017. Summons

These words, though seemingly sincere and earnest, left Tongzhen’s face alternating between pale and flushed with anger. Just as he was about to lose his temper, someone caught his arm in time. Tongxu shot him a glance, signaling with his eyes to remind him that the Abbot was still seated above. He then spoke to smooth things over. “What Brother Han says is true. Brother Tan is far too impulsive.”

Tongzhen, still fuming, protested, “I am not—”

“Junior Brother!” Tongxu called sternly. Seeing Tongzhen close his mouth, albeit unwillingly, he turned to the middle-aged priest sitting at the head and bowed. “Abbot, while Brother Tan’s words were hasty, he was right about one thing. Brother Zheng did indeed conceal matters privately, which violates our sect’s rules. If this goes unaddressed, how will the rules be upheld?”

The Abbot of Xuan Yuan Temple, who had been feigning indifference with his eyes half-closed, opened them at these words. Stroking his beard, he grunted for some time before finally saying, “Puneng, what do you think?”

Brother Han rose gracefully; it turned out his given name was Puneng. He said, “What Brother Hua said is reasonable. However, whether or not we pursue the matter depends on the circumstances.”

“Oh?” someone asked.

Brother Han smiled, addressing the assembly with calm assurance. “Previously, I reviewed the sect’s registry and found that since joining, Brother Zheng has never committed a wrongdoing or violated our rules—in fact, he’s made several contributions. Since that’s the case, if he is already dead, pursuing the matter serves no purpose. Better to let it rest. After all, he had neither wife nor children, and at his death merely sent back a disciple. Surely our Xuan Yuan Temple is not so destitute that we cannot support a single disciple.”

The Abbot pondered for a moment and nodded slightly.

“But—” Tongzhen managed only a word before Brother Han swiftly interrupted. “Of course, if he yet lives, then the matter must be thoroughly investigated and used as a warning to others!” As he finished, he glanced at Tongxu with a half-smile. “Brother Hua, don’t you agree?”

Tongxu’s face darkened slightly. “So, Brother Han, you mean to first determine whether Brother Zheng is alive or dead?”

“Naturally,” replied Brother Han coolly. “There’s one way to handle the dead, and another for the living. To go even further—if Brother Zheng still lives, how could our sect abandon a disciple to his fate?” He sighed. “Brother Zheng left the temple over twenty years ago to travel. Brother Tan only joined later and may not know his character. Brother Zheng was always cautious and prudent, never the impulsive type. Since he sent his own disciple back with his credentials and personal notes, most likely his life is already forfeit. Alas!”

Hearing this lament, Tongzhen secretly scoffed: You, of all people, would probably be happiest if he were dead. Zheng Tongxuan truly wasted his loyalty on you!

“What Brother Han says makes sense, but how long is this to be dragged out?” Tongxu’s tone grew cold as he added, “That young disciple knows little, and what she says is vague. If there’s any clue, it’s only the brief contents of the disciple’s notes. How are we to account for the time and effort to investigate?”

Brother Han smiled, glancing at the Abbot. “Brother Hua, are you not interested in the treasure mentioned in Brother Zheng’s notes? For him to spend so many years searching for it, it must be of value. In my opinion, this is the real crux of the matter!”

……

It had been seven days since Lingyu arrived at Xuan Yuan Temple, and these seven days had been nothing short of celestial bliss.

The Cheng family had been immensely wealthy, and from childhood, she had known only luxury. However, everything within Xuan Yuan Temple was unlike any splendor she had ever experienced.

The most obvious difference was the food. The temple’s fare had a natural vitality; even lightly prepared, it was delicious. Lingyu suspected this was the fabled essence of immortality. There were other things too. For example, the charcoal used in the temple lasted far longer—a single piece could burn an entire day without going out. The robes distributed could not be torn, no matter how hard one tried, and so on.

The two servants assigned to her were also excellent—a maid who attended to her personally and an older woman for heavier chores. Both were respectful and diligent, never speaking out of turn beyond their duties.

In short, her days were leisurely: gazing at the mountains and waters, eating when hungry, sleeping when tired, with no one to trouble her and someone to wait on her every need. The only oddity was that no one seemed to be in charge of her. Lingyu, curious, sought out Zhang Qingshu, who explained with a smile, “You may not know, but all new disciples must have their background verified. In the next few days, the sect will send for confirmation from the Yincheng branch. Once your origins are confirmed, you’ll be formally admitted and begin your studies. Just be patient.”

With no other choice, she could only wait. After all, her background was genuine.

On the eighth day, at last, a young maid in blue came to her, bowing respectfully. “Miss Cheng, the Master requests your presence.”

Lingyu was delighted. “The Master will see me at last? Where are we going?”

The maid, keeping her head slightly lowered in deference to twelve-year-old Lingyu, replied, “To answer you, Miss Cheng, naturally to the Xuanming Hall.”

Over the past week, idleness had led Lingyu to ask Zhang Qingshu to fetch the two books from her Qiankun pouch—one containing the sect’s rules, the other a guide for disciples. The guide included a detailed introduction to Xuan Yuan Temple, its three branches—the Outer, Upper, and Inner Courts—the purpose of each hall, and so on. Xuanming Hall was the main hall of the Inner Court, where the Masters, Heads, and Supervisors rotated their duties.

Lingyu quickly agreed. “Very well, lead the way.”

The maid bowed again and took the lead, guiding her toward Xuanming Hall.

A quarter of an hour later, Lingyu stood before the entrance of Xuanming Hall.

It was not far from the side hall where Gu Yuanliang resided. To all appearances, it was an ordinary building, hardly betraying its status as the second most important structure in the entire temple.

After delivering her and speaking with the disciple on duty, the maid in blue departed, leaving Lingyu to wait for another half-cup of tea’s time before someone came to summon her. “Are you Cheng Lingyu, Sister Cheng?”

Lingyu hurriedly saluted.

The disciple smiled kindly. “Come with me.”

Following him inside, Lingyu saw that the main hall was dominated by a statue of the founding master, incense curling before it. Other than that, the hall was empty.

The disciple led her into the rear quarters, which were unexpectedly spacious, with long corridors branching away to unknown destinations.

Lingyu hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Senior Brother, may I ask which Master I am to see?”

He turned down a corridor and replied as they walked, “You’re in luck, Sister Cheng. Today is Master Puneng’s turn on duty.”

Master Puneng—so it was Han Puneng.

Over the past few days, Lingyu had come to understand the structure of Xuan Yuan Temple. It was divided into three branches: the Outer Court, for new and uninitiated disciples; the Upper Court, for those who had entered the Dao; and the Inner Court, for the leadership.

Apart from administrative positions like Abbot and Supervisor, Inner Court members fell into three categories: Masters, Heads, and Supervisors. The latter two were positions of great authority, requiring virtue and seniority. There were always two Supervisors, whose authority was second only to the Abbot; three Heads, one each for the Tai Xu, Yu Xu, and Chong Xu Halls, with the Abbot typically chosen from among them. Master was a fixed title, denoting those qualified to teach and accept disciples, with the potential to rise to Head or Supervisor.

The division into Tai Xu, Yu Xu, and Chong Xu Halls was an age-old tradition, each with its own founder, fostering both competition and cooperation among disciples—a measure instituted by the founders to encourage ambition.

The Tai Xu line used the generational name Tong; Yu Xu used Pu; Chong Xu used Wei. These were passed down through generations, not changed every generation like in some sects.

Thus, Lingyu realized her own master belonged to Tai Xu Hall. It was said that Tai Xu had seen a decline in talent in recent years, with the only standouts being the two who had visited her—Tan Tongzhen and Hua Tongxu. But Lingyu found it odd: these two seemed to have little affection for Xuanchenzi, even calling him Zheng Tongxuan by name. Yet her master was their senior brother!

Chong Xu was the most unique of the three halls—rarely producing Abbots, but always a gathering place for sword fanatics, the most dedicated cultivators in the temple.

Yu Xu had always been steady and reliable, but in recent years, Master Han Puneng’s reputation had grown rapidly. Rumor had it he would soon become Head of Yu Xu Hall, and might become Abbot within a decade.

Lingyu also learned a little about cultivation. To “enter the Dao” meant to achieve the Visualization State and draw spiritual energy into the body, thus becoming a cultivator—her current state was having entered the Visualization State, but not yet having drawn in energy, standing at the threshold of the Dao. Once initiated, a disciple entered the Qi Refining Stage.

The Qi Refining Stage had ten levels. From drawing in energy up to the fifth level was not difficult; any disciple able to enter the Dao could usually reach the fifth. But from the sixth onward, aptitude and talent mattered. Inner Court Masters had at least sixth-level cultivation. To be accepted into the Inner Court with only sixth-level required some other specialty—her own master, for instance, excelled in talismans. Heads were eighth level, Supervisors and the Abbot required ninth level. Were there those above tenth level?

Lingyu had asked Zhang Qingshu this, and he’d been silent for a long while before replying that such people existed, but rarely appeared in public. Lingyu then asked, since it was called the Qi Refining Stage, was there another stage after the tenth? Zhang Qingshu was stumped and had to consult his uncle, the temple steward, who told her there were further stages, but not ones they could discuss yet. When she reached sixth level and entered the Inner Court, she would be eligible to learn about them.

But that was all far in the future. For now, what lay before Lingyu was the summons from an Inner Court Master.

That disciple had said she was fortunate—the reputation of Han Puneng was the best among the Inner Court Masters. From top to bottom, it was said he was the most devoted teacher, utterly impartial.

Yet Lingyu was anxious. She was the disciple of Zheng Tongxuan of Tai Xu Hall, not Yu Xu. Could Han Puneng truly have no prejudice against her? She’d heard that he and Tai Xu Hall were not on the best of terms!

There was no time for more thought; they had already stopped before a small door. The disciple knocked twice and called, “Master Puneng, I’ve brought Sister Cheng Lingyu.”

A few moments later, a calm voice replied from within, “Come in.”

“Sister Cheng, please go in,” the disciple said, opening the door for her. He bowed to Han Puneng inside, then left her alone.

Lingyu could only summon her courage and step into the room.

“Cheng Lingyu?” The room was neither cramped nor exactly spacious. The Daoist within, appearing in his twenties, nodded and smiled at her. “Sit. Your background has been verified; there are no issues. From today onward, you are officially a disciple of Xuan Yuan Temple.”