts, his trembling remained uncontrollable. The old man, meanwhile, sat cross-legged in tranquil composure, unmoved as a boulder. Perhaps after half an hour, Chen San grew accustomed to the swaying of the chain; after who knows how many tries, he finally managed to straddle the chain as if riding a horse, arms spread wide to keep his balance.

Overjoyed, Chen San called out, "Old man, old man, I made it up! Ha, I made it up!"

The old man smiled, opened his eyes, and said, "Your talent may not be the most exceptional, but it is certainly outstanding. A teachable young man indeed." With that, he slapped the chain, stood up, and leapt past Chen San. Muttering under his breath, a brilliant crimson whip appeared in his hand, which he used to steady Chen San as he led him forward. Though the slap hadn’t landed on Chen San, the chain rocked so much that Chen San fell off again.

Soon the old man reached the large iron ring at the center of the chain. The deeper they went, the more bottomless the abyss became. Chen San, peering down, grew increasingly anxious—not only in his heart but also battered by the growing wind that now made him sway precariously. He clung tightly to the rope, daring only quick glances downward before squeezing his eyes shut, breath coming in rapid gasps, muttering prayers for deliverance. At this point, they were as high as dozens of treetops above the slope, which was now far, far below him.

But the wind here was no ordinary wind. This chasm ran straight to the Netherworld, and the fierce gales above could shake one's very soul. Without the protection of arcane arts, one risked the soul's departure from the body or even utter annihilation. The chain below was shielded somewhat by the slope, making the wind here milder—incapable of destroying the soul, though enough to leave it unstable.

At the iron ring, the old man sat cross-legged and tossed Chen San beneath it, speaking in a solemn voice, "Now I will teach you the 'Mantra of the Vajra King to Anchor the Soul.' This incantation is recorded in ancient texts. Unlike the Daoist arts, it requires no foundation in sorcery, but it does demand a powerful soul to activate—this is not a Daoist spell."

Before the old man finished, Chen San wailed, "Are you sure I even have any soul power? Is there any point in me learning this?"

The old man replied coolly, "You didn’t have soul power before, but now you are elevating it. The strength of your soul depends on the limit of what your soul can bear. The deeper the art, the more the soul must endure. Without the body, your life soul can perceive the world without restriction; your awareness and capacity may reach a level even many cultivators cannot attain.

"What you must do now is open your senses as much as possible to the world. Let your soul fully experience and adapt to this consummate state. When you return to your body, your soul will then be strong enough to drive the Vajra King Soul-Anchoring Mantra. Only once you can wield this mantra will you be able to learn the arts I will teach you later.

"Though only an hour passed, your endurance has already grown greatly. In fifteen more hours, your life soul must rejoin your body’s other souls. Miss this chance, and you’ll never master such advanced arts in so short a time. Separating your soul came at a great price—I, this old Daoist, won’t be able to do it again for another decade or more. So you must learn it, whether you want to or not."

Chen San couldn’t tell if the old man was being truthful, but though the ghostly wind howled, his grip on the whip relaxed a little. He closed his eyes and carefully attuned his senses to his surroundings. In this soul-state, he soon perceived the clarity above him and the darkness below. The clarity in his mind expanded, and as his awareness grew, so too did his calm.

The old man closed his eyes and began to chant slowly: "Soul merges with heaven and earth, spirit disperses into the five elements; soul departs, spirit gathers; in the sea of soul, clarity reigns. Three souls unite in the body, seven spirits conjoin in the flesh; evil is banished, and clarity is preserved within me."

As the old man intoned the Vajra King Soul-Anchoring Mantra, Chen San clearly felt the absence in his soul and the distant tremors of his body's seven spirits. At this very moment, Chen Xin and Aunt Nian, who were watching over Chen San’s body, were struck by the surges of soul-force emanating from him—even though they couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause, Chen Xin, being closer, could feel a vague unease and the ripple of invisible waves.

Every half hour, the old man chanted the Soul-Anchoring Mantra—six times in total. Chen San, in turn, experienced the clarity brought by the mantra again and again. Gradually, his soul ceased drifting, seeming to grow heavier, and the ghostly winds no longer had much effect on him.

The old man opened his eyes and said calmly, "Have you remembered it?"

Chen San opened his eyes, now filled with greater clarity. Glancing down, he found himself far less afraid and nodded repeatedly.

"It seems you've progressed even faster than I expected. Let us save some time," the old man said. With that, he seized Chen San and strode toward the final iron ring. The wind grew ever stronger, but the old man moved as if on solid ground, while Chen San, face dark with dread, drifted like a kite in the gale.

At the final ring, the old man sat cross-legged once more. "Below here is no longer sacred ground; it leads straight to the Netherworld. The wind here will damage your soul to the utmost, but your soul, too, will gain the greatest possible enhancement. The future strength of your soul depends on how you fare on this ring. But if your life soul is scattered by the ghostly wind, even I cannot save you. Now, you must use the Vajra King Soul-Anchoring Mantra I just taught you to steady yourself.

"Remember, the stronger your soul, the stronger the mantra. The less harm the ghost wind can do. If you can climb up on your own and meditate cross-legged atop the ring for two hours without falling, your soul will be strong enough to support the arts to come."

The wind battered Chen San so fiercely he was barely recognizable, let alone able to heed the old man’s words. Though he had just learned the mantra, his soul was not yet strong enough to sustain it for long. The winds here were unlike those at the previous rings—without the shield of sacred ground, they could shred the soul, each gust cutting like a knife.

But what he felt was not pain, but weakness, as his soul was gradually torn away, the less soul remaining, the duller his senses became. Witnessing his soul’s disintegration, Chen San was terrified and began to recite the Soul-Anchoring Mantra over and over. Slowly, the sea of his soul grew clear, and he once again reached that consummate state.

This time, the clarity above him was utterly cloudless, and the gloom below receded. With each repetition of the mantra, his soul-sea grew brighter and the clear region within expanded like a rippling lake. After half an hour, his violent shaking ceased, the ghost wind no longer scattering his soul but flowing through him.

He could now truly sense the ghost wind threading through every part of his being. Opening his eyes, silently chanting the mantra, he began to climb upward. After just a few steps, he swung his leg onto the chain, vaulted himself onto the ring, and sat cross-legged to meditate. But it wasn’t as simple as he imagined.

Watching the old man sit as motionless as stone, Chen San assumed that as long as he steadied his soul, meditating would be easy. Yet after only a short while, a lapse in concentration sent him tumbling down. To his dismay, this happened again and again for a full hour—he just couldn’t stay up for long.

The old man, eyes closed, remarked languidly, "There’s only one way to succeed: gather all your energy, spirit, and focus into a single point and maintain it for a whole hour. Only then will you not fall."

Chen San was astonished—so that was why he kept falling, because he couldn’t maintain his focus. "Is there any special method to help me keep it for an hour?"

Still with closed eyes, the old man replied, "I have none. You must discover it for yourself."

With no choice, Chen San pursed his lips and resumed his seat atop the ring, silently chanting the mantra over and over, trying again and again. As time passed, he gradually sensed, as the old man had said, his soul beginning to merge with the very air around him. The ghost wind seemed to still, time itself seemed to halt, and his heightened awareness faded away—everything stopped.

After a long time, the old man said, "Not bad, not bad. You’ve already grasped it and grown accustomed. Though it took you over three hours, you’ve glimpsed the unity of spirit and soul. No need to waste more time. Get up, we’re heading back."

With that, the old man rose as if walking on solid ground, unhurriedly making his way back. Chen San gripped the chain, stood up, and as he set his foot down, golden ripples spread beneath him, steady as a mountain beneath a thousand pounds. He was taken aback, swallowed hard, and followed the old man back through the stone wall to the bamboo hut. The monkey child leapt onto the old man’s shoulder, and he settled at the table while Chen San stared in disbelief at the ripples beneath his feet.

Pouring himself a pot of tea, the old man said, "You now have enough soul power to sustain the Soul-Anchoring Mantra. We have nine hours left. In these nine hours, you must learn another technique. The Soul-Anchoring Mantra is only a prerequisite; what you truly need to master is the secret art I’ve synthesized from various Daoist methods—the ‘Invocation of the Spirit’ technique.

"But my Invocation differs greatly from the Daoist one. In Daoist practice, the Invocation is performed through incantations and steps, using the mind to sense the powerful spirit of an ancestral master, inviting it to descend and empower the practitioner with a portion of that ancestor’s might. Yet, in the end, this is merely a Daoist art—one that bridges yin and yang, but at a price: practitioners must suffer the Five Weaknesses and Three Deficiencies. My Invocation requires no such bridge, but has one prerequisite: you must achieve unity of spirit and soul. Through your spirit, you will sense the soul or spirit of the living, inviting it into your body. Even if they are thousands of miles away, should you succeed, the invoked soul can use most of its Daoist powers through you to ward off demons and evil spirits—without you having to bear the Five Weaknesses and Three Deficiencies."

Chen San was delighted at the prospect of avoiding the Five Weaknesses and Three Deficiencies, a fate said to befall all Daoists since childhood, but a question arose: how does one sense whose spirit to invoke? So he asked.

The old Daoist smiled. "You can only sense and seek my spirit. The spirits of others might be friend or foe. Unity of spirit and soul is not exclusive to the righteous—anyone who cultivates deeply enough can attain it. So do not recklessly seek or invoke unfamiliar souls unless absolutely necessary.

"If you ever use the Invocation, it will be in dire circumstances, so do not take risks. As for how to recognize my spirit, that is one of the purposes of your next nine hours of training. In this time, you must master the invocation technique and become familiar with sensing my spirit."

Hearing this, Chen San’s expression grew solemn. Realizing time was short, he said earnestly, "Then what are we waiting for? Let’s begin!"

The old man flicked a finger at his forehead, making Chen San wince and clutch his head. "Could you not wait for me to finish my tea?" Chen San looked at the old man with a wounded expression, clutching his head, and waited for him to finish his tea.

The old man, utterly composed, set down his cup and said, "Right now, your life soul is unbound by the body, allowing your perception to reach consummate level due to your unique state. Once you return to your body, your senses will be limited by your physical senses and you’ll be like an ordinary person again.

"But the training you underwent in the Valley of Ghost Winds was only possible because of this unique state. In this short time, you’ve already glimpsed the unity of spirit and soul—a realm I spent decades to reach. Once you have achieved this, you will be able to sense my spirit in this world, even after returning to your body. Whether you can find my spirit will depend on the strength of your own spirit."

Before the old man could finish, Chen San wanted to interject, but the old man raised his hand, threatening to knock him on the head again. Chen San hastily shut his mouth and gestured for the old man to continue, grumbling inwardly, "The old fox can talk for ages, but won’t let me get a word in."

The old man put his hand down and continued, "Now that you’ve attained unity of spirit and soul, what did you sense?"

Chen San thought for a moment. "I just felt as if I’d merged with the air around me, everything stopped and grew vast. When I was used to the consummate state, I could feel the clarity above and the netherworld below, but after achieving unity, that feeling was gone."

The old man nodded slowly. "The senses at the consummate state and at the state of spirit and soul are different. In the consummate state, you can feel all things in heaven and earth, except for people and spirits. In the spirit-soul realm, you can only sense spirits and spiritual thoughts. You’ve only just begun to grasp this realm; your unity is not yet strong enough to fully sense spirits. In short, you’re not yet familiar enough with this state."

He stood and walked to the bamboo window, murmured a few words to a gourd hanging there, then bit his finger, formed a hand seal, and smeared his blood on a dark purple talisman. He turned to Chen San. "Inside this gourd is a wisp of my spiritual thought. Once you’re inside, focus and sense it. When you can perceive my spiritual thought, you’ll be able to sense spirits."

Before Chen San could fully comprehend this, the gourd sucked him inside with a swoosh. The monkey child giggled and capped the gourd. Perhaps because his soul had endured the ordeal in the Valley of Ghost Winds, Chen San did not lose consciousness this time, though he still found himself in utter darkness.

He called for the old man several times but got no response. He wanted to complain, but in such an environment, anyone with a mind would eventually be consumed by fear and madness if left too long in endless darkness. The terror would only grow and magnify. Chen San was no different—if his body were here, he might well have wet himself.

After a long while, Chen San calmed down. He knew the old man wanted him to sense spiritual thought, but he knew no spells except the Soul-Anchoring Mantra, so he sat cross-legged and recited it. Eyes closed, it was black as pitch, no different than before. The mantra, of course, didn’t directly let him perceive spiritual thought, but with each repetition, he again entered the state of unity of spirit and soul.

Inside the gourd, nothing could distract him—only the wisp of spiritual thought left by the old man. The old man’s intention was to let Chen San clearly learn what spiritual thought was. As Chen San grew accustomed to the state of unity, his perception of spirits and spiritual thoughts grew more adept. Though the darkness remained, now and then a faint flicker of gold would drift nearby.

Chen San guessed this must be the old man’s spiritual thought. Gradually, his perception expanded to cover its location. For the first time, Chen San truly sensed and touched spiritual thought with his soul.

The instant he touched it, the spiritual thought vanished, and before he could wonder why, he tumbled out in a heap. Getting up, he saw it was the monkey child, holding the gourd’s lid, while the old man sat smiling at the tea table.

Chen San sprang up in excitement. "That faint golden light just now—was that your spiritual thought?"

The old man nodded. "Spiritual thought, too, has strengths and weaknesses. My cultivation is limited, so what I leave behind cannot compare to the Daoist ancestors’ thoughts, which could be studied by disciples or even take possession to help them subdue demons. My skills are meager—just having my spiritual thought last until you touched it was no small feat. Since you’ve done it, let’s start training the final Invocation technique."

Now, let us speak of Daoist Wang. More than a day had passed since he’d set out for the mountain. This forest stretched boundlessly for hundreds of acres—much of it untouched by human presence. The hunters from Chen Family Town rarely ventured beyond its outskirts, for the deep woods were home to fierce beasts, and the distances made long journeys difficult for the villagers.

Daoist Wang only braved the mountain in search of a reclusive master, compelled by the troubles plaguing Chen Family Town and Chen San. But the whereabouts of this master were unknown—only a rumor among local elders. Once, when helping villagers seek auspicious burial sites, Daoist Wang had observed the forest from above and realized, by chance, that its geomancy formed a pattern of coiling dragon and crouching tiger. This insight made him believe in the possible existence of a hidden master.

Though skilled in geomancy and divination, Daoist Wang knew the one he sought was no ordinary person. For a master of yin-yang arts, disappearing into the mountains was all too easy, but Wang was not without hope. Because of the special configuration of dragon’s eyes and tiger’s gaze within the forest, he knew that if he could locate the four most auspicious spots—where the dragon’s eyes and tiger’s gaze fell—he would surely find the master at one of these four points.

As for the various yin-yang arts and barriers the master might have set, Daoist Wang could only hope to rely on the most primitive methods to find a way through.