nucmednet Chapter 82 The Taoist Priest Peeks into the Dao, and the Earth Shakes.
Chapter 82 The Taoist Priest Peeks into the Dao, and the Earth Shakes.
Chapter 82 The Taoist Priest Peeks into the Dao, and the Earth Shakes.
"Hmm, what are you doing?"
Chang Mingzi hid in a grove of trees on the hillside, his figure surrounded by a thin mist, making him indistinct to outsiders. After all, he was the leader of a sect, so it was one thing to act furtively, but if he were discovered, it would have a bad impact if word got out.
The old Taoist priest held a monocular telescope in his hand. This object, also known in the martial arts world as a telescope or a telescope, was an observation tool developed by the disciples of the ancient Mohist school.
He held the binoculars in front of his right eye, squinted at his left, and made a scrunched-up face, appearing to be slightly grimacing.
From this distance, you can clearly see the scenery in the valley.
His most accomplished disciple, Qinghong, stood on the roof of the dilapidated temple, resembling a golden rooster standing on one leg, like a mythical beast.
Qinghong's body swayed like a willow branch in the autumn wind of the valley. One hand was behind his back, and the other hand was raised with a sword finger in front of him. It seemed that a piece of black paper was held between his fingertips, and he stared at it intently.
This inexplicable behavior has continued for a long time without any change, leaving the old Taoist priest completely baffled.
Chang Mingzi moved the camera to look at the fields by the stream. He saw Lin Zhuo, who looked like a lazy and dull ox, working in the field. His movements were slow and he was almost invisible unless you looked closely. But if you didn't look at him for a while and then looked back, you would find that he had already shaped a large area of land.
"My disciple appears to be moving but is actually still, while Young Hero Lin appears to be still but is actually moving. There's something to it. Could this be some special cultivation technique? It's truly profound. Hmm, let me take another look at what that spirit beast cat is doing."
The old Taoist priest moved the camera left and right, searching for Jin Xiaohu's whereabouts. Finally, he found it wearing a small straw hat, huddled together with the white-haired female Taoist priest, intently watching a clay pot on the ground. There seemed to be small black dots jumping and bumping around in the pot.
"This is... cricket fighting?" Chang Mingzi found it quite absurd. He had seen cricket fighting before, but this was the first time he had seen a kitten playing this game with a person.
Autumn is the season when crickets are most active. People often go to the fields to catch crickets and let them fight each other in pots and pans, finding amusement in this. From powerful figures and wealthy families to beggars, even martial arts masters mostly enjoy this activity.
"It seems even spirit beasts can't resist this kind of fun; cricket fighting is truly a treasure of the human world," Chang Mingzi thought to himself.
He had originally planned to leave, but out of curiosity about the outcome of the cricket fight, he lingered a little longer.
Then they saw Jin Xiaohu looking dejected, reluctantly pulling out a few fresh fish as a wager and handing them to the smiling Kun Dao. The old woman took the fish, put away the crickets, and hurried to the kitchen stove with small steps.
"Ha, it lost!" Chang Mingzi stroked his beard and laughed. "But how did this spirit beast manage to produce such large fish out of thin air?"
Could it be some kind of magical trickery, a hidden power within a sleeve? Oh, what is this cat up to now?
Jin Xiaohu, fuming, pulled out a gong and started banging it. Hearing the sound, Qinghong, who was pretending to be a roof beast on the roof, jumped down, and Lin Zhuo, who was working like a beast of burden in the fields, got up and went to the stream to wash his hands and face. He also gathered around Jin Xiaohu.
Upon seeing this, Chang Mingzi's spirits lifted, and he watched with bated breath.
Through the telescope, Qinghong and Lin Zhuo exchanged clasped hands and bowed to each other, then without saying a word, they started fighting.
"Hmm, that young hero Lin knocked my disciple to the ground; he must be giving me a lesson in martial arts. Very good, very good. With such a diligent disciple, I can finally rest assured—wait, am I seeing things?"
Chang Mingzi put down the binoculars, rubbed his presbyopia, and then leaned closer to take a look.
In the scene, Lin Zhuo and Qing Hong resumed their sparring after a short rest. As soon as they started, Qing Hong seemed to transform into a wisp of breeze. Although his outline was still human, he appeared to be an elusive, colorless, and unpredictable flowing energy.
The old Taoist priest's heart skipped a beat. "This is a method of bewitching the mind and confusing the spirit! How brilliant! When did my disciple learn such a skill?"
He continued to observe, and saw that Lin Zhuo had suddenly transformed into a stubborn rock.
Although it was clearly two martial artists exchanging blows and kicks, fighting fiercely, to outsiders it looked like a gentle breeze blowing and patting around the rock.
Chang Mingzi had never seen such a wondrous illusion technique before. Usually, bewitching martial arts use sound as a medium to transmit mysterious true energy, disturbing the listener's seven emotions and six desires, or use mysterious true energy to shroud the body, interfere with light, and create illusory phantoms to confuse the opponent's vision.
At this moment, even though they were separated by a distance of about a mile, these two people caused Chang Mingzi to experience a hallucination. It was clearly neither a demonic sound nor a seductive allure, but a completely new method that could be called a supernatural power.
"Hiss—could the true color of heaven and earth that Qinghong spoke of earlier be this kind of extraordinary skill?"
As evening approached, Qinghong returned to the Sword Sect's headquarters and reported his experiences to his master. Chang Mingzi then asked in a wonderfully casual tone, "Disciple, have you learned any extraordinary skills?"
"That's exactly right. Master Lin never hoards his knowledge; he not only imparts everything he knows but also guides you meticulously. Today, I have finally grasped the essence of the talisman!"
Qinghong stretched out his palm, and beneath the skin of his palm, divine veins flowed like dragons and snakes, intertwining to form a strange talisman, which came into Changmingzi's view through the texture of his skin.
"A talisman? What is this?"
"The essence of the Great Dao, the movement of primordial energy, the spirit of all things! It reveals all the laws of heaven and earth, and all supernatural powers originate from it! Master, your disciple has seen the Dao and entered the Dao!"
"Such a thing is true—" Chang Mingzi was even more puzzled after listening to Qing Hong's long explanation. "The saying goes, 'The secrets of the art are not to be passed on to six ears.' Even my White Egret Sword Sect carefully selects its disciples. That young hero Lin, no, Grandmaster Lin, really passed on such a unique skill to you so easily?"
"Teacher Lin and I learned from each other in teaching."
Qinghong explained that they can share their insights on talismans through sparring and competition, conveying them to each other heart to heart.
So every hour, Jin Xiaohu would bang a gong and shout to summon them over to fight.
This young Taoist priest was carefree and thus close to the primordial energy of wind and clouds, belonging to the category of Qian (Heaven). Lin Zhuo, on the other hand, was close to the primordial energy of earth and stone, belonging to the category of Kun (Earth). Both of them could learn from each other's strengths to make up for their own weaknesses.
"Is that so?" Chang Mingzi asked curiously, raising his hand to beckon, "Come, disciple, spar with your master and let me experience it."
Qinghong said, "This disciple has been reckless. Please forgive me, Master." He then immediately assumed a fighting stance.
Chang Mingzi was convinced that he and his eldest disciple had been master and disciple for many years, and their relationship was like that of father and son. He believed that they would be able to understand each other perfectly and personally feel the mysterious divine meaning of the talisman.
However, when they sparred, their fighting spirits clashed and their wills clashed. Even though the fight was incredibly exciting, it was like a storm raging and waves crashing against the cliffs. They would unite and then separate, unable to coexist.
"No, no, Master. This feeling is completely different from Master Lin's." Qinghong took the initiative to beg for mercy.
"What's different?" Chang Mingzi was equally confused. Although he had seen his disciple's figure transform into a gentle breeze up close, he still couldn't grasp the divine intent.
"Master, your heart is like a fierce and valiant iron horse and icy river. Although I admire and yearn for it, I find it difficult to emulate it. Master Lin's heart is as vast as the sky, encompassing all things, and as warm as a hearth fire, comforting people's hearts."
"When I spar with him, I am always unconsciously captivated. Afterwards, my breathing resonates with his, and our true energy flows together, allowing us to enter into a state of profound and ineffable understanding. Many indescribable insights can then be conveyed to each other."
Chang Mingzi frowned, thinking to himself, "It sounds like the initiation secret method of the Western Great Heroic Demonic Sect. But the initiation secret method is cruel and vicious, heretical, and its practice distorts human nature. Those demonic sect brats need to wholeheartedly identify with their master in order to fully accept the spiritual wisdom poured into them. This is completely different from what Qing Hong said."
The old Taoist remained silent, but looking at his eldest disciple's words, his recognition and admiration for Lin Zhuo were genuine. If things continued like this, could it be that the dignified true disciple of the White Egret Sword Sect, the number one of the Qing generation, was about to be lured away by an outsider?
After much deliberation, Chang Mingzi decided to have Qinghong suspend his cultivation and return to observe him for a few days.
Just then, Qinghong, who had been talking incessantly, suddenly mentioned something that startled the old Taoist priest.
"Master Lin once said that if the talismans could be combined into a restriction, there would be hope of averting the heavenly calamity."
"What?!" Chang Mingzi was so shocked that he ripped out two hairs from his beard. "Is this true?!"
"Master Lin never deceives his disciples; a man of his stature would not stoop to empty talk."
Chang Mingzi paced back and forth, his mind in turmoil.
A voice in his mind urged him to quickly seek out Lin Zhuo for guidance, to pay any price to obtain a way to avoid disaster and calamity, for the opportunity for the White Egret Sword Sect to prosper for eternity was right before his eyes.
Another voice said: This Lin Zhuo is mysterious and unpredictable, with strange methods. If we go to him, the Bailu Sword Sect's thousand-year foundation may change hands. We must not do this. We should ask him to leave immediately and cut off all communication.
"Master—Master—what's wrong?"
Unconsciously, Chang Mingzi walked to the entrance of the main hall, with one foot already halfway across the threshold. The night sky before him was calm and peaceful, but in his eyes it was as if he were standing on the edge of an abyss, where one wrong step would lead to eternal damnation.
"Qinghong".
"Disciple is here."
"Go and find some talented and upright disciples within the sect. Starting tomorrow, have them accompany you to seek instruction in talismanic arts from Master Lin. This matter—do not let your uncles know about it."
"Your disciple obeys!"
After seeing his eldest disciple off in a hurry, Chang Mingzi turned to look at the portraits of past sect leaders deep in the main hall. The candlelight flickered, reflecting on the faces of the figures in the paintings. In the warm orange light, they seemed to be happy or angry, worried or afraid, as if encouraging or rebuking.
The old Taoist priest closed his eyes and sighed, "My ancestors above—"
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