Lu Zhao was at a loss for words.
On concrete questions the old Taoist was a good teacher, able to tease things apart layer by layer until Lu Zhao understood. But the moment a subject touched on "the Dao," everything turned vague and evasive; the man loved talking in riddles.
Lu Zhao didn't know whether all immortals were like this. Some of the riddles jolted him awake; most he couldn't puzzle out, and then the old Taoist would invariably say, "When your cultivation reaches that stage, you'll understand naturally." Perhaps that was simply the difference between ancient and modern ways of teaching.
"Since this era's life-force development is itself life cultivation, this poor Taoist need not go over it again."
The old Taoist returned to the main subject and said, "Such cultivation is wrong."
A single short sentence — yet it struck Lu Zhao just as his own words about a country without a ruler had struck the old Taoist the day before.
Lu Zhao's brow furrowed slightly, and he pushed back: "The modern era is more powerful than any dynasty before it, and life-force developers number dozens of times more, at the very least."
The old Taoist asked in return: "Powerful how?"
"Our dynasty rose out of the chaos of war; a hundred years ago it pacified all under heaven, and now it looks out upon the world..."
Lu Zhao's grasp of modern history was solid, and he was a living witness to the passing of two eras.
After the Zhu Ming dynasty, the land of Shenzhou had been in turmoil for several hundred years. But because transcendent powers like the Tiangang and Disha had never been lost, it had always kept a place near the front in martial strength, and during the brief unifications that arose in between it had even managed to expand outward.
Then the Federation appeared. As the fourth power after the Fourth Rome, France, and the Northern Commonwealth, it had risen steadily through war in the Far East until it became the undisputed hegemon.
In all times and all lands, the Federation's power was without precedent. Even after the decline that followed the Cataclysm, it still held most of its core territory, and it was stronger than the Zhu Ming dynasty had been.
As for superhumans, there was no comparison at all. The strong whom modern industry's productivity could sustain — in numbers and in quality alike — stood on an entirely different level. Not to mention that modern firearms were far more advanced than those of the Ming.
Lu Zhao drew the comparisons one by one, from territory to military strength. He had never followed blindly, and he would not take the old Taoist's words as gospel truth.
The old Taoist listened quietly to the end, nodded, and said with approval, "The Yan Dynasty is indeed flourishing — it loses nothing to the High Tang. The Martial Marquises you speak of today are not inferior to the strong of any past dynasty. But this poor Taoist has only one question."
He paused, his voice clear and resolute: "Can it win immortality?"
Lu Zhao countered: "Through all the ages, of all the emperors and great ministers, how many ever won immortality?"
The old Taoist pointed at himself. His usual air of unruffled calm was gone, and the smile on his face made him look like a mischievous old boy.
"Through all the ages, those who won immortality have not been few — but this poor Taoist has lived the longest of them all."
Lu Zhao had no answer, and the will to argue left him. His "powerful" meant the collective; the old Taoist's meant the individual. In the matter of life-force development, Lu Zhao really ought to defer to him.
The Federation had two hundred years of history, and to this day not one Ancient God had appeared.
He said, "By your account, Daoist, the modern life-force development system merely cannot win immortality — it is not itself wrong."
The old Taoist said, "Heaven and Earth grant you your form, and with such a form it is easy to gain the strength to order heaven and weave earth. But Heaven and Earth veil a single thread of your vital energy, and so completeness is hard to reach.
"Cultivating one's nature is for breaking free of the rules Heaven has decreed and attaining completeness. But you, layman, are not only trapped by Heaven and Earth — you are also troubled by mortal desires."
Something dawned on Lu Zhao, and he asked, "How does one break free?"
The old Taoist answered: "'Without desire' means without the body's desires; 'without seeking' means without the world's pursuits. When you no longer take the body as your desire, nor worldly things as your pursuit, that is the Great Vehicle."
Lu Zhao sank into thought again. What the old Taoist wanted was for him to give up all mortal wants — and that meant giving up the convictions he had held fast to all this time.
For a psychic superhuman like Lu Zhao, conviction was the same as a heartbeat. A man without conviction would soon drown in the tsunami of the spirit and become a raving madman.
His experiences in his previous life had let him carry great righteousness in his heart, fearless of life and death; his birth and family in this life had given him a love for the Federation.
Certain things had angered him, certain people had disgusted him — but he had never once believed he should cast off the country that had raised him.
What the old Taoist was saying now was plainly meant to make him renounce the world.
Lu Zhao gave a slight shake of his head. "Forgive me, but I cannot accept that."
The old Taoist showed no surprise or anger. With kindly brows and gentle eyes he said, "Layman, there is no need to rush. People hold different ideas at different ages. Perhaps after some time passes, you will see it another way. Those who cultivate the Dao in search of immortality must walk alone in the end — even this poor Taoist cannot decide for you."
With that, just as before, he drew an ancient book with a green cover from his sleeve, its title two characters in small seal script.
Its name: Refining the Spirit.
Lu Zhao asked, "Does cultivating this technique require a Fate Bone?"
"Having one doubles the results for half the effort, but it can be done without," the old Taoist replied. "You already have a fine foundation, layman. That Fate Bone is not a necessity."
Lu Zhao said at once, "Then I would like to gift it to you, Daoist. Is there a way to bring it here?"
At first the man had said the bone benefited the soul, and later that it was no necessity — so would it also be useful to the old Taoist? If it was, Lu Zhao ought to raise it himself.
It would repay a debt of kindness and help keep their relationship on good terms. And once the Fate Bone was brought here, it would not fall into private hands — and so naturally it would not endanger social stability.
It was one fish served two ways.
"Good."
The old Taoist gave him a look of some approval and said, "This thing is of no great use to me, but it can add something to this Primordial."
The delight between his brows could not be faked.
Lu Zhao had begun to get a measure of the old Taoist's ways. This was a riddler who liked making others guess.
-----
May 28th.
Lu Zhao woke at five in the morning. When he opened his eyes, the sky outside was still a murky gray, and two new memories had been added to his head.
One was Refining the Spirit; the other was the oral formula for sending the Fate Bone into the Primordial — though it could carry only the Fate Bone.
Bringing things into the mental world was equally unheard of. In the old Taoist's words: "Tiangang and Disha are the Dao fruit of heaven and earth; through the exchange of void and real, they may enter the Primordial."
Otherwise, Lu Zhao would have liked to bring the old Taoist some modern specialties and broaden the "old ancestor's" horizons.
"Let's try it first."
Lu Zhao sat up cross-legged, unable to wait. Just as with refining essence into qi, he grasped Refining the Spirit at the first touch.
The old Taoist had never said so outright, but Lu Zhao had good reason to suspect an initiation — otherwise a method this simple would surely have been passed down through the ages.
He closed his eyes for three quarters of an hour, and the stray thoughts in his consciousness slowly settled.
A pool of lake water appeared. Yesterday's anger and resentment, today's scheming, tomorrow's hopes all rose to the surface in turn, and stray thoughts leapt at him like fish.
He swallowed the stray thoughts. The pain was fierce, like swallowing needles, and sweat beaded on his forehead. But with every "needle" he swallowed, his spirit grew a little more solid.
Refining the Spirit carries fire; practicing it is like being scorched by flame.
Lu Zhao opened his eyes. He had wrung out most of his psychic power; a wisp of white light flashed through his eyes, and in the void there now swam a wandering white worm.
It was invisible to the naked eye and could only be found by probing with psychic power.
Faint, half-formed memories surfaced in his mind, letting Lu Zhao understand what this little white worm was for.
Psychic attack!
His divine power had originally possessed only two functions — telekinesis and detection. Now it had gained a direct means of attack.
Chapter 13