Chapter Ten: Demoted

As Jiang Pingchuan turned to leave with Jiang Xingtian, a thunderous boom erupted behind them, shaking the ground violently. At the same time, they heard Yan Qingxia’s voice. The grandfather and grandson turned to look at him.

What first met their eyes was not Yan Qingxia himself, but the enormous ancient gate behind him—the grand doors of the Sutra Repository were slowly opening. Yan Qingxia watched the scene before him in shock. He had guarded this place for years and had never encountered such a situation. If he didn’t know the Sutra Repository better than anyone, he might have suspected the doors themselves had malfunctioned. As he gazed in disbelief at Jiang Xingtian and Jiang Pingchuan standing bewildered at the bottom of the steps, Yan Qingxia pondered for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.

“May I ask, Master Yan, why you called us back?” Jiang Xingtian asked, turning with Jiang Pingchuan to face Yan Qingxia, who stood on the stone steps, smiling. The reason the two had come was to allow Jiang Pingchuan to enter the Sutra Repository and study the Dao. Yet, on the Nine-Dragon Spirit Platform, Jiang Pingchuan had failed to evoke even the slightest phenomenon. In truth, both Jiang Xingtian and Yan Qingxia had anticipated such an outcome—they could not fathom how Jiang Pingchuan could leap from a body still bound by physical limitations to the second stage of Qi Cultivation.

What puzzled Jiang Pingchuan most was that no vision had appeared on the Spirit Platform; now, seeing the Sutra Repository’s doors opened, a faint smile touched his lips.

“Elder Jiang, Pingchuan may enter the Sutra Repository. I do not know by what means he gained its recognition, but the fact that this door has opened means that it has acknowledged him. Therefore, Pingchuan is allowed to enter and study within,” Yan Qingxia said, stroking his beard with a genial smile and nodding at Jiang Pingchuan.

Jiang Xingtian, shocked and perplexed, stared at his grandson, clearly realizing that the earlier tremor had been the Repository acknowledging him.

“Grandfather, since the Repository has recognized me, you should return first. Just let Furball accompany me,” Jiang Pingchuan said, releasing his grandfather’s hand. Looking at the elder’s joy-worn but radiant face, he silently vowed to make the most of his time within the Repository, to learn, to master, to excel.

Jiang Xingtian patted Pingchuan’s topknot and nodded, turning to leave. At the threshold, he paused for a long while, his back to his grandson. Yan Qingxia saw this and felt a pang of bitterness. He thought Jiang Xingtian a pitiable man. Of his once-large family, only Pingchuan remained by his side; the rest, their fates uncertain. Now, with Pingchuan about to enter the Repository, after stepping out today, Jiang Xingtian would be utterly alone.

“Elder Jiang, do not worry. The Sutra Repository is a place where the Dao converges and opportunities abound. The path of cultivation depends on heart and comprehension. Comprehension is fate. Each has his destiny; why worry?” Yan Qingxia said gently to Jiang Xingtian’s back. Hearing this, Jiang Xingtian nodded and left. When the stone door closed, Jiang Pingchuan saw that his grandfather no longer had the fierce vigor of the Enforcer Elder. His slightly stooped figure was more akin to an ordinary man ready to enjoy his twilight years.

It was only when the door shut completely that Jiang Pingchuan nudged the dozing Furball awake and made his way toward the Repository. Furball opened his beastly scarlet eyes, fire flickering within, but remained unmoving.

“Furball, come on,” Jiang Pingchuan called, looking back at the plump, disgruntled cat. He still had many questions for Yan Qingxia.

“Monkey Fur! Who are you calling Furball? I have a name, I am—uh, I am…” The fat cat’s voice was deep and aged, but when it came to naming himself, his confidence faltered, turning first to confusion, then to vexed anger and helplessness. In the end, he failed to recall his name.

Jiang Pingchuan rolled his eyes and walked toward the dumbfounded Yan Qingxia, who stared incredulously at the cat. Though it looked like a fat feline, its expression and actions were almost entirely human. Yan Qingxia found himself unable to see through Jiang Pingchuan. After all, two impossible things had happened to him already today.

“Master, before I enter the Repository, may I ask you a few questions?” Jiang Pingchuan straightened his little robe and looked up at Yan Qingxia, who had not yet recovered his wits.

“Oh, yes, of course. If you have any doubts, speak freely. I shall answer all I can,” Yan Qingxia replied, snapping out of his daze. He knew the child, like himself, had many questions.

“Why, when I came along the ancient path in front of the Repository, did I sense not the slightest trace of vitality? Everywhere I looked, I saw only decay. I could not feel the life of the Dao at all.”

Recalling his journey along the ancient road, Jiang Pingchuan struggled to accept that the Repository of the Maoshan Daoist tradition was shrouded in such a miasma. As he voiced his question, Yan Qingxia’s expression tightened, and he sighed.

“There is something you do not know, Pingchuan. The living things and plants beside that path are all sentient beings. According to the comprehension of those who enter the Repository, they manifest different auras. For the past ten years, no one has set foot inside. The sentient flora outside, unable to sense the presence of seekers’ enlightenment, have become lifeless, exuding an aura of decay.”

Yan Qingxia gazed at a towering, long-dead tree in the courtyard. Its trunk, pitch black, soared to the clouds, but now only a barren shaft remained, lonely and desolate.

“Then those plants outside can sense a cultivator’s comprehension. Has there ever been anyone whose insight caused the entire ancient road to burst into verdant bloom?”

Jiang Pingchuan realized that if the Repository transmitted a cultivator’s enlightenment to the flora outside, then sufficient nourishment of insight would dispel all decay, replacing it with vitality.

“Yes. Three thousand years ago, when Maoshan Dao was founded, its creator was a peerless sage of unfathomable power. He built the Repository here after seeing that towering greenwood. After a millennium wandering the world, the sage brought a youth named Ling Yunxiao to the Repository. Ling Yunxiao studied here for ten years, and within a ten-mile radius, the sentient vegetation flourished in exuberant life. After more than thirty years, Ling Yunxiao left Maoshan Dao, and a thousand years later, a youth named Chu Yunge entered as a disciple. In one year, he broke through his physical limitations to the fifth stage of Qi Cultivation. He studied in the Repository for ten years; the surrounding hundred miles knew perpetual spring, and the birds and beasts gained great intelligence. After twenty-nine years of cultivation, Chu Yunge too left Maoshan Dao, his whereabouts unknown. It has now been a thousand years since Chu Yunge’s era. In this millennium, fewer and fewer have entered the Repository. The current sect master barely managed to bring seven miles of greenery to life. In the past ten years, none have entered. You are the first—perhaps the last,” Yan Qingxia said, sitting on the steps, his face melancholy. The thousand-year legacy seemed on the verge of ending with his generation.

“Thank you for your explanation, Master. But I see that this great tree has long since died. Why not cut it down? Leaving it only adds to the desolation.”

“That tree’s origins are mysterious. It’s said that three thousand years ago, the sage built the Repository here because of this very greenwood vine. It stood for three millennia. Though now dead, there is still some breath within its trunk. It can no longer stand tall, yet it fell from the heavens and took root—it is a witness to Maoshan Dao. I am not worthy to cut it down,” Yan Qingxia replied, shaking his head.

Hearing this, Jiang Pingchuan’s expression changed. He bowed three times to the tree, then turned toward the Repository. At the door, seeing the fat cat still scratching its ears and looking sullen, he could not help but feel amused.

“Furball, if you don’t hurry, I’m going in without you.” A glint of mischief flashed in Jiang Pingchuan’s eyes.

“I have a name, I really do! Why can’t I remember it? Why? Why?” The fat cat thumped the ground in frustration, struggling to recall its name, but its anxious tone revealed it still could not remember.

“I know you have a name, but since you can’t recall it, people will look down on you. So, for now, I’ll call you Furball. What do you think?” Jiang Pingchuan said as the cat ambled closer. At this, its beastly brows arched.

“Who would dare look down on me? If anyone does, I’ll fight them thirty thousand rounds! Hmph. I’ll use the name Furball for now. When I remember my real name, I’ll take it back.”

Furball shook its large, round head and came to Jiang Pingchuan’s side, gazing at the Repository. It sensed a faintly familiar aura, though it had no memory of it. Furball suspected that something crucial was lost in its forgotten past—perhaps its name.

“Pingchuan, your sentient cat may not be able to enter the Repository. The Repository has recognized only you; only you may enter,” Yan Qingxia said, regret evident as he looked from Furball to Jiang Pingchuan. Jiang Pingchuan hesitated, glancing from Furball to Yan Qingxia, but seeing the latter shake his head, he knew he must enter alone.

“Bah! Recognized? There’s nowhere in heaven or earth I’m forbidden to go. You think I need approval to enter some crumbling old hall?” Furball scoffed, stroking his whiskers as he strutted toward the Repository. At the threshold, he leapt inside, turned to stick out his round cat’s face in a mocking grimace, red eyes aglow, tongue wagging, brimming with arrogant pride. Yan Qingxia pressed his temples, beginning to suspect the Repository’s wards had malfunctioned.

A cat could swagger inside unimpeded! Suddenly, Yan Qingxia’s eyelid twitched as he saw a tiger’s shadow behind Furball, its power on par with his own. Yan Qingxia’s expression tightened. He recalled that Hongwu had gone out to investigate a peak Nascent Soul expert. If his guess was right, this cat was that very expert—or rather, expert cat.

Jiang Pingchuan watched Furball finish its antics, then waggle its plump behind and tail. He couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Glancing at the ashen-faced Yan Qingxia, Jiang Pingchuan stifled his laughter and bowed.

“Thank you, Master. Pingchuan takes his leave.”

“Pingchuan, each period of enlightenment within is ten years. You cannot leave the Repository in that time. Be careful in your reflection; do not lose yourself,” Yan Qingxia hurriedly called as Jiang Pingchuan approached the doors. Pingchuan turned and bowed again.

A loud boom sounded.

A series of yowls and howls erupted from within.

“Immortal ancestors! Woe is me!” wailed Furball.

Just as Jiang Pingchuan turned to bow to Yan Qingxia, a cacophony rang out from within. He and Yan Qingxia turned to see Furball’s aura in chaos, fluctuating wildly. His cultivation plummeted from Nascent Soul mid-stage peak to its earliest stage, then, with a final despairing cry, dropped to Foundation Establishment. A tremendous suction yanked Furball into the depths of the Repository. Jiang Pingchuan, seeing this, dared not hesitate and entered directly.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the Repository’s doors slammed shut. Yan Qingxia stood before the sealed doors, then turned from the steps, a flash of green light passing through his eyes.

Following the glow, Yan Qingxia discovered a faint pulse of vitality. At the roots of the greenwood tree, a fresh sprout had broken through the earth. He looked from the tightly-closed Repository to the shoot, then departed with a smile. Once he left, the area surrounding the Repository was left desolate and barren.