A Gift from the Juluo Tree

Venerable Muling rarely meddled in administrative affairs, devoting his mind entirely to quiet cultivation. Yet his cultivation was said to surpass even that of the sect master. In his twilight years, his hair turning white, he delved exhaustively into the classics, mastering the art of divination and rectifying many calculation principles that had fallen into chaotic disarray since the great cataclysm between heaven and earth. Regrettably, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth gradually waned, mortal kingdoms began their ascent, and the Dahuan Sect never regained its former peak of glory. No matter how profound Venerable Muling's cultivation grew, he ultimately could not outlast the cruel hands of time. The phrase he uttered most often was, "Time waits for no man." At last, the day came when he was about to pass away in meditation beneath the Dao-Seeking Tree. His disciples wept, choked with grief. Venerable Muling smiled. "I was fortunate. Had I been born in later generations, I fear I would not have had the chance to depart in such peace." The disciples hurriedly asked why. Venerable Muling said, "Sects, like people, experience rises and falls, births and demises. I have observed our sect's fortune: a little over a millennium is its limit. That is already a longevity rare in this world, and many exceptional talents will emerge along the way." Unwilling to accept this, a disciple asked, "Master, our immortal sect has already dwindled to a mere Daoist order. Must we truly vanish along with the spiritual energy in the future?" "Perhaps the world will sink into oblivion, or perhaps fortune will turn after reaching the very nadir." Venerable Muling stroked the trunk of the Dao-Seeking Tree. "Old friend, you know what I wish to say." A leaf immediately drifted down from the Dao-Seeking Tree, golden-red like the glow of evening clouds. Venerable Muling bit his fingertip and wrote several lines across the broad leaf: "Encounter Huan, leave your dwelling." "A single leaf blinds the eye." "Dongli enters the waters of Kan." Not only did they have neither head nor tail, but they did not even rhyme. The disciples looked on, utterly bewildered. "Master, does it not seem as though a line is missing?" Shouldn't a prophetic verse have four lines? There were only three here; where was the remaining one? Leaving people hanging like this was excruciating. "I could not fathom any more," Venerable Muling sighed. "If only Dongli were here. He could have helped me deliberate and cross-check; perhaps we might have seen more accurately, seen farther." The crowd murmured, none daring to respond. "Though he fell into the demonic path, the day will come when he wakes and returns. I will wait for him here." Venerable Muling pointed forward with one hand. "They are young folk; they must be allowed to make mistakes." The disciples exchanged glances, a retort held back in their hearts: *Dongli isn't young anymore, all right?* Venerable Muling blew gently upon the leaf, and a disciple stepped forward, preparing to receive it. After their master's passing, these lines of parting verse were to be enshrined and venerated. Unexpectedly, Venerable Muling drew his hand back and tossed the leaf into the pool beneath the tree. The golden-red leaf swirled twice upon the water's surface, and before anyone could react, it sank to the bottom and vanished into the darkness. Everyone was stunned. Venerable Muling said mildly, "What are you reaching out for? That was not meant for you." If not them, then whom did Master intend it for? Why refuse to leave such a crucial deathbed prophecy to his own sect? "Then what will become of our sect after a millennium?" "Tend well to the mountain spirits, and perhaps disaster may be averted—yet I fear you will then have the will, but lack the strength." Venerable Muling's breath was already growing faint. "Such is the time, such is fate!" He muttered softly once more: "A pity. Exhausting a lifetime of effort, I could deduce only this much. Beyond that... beyond that, it will depend on yourself." Another disciple seized the moment to ask, "Venerable One, are there truly any immortals left in the world?" "Does our sect still have immortal predecessors in seclusion?" The Dahuan Sect was one of the mightiest sects surviving from ancient times. If even this place held no immortals, how many could possibly remain in the world? Yet Venerable Muling's eyes drifted half-shut, and he answered no more. Only then did everyone realize that he had already passed away in meditation. *** Everything before his eyes grew faint. When He Lingchuan gathered his senses, he found that not only had his perspective shifted, but the scenery had also changed. Tianji Peak and the Dao-Seeking Tree were gone entirely, and he was once again standing within Panlong City. What had just happened? He stood right at the familiar edge of South Gate Square, directly before that Juluo tree. "Huh? The leaves changed color?" The Juluo tree possessed one additional golden-red leaf, standing out distinctly like a highlighted streak across a person's forehead. Furthermore, the Juluo tree had grown larger again; He Lingchuan had to crane his neck to see its canopy. He patted the trunk. "So you ate the leaf from the Dao-Seeking Tree, did you? Was it exceptionally nutritious?" A gust of wind blew by, setting the Juluo tree's canopy rustling softly, as though it were replying to him. At least, He Lingchuan could not understand it. Yet that golden-red leaf actually fluttered down, drifting right into his hands. "For me?" He turned the leaf over and over, examining it. Its shape differed slightly from the original Dao-Seeking Tree leaf, but it too was the size of a palm. Even the veins were golden, without a single insect blemish or scorched edge, as exquisite as a piece of handicraft. Was this a return gift from the Juluo tree? "Thanks!" He tucked the leaf into his lapel and patted the trunk again. "Quite sensible. Not like the Dafang Pot, which only takes things in and never gives anything back—lazy and gluttonous." The following morning, He Lingchuan awoke on the large bed in Panshan Residence, staring blankly for a long while. He had actually dreamed of something else! For nearly a year, this was the very first time he had dreamed of anywhere outside Panlong City. Tears nearly welled in his eyes. He had assumed his soul would never be able to travel anywhere else at night or dream any other dream again! Of course, once he calmed down, he realized that this dream was connected to the golden-red leaf of the Dao-Seeking Tree he had obtained yesterday. What occupies the mind by day enters the dreams by night. Could it be that because he fed the leaf to the divine bone necklace, the Dafang Pot displayed the information sealed within the leaf to him at night? What a formidable card reader. Wait, so in the end, this dream was still connected to the Dafang Pot! He Lingchuan closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He truly could not escape its clutches. Reflecting carefully upon the dream's contents, however, he had witnessed excerpts from the life of the Dao-Seeking Tree. He considered them excerpts likely because the tree had survived for an immense span of time, spanning the ancient, medieval, and present eras—at least four thousand years in total. Too much time had passed, and too many events had unfolded. If every detail occurring around it had to be displayed to He Lingchuan, his soul might not have been resilient enough to bear such a massive volume of memories. Having entered dreams for so long, He Lingchuan understood the tolerance of his own soul reasonably well—after all, it had undergone plenty of forced trailblazing and conditioning by the Dafang Pot. Perhaps it was the Dao-Seeking Tree itself, or perhaps the Dafang Pot, that had filtered the memories to present only the most critical milestones. As for the name Venerable Muling, He Lingchuan certainly remembered it. Wasn't that Master Dongli's master? In the cave dwelling beneath Xianling Lake, Master Dongli had left behind a posthumous letter repenting his fall into the demonic path and lamenting that he had failed the nurturing of his revered master, Venerable Muling. Otherwise, He Lingchuan would not have followed that lead all the way into Mount Xu. Fortunately, it had not been entirely in vain. Within the Dao-Seeking Tree's memories, he had glimpsed the otherworldly grace of countless immortals, seen sect disciples of the era of longevity who remained untainted by the mortal world to devote themselves purely to cultivation, and even felt the same joy as the tree amidst surging spiritual energy and thriving vitality. That had indeed been the finest era for practitioners. The medieval era had not been bad either. Although the spiritual energy of heaven and earth waxed and waned, and the Emperor's Flowing Dew descended frequently, causing discomfort to cultivators, powerful figures like Venerable Muling had still lived for more than eight hundred years. His disciple, Master Dongli, had lived for only six hundred. Moving forward in time, the lifespans of both demons and mortals had dwindled further and further. Naturally, what He Lingchuan truly cared about were the three lines of verse Venerable Muling had inscribed upon the golden-red leaf. He had not left them to his sect, but tossed them back to the Dao-Seeking Tree, letting the fallen leaf return to its roots. The elders earlier had said that while mortal bodies decay, the Dao-Seeking Tree endures. Could those lines have been left for someone in the future? After all, only the tree could span millennia of time to survive to this day. Come to think of it, whether it was Venerable Muling or the old turtle demon who took Master Dongli's *Passing Waters Collection*, both had left behind prophecies of three lines! Always missing the final line. Truly cut from the very same cloth. He Lingchuan grasped the divine bone necklace and said, "How about you interpret it for me?" The necklace, of course, paid him no heed. As he touched the necklace, he felt something unusual within his robe. Reaching in to pull it out, he blinked— Out came a golden-red leaf. He Lingchuan froze on the spot. The Juluo tree's leaf had actually followed him into reality? Of course, the Juluo tree possessed the ability to traverse the Azure Void; He Lingchuan had even used its branches to bring out the nightmare for some diversion. But for the little tree to take such initiative was seemingly a first. *Hmm, a leaf...* He Lingchuan rubbed the leaf, recalling one of the lines from Venerable Muling's prophecy: "A single leaf blinds the eye." He held the leaf before his eyes. Was this how it was meant to be used? Aside from blocking the light, it did not seem to block anything at all. Even as a leaf from the Juluo tree, it possessed no ripples of supernatural power. Aside from its fine appearance, it was no different from an ordinary leaf. It was hard to imagine that the adepts of the Dahuan Sect in the past had used leaves of the Dao-Seeking Tree to ward off the divine powers of the great demon Mulian. Never mind. Perhaps this leaf would come in handy later. He tried to put it away into his storage ring, only for the attempt to fail. *Eh?* *It won't go in?* Just then, a servant arrived to report: A visitor had come calling. He Lingchuan slipped the leaf back into his lapel. "Show him in." The visitor appeared just under forty, with an elongated face and a goatee that made him look somewhat aged. In short, he was an ordinary man—plain-looking, plainly dressed, the kind who would vanish the moment he stepped into a crowd. He introduced himself as Shan Qixiang, sent by the Marquis of Songyang. He Lingchuan received him in his own courtyard. "Are you a steward of Songyang Mansion?" "Oh, not quite. When the Songyang branch opened, I lent a hand, but I don't work within the branch, nor do I have formal ties to Songyang Mansion." Shan Qixiang smiled, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Her Ladyship once saved my family, so we've kept in touch ever since. She mentioned you were short of hands here, so I came. You can just call me Old Shan." Li Qingge had indeed said she would send someone to him, though he had not expected the person to arrive so quickly. Before He Lingchuan could ask anything further, Old Shan presented a grappling cord with both hands. "This is yours. The claw has already been repaired; Her Ladyship instructed me to deliver it to you." This grappling cord had been damaged when He Lingchuan captured the snail-toad in Zhitian Township. The claw, forged by Li Fubo from fine metal, had fractured under the combined force of the snail-toad and the explosion. Though he possessed spares, none handled quite as smoothly as this one. He Lingchuan took it and smiled. This item served as a token of trust, subtly confirming that Old Shan was indeed dispatched by Li Qingge and could be employed without hesitation.