Chapter 95 – Seeking Guidance

The Daoist Rites course was one Zhan Changfeng had originally enrolled in—it was also the first class at Chrysanthemum Plucking House. Now that noon had already arrived, she had missed it entirely.

She hadn’t signed up for Body Tempering yet, so she still needed to purchase a course in that.

As it turned out, Body Tempering was typically held in the morning during the si hour, which put it in direct conflict with Spirit Speech.

Zhan Changfeng had no choice but to skip one class and then another in turns, spending several days mapping out each teacher’s teaching pace and style.

Of them all, the Body Tempering course was undoubtedly the most relaxed—nothing more than standing meditation, sparring practice, and archery. Moreover, Teacher Heitie, who taught Body Tempering, had only reached the early stage of the Prenatal realm. That was more than sufficient for a bunch of fledgling cultivators, but teaching her would have been a joke.

Teacher Heitie knew this as well, so he turned a blind eye to her absences. As long as she completed the required training exercises, he considered her qualified.

As for Spirit Speech class, the first half was usually spent introducing new material, while the second half was devoted to self-study and spot-checks on the previous day’s learning.

Zhan Changfeng could only compress her time as much as possible—mastering the day’s entire lesson during the first half, submitting to Teacher Baifeng’s spot-check, then rushing off to complete her Body Tempering training in the second half.

And since she had joined midway through the term and missed all the earlier lessons, she seized every opportunity to question her teachers. Teacher Baifeng, who taught Spirit Speech, and Teacher Mingshan, who taught Daoist Rites, suffered most at her hands.

“I have no idea how she finds me,” Teacher Baifeng complained in the Hall of Classical Studies. “I turn around after washing my hands and she’s just appeared out of nowhere. The questions she asks—honestly, it’s a wonder she hasn’t driven me mad!”

Teacher Mingshan sympathized deeply. “Truly, truly. Take the titles we cultivators use, for instance. Those who walk the path of cultivation are called xìnshì. Only after undergoing the ceremony of taking refuge and apprenticing under a guiding master may one be called jūshì. Those who have received scripture transmission or the Daoist crown are called dàoshì. And only after formally taking a master and renouncing secular life, becoming part of a lineage, does one become a dào shī. Is that right?”

“That’s correct.”

Teacher Mingshan continued, “And then there’s the important point that xìnshì, jūshì, and dàoshì have not truly left secular life—so when addressing a monastic, even a fellow disciple, one cannot call them Senior Brother or Senior Sister. They must be addressed as Daoist Friend, Venerable Daoist, or dao teacher, without exception. Otherwise the distinction between ordained and lay becomes muddled, and one invites bad karma. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s all correct.”

“And another important point: in our cultivation world, unlike the storybooks of the secular world, the terms ‘Junior Brother’ and ‘Junior Sister’ are simply not used. Regardless of cultivation level, gender, age, or seniority, everyone addresses one another as Senior Brother or Senior Sister, as a sign of humility—unless they share the same direct lineage and have been ranked by their Master. After all, there are so many variables in cultivation. Today you’re in the Prenatal realm and she’s in the Postnatal realm, so you call her Junior Sister—but in a few years, she reaches Foundation Establishment while you’re still Prenatal. Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“All of that is perfectly standard. Is there anything suspicious about it?”

Teacher Mingshan looked as though he wished he could forget. “It’s all standard, yes—but she asks questions that go way beyond the curriculum. For instance, what changes has Daoist etiquette undergone over time, what differences exist in the ceremonial customs of each Daoist sect, what caused those differences, and so on and so forth.”

“How am I supposed to know all that at such a deep level? And yet I couldn’t just refuse to answer—what would that do to my reputation? So I’d make some excuse and tell her to come back the next day, then spend all night tearing my hair out to find her an answer. When I finally gave it to her, she’d calmly listen to the end, say it was more or less the same as what she’d found the previous night, and then raise an entirely new question. Can you imagine the despair?!”

“Is it really that extreme?” Teacher Xuanhe thought for a moment. “I think she’s quite good—learns fast, learns well. She’s never come to question me; she just leaves right after class.”

“That’s because you teach Zuowang! She comes and goes like the wind—when would she have time to question you? Besides, does Zuowang even need questioning?!”

“Teacher Baifeng, please calm down. A student who loves learning is a good thing.”

Teacher Baifeng let out a long sigh. “Xuanhe, I know that enthusiasm for learning deserves encouragement—but I’m just a Spirit Speech teacher. She’s been asking me to explain the fundamental principles of how Spirit Speech enables communication across different languages. Because of that one question alone, I’ve been going back and forth with her for nearly a month.”

“Isn’t Spirit Speech simply a mental cultivation method? Once the mental cultivation takes hold, you naturally understand.”

“It’s far more complicated than that. She’s asking me whether Spirit Speech works by homogenizing spiritual force, or whether Spirit Speech carries some innate magical ability to translate language, or whether it might be a form of telepathy. I teach Spirit Speech—I didn’t invent it. How would I know?!”

Teacher Xuanhe offered some comfort. “Just pick one and go with it. It’s not like she has any way to verify it.”

Teacher Baifeng looked even more aggrieved. “I told her it might be a form of spiritual resonance that undergoes changes too subtle for one to perceive. Then she asked me: since the highest form of Spirit Speech is said to allow communication with all races, does that imply all races share some common point in their spiritual force?”

The teacher sitting nearby gave a violent jerk of his hand and nearly tore the paper he was working on. “So it was you who brought this disaster on me! I was wondering why a student would suddenly come out of nowhere asking me about the differences and similarities in the brain structures of every race. I teach children to identify creatures in the Compendium of Ten Thousand Beasts—it’s not as though I can just capture them all and dissect them?!”

The teacher of medicine quietly said, “I think I understand why she came to see me now.”

Teacher Xuanhe asked curiously, “So are there differences in the brain structures of different races?”

The medicine teacher sipped his tea and replied with an air of profound mystery, “An unsolved mystery—but I believe one day you will find the answer yourself. That is how I answered her.”

Everyone raised a thumb in admiration. Brilliant. Truly brilliant.

Suddenly the teacher who oversaw the spirit birds looked up in horror. “The student you’re all talking about—is she the one with the scar on her face?!”

“That’s the one.”

“Heavens above. I was so touched that a student came every day to observe the spirit birds—proof of her love for living creatures, I thought! And all along she was thinking about dissection?!”

“No, no—I have to go stand guard over the aviary!” The teacher snatched up a large blade and bolted out like a gust of wind.

Bang. The door slammed shut.

The remaining teachers stared at one another, unable to decide what expression to wear—every expression somehow felt wrong. Only Teacher Xuanhe was thoroughly amused. “This student is far too interesting.”

Teacher Baifeng gave her a warning look. “Careful not to celebrate too soon.”

“How could anything go wrong? There’s nothing much to ask in my class. She’s already doing wonderfully.” Teacher Xuanhe had barely finished speaking when a knock came at the door.

Unhurried, measured in weight—just by the sound of it, one could tell the visitor was someone who held meticulously to propriety and carried themselves with considerable poise.

And yet the assembled teachers tensed as though facing an enemy, Teacher Baifeng and Teacher Mingshan most visibly on edge.

Teacher Mingshan said, “I already gave her the key to the book repository and told her to look up whatever she wants herself. She shouldn’t be here for me.”

“I’ve already passed her off to someone else long ago—she’s not here for me either.”

The teachers of the Compendium of Ten Thousand Beasts and basic pharmacology turned to glare at him.

Teacher Xuanhe, having nothing at stake, watched the drama with a smile and called out, “Come in!”

Slowly, her expression grew serious. She looked at the student who walked up to stand before her and got in the first word: “Yi Zhan—your Zuowang practice is exceptionally good. I’ve decided to have you pass this course right now, so you’ll have more time for everything else. Just look at you, running around all day—how exhausting.”

Zhan Changfeng regarded her with grave seriousness. “I still have doubts I would like to ask you about, Teacher.”

Teacher Xuanhe suddenly felt a flutter of unease. “Then go ahead and ask.”

“Entering stillness is the process of purifying the spirit and quieting thought, entering a consciously cultivated meditative state. Contemplation is the purification of consciousness, reaching a transcendent realm beyond defilement. But Zuowang—is it truly nothing more than casting off one’s physical form and senses, and freeing oneself from the bonds of thought?”

Teacher Xuanhe was silent for a long time before she spoke. “Yes and no—that is something you must discover through your own experience. The only thing I can tell you is this: to sit is for the heart to remain unmoved, as it always has been. To forget is for form itself to dissolve away. Zuowang is the stabilization of the heart. It lets you grasp your own life’s will at a deeper level, to authentically align with the Great Dao—not to escape reality.”

“Zuowang is certainly a method of inner cultivation, but to treat it merely as a tool for training is far too shallow. The philosophy within it is extraordinarily complex, and every person arrives at a different understanding. I cannot say it all.”

Zhan Changfeng asked, “Then how does Teacher herself understand Zuowang?”

Teacher Xuanhe pointed out the window. “A bird just flew past. Did you see it?”

“I did.”

“Then let it pass.”

Xuanhe’s Zuowang, brought into the realm of everyday life, was a state of being unencumbered in heart and mind. The roads you have walked need not be revisited in memory; the fragrance of flowers you have known need not be clung to. Return to the original nature of life, and let the river of the heart flow quietly on.

Zhan Changfeng found this deeply instructive. She had been treating Zuowang as nothing more than an inner cultivation method, much like entering stillness—she had never truly understood or practiced it. She had sat, she had forgotten, and she had felt no difference whatsoever.

“Thank you for your guidance, Teacher.”