Chapter Eighty-Seven: Storm and Snow on Plowhead Mountain

By the time Lin Feng returned to Pure Mercy Pagoda, the rooster had crowed three times. The monks were already lighting candles and sweeping the tower as usual. Master Mingwu had come early to wait in the courtyard. Seeing Lin Feng return unharmed, joy lit his face at once.

“Amitabha. Benefactor Lin, did you encounter that demon?” the master asked.

“Oh, just a little fox with no real power. You need not worry, Master. It will not come again,” Lin Feng replied after steadying himself.

Mingwu looked solemn and pious. With one hand he rolled his prayer beads; with the other he raised a palm before his chest and intoned a loud praise to the Buddha. “May that fox-demon wash away its sins soon and be reborn among men. Excellent, excellent.”

Lin Feng blinked, then instantly understood. He laughed. “Master has misunderstood. I did not kill it, only taught it a lesson.”

Mingwu’s expression changed, and he asked at once, “Then that fox-demon truly will not return?”

“Of course. If the Master does not believe me, seek out another expert,” Lin Feng said coldly, watching him. So they said monks never took life, yet when their own safety was threatened, few people turned to killing faster.

“How could I dare? This old monk naturally trusts the benefactor. My sin, my sin.” Mingwu seemed to realize he had spoken carelessly and wore an apologetic look.

After a brief silence, Lin Feng asked, “Master’s religious name is Mingwu. Are you also from Floating Pagoda Temple?”

Mingwu straightened and pressed his palms together. “The benefactor’s guess is correct. This old monk is indeed a disciple of Floating Pagoda Temple.”

“Oh? Does the Master know Senior Brother Mingxin?”

“Mingxin? This old monk has never heard of him. Fifteen years ago, by special permission from the Bodhi Hall, I came here to serve at Pure Mercy Pagoda and have never left. I have not heard of the senior brother the benefactor mentions.”

A thoughtful look appeared on Mingwu’s face. After speaking, he led the way, and the two entered the Buddhist tower one after the other.

The fragrance of sandalwood drifted faintly. Facing the tower door hung a fierce guardian deity image. They climbed the stairs to the third level, where the monks’ meditation quarters were located. After taking seats one after the other, Lin Feng could scarcely restrain his impatience. He wanted to ask about matters concerning Floating Pagoda Temple, but could not bring himself to speak too directly. After some thought, he asked, “I have heard that Pure Mercy Pagoda houses the golden body image of an enlightened Buddhist master, yet in these past two days I have not seen it. Would Master be willing to clear up my confusion?”

Mingwu glanced at him and shook his head with a sigh. “It is not that I am unwilling. The golden body of Ancestor Haishi is enshrined within this pagoda, but even this old monk has never seen it.”

“How can that be? Could the rumors be false?” Lin Feng asked in surprise. “Aren’t golden body statues usually displayed for the world to worship, to receive offerings of incense?”

Mingwu shook his head and let out a long sigh, looking somewhat embarrassed. Slowly he said, “I once asked the former steward as well, but he too did not know the reason. Yet when I left Floating Pagoda Temple, Patriarch Zhishan did say that the golden body of Ancestor Haishi truly is in this Pure Mercy Pagoda. To prevent villainous eyes from coveting it, it has been sealed away by great supernatural power somewhere. We mortals naturally have no means of seeing it.”

“So that is how it is.” Lin Feng’s eyes shone. He continued, “I have heard that Floating Pagoda Temple keeps a relic made from the skull bone of the Buddha’s child. That should be true, should it not? Has the Master ever seen it?”

Mingwu’s expression grew a little unnatural, but he still answered, “I have not. The relic pagoda lies deep within the inner courtyard, and in ordinary times it is guarded in shifts by Patriarchs Zhiyuan and Zhikong. We disciples have no chance to pay it homage...”

Lin Feng’s eye twitched. With those two patriarchs personally guarding the tower, would there even be a chance to steal the relic out? After a moment of silence, he excused himself and took his leave. Mingwu also let out a quiet breath of relief, thanked him repeatedly, and saw him out of the tower.

When he returned to the First Medicine Hall, Fu Sheng told him that Lian Huanzhong had already departed alone and left behind a letter. After reading it, Lin Feng could only smile wryly. This Brother Lian had gone to visit his parents and siblings, and they had agreed to meet five days later at Lotus Town beneath Mount Qiyun before returning to the mountain together. The letter repeatedly stressed secrecy and warned that no third person could be allowed to know.

“Good. I will go to Floating Pagoda Temple first and take a look. Even if I fail, I must at least do my utmost to investigate. Ah, who would have thought that I, Lin Feng, would have to play thief for once? If my master were to find out, he would surely expel me from the sect.” He sighed to himself. With a flick of his hand, a blue flame leapt up and reduced the letter to ash. Within the blue fire, a few wisps of white flame flickered briefly at the core.

Floating Pagoda Temple lay far to the north of the Central Plains, beside the Huang River, stretching for a hundred li, and was thus known as the Hundred-Li Floating Pagoda. To travel there from Bozhou, one had to pass through the kingdoms of Dream Liang and Autumn Pool. Lin Feng packed his belongings and, once beyond the city walls of Bozhou, mounted his flying sword and sped away toward the capital of Dream Liang.

A thousand li of mountains and rivers retreated beneath his feet. He had intended to cross Dream Liang in one breath, but by midday, before he had even reached its borders, goose-feather snow began to fall from the sky, and a north wind mixed with hail came crashing down. The forests and hills were vast and desolate, the trees stripped bare, and there was nowhere to shelter from the wind. He had no choice but to lower his sword and descend among the mountains, walking along a road that was growing ever harder to discern.

The snow fell heavier and heavier, yet he did not feel cold. Treading over broken jade and scattered blossoms of white, facing the bitter north wind, with a wine gourd hanging from his spear, he searched for shelter from the storm.

After several li, he found a grassy pavilion beside the mountain path. He strode inside, gathered some firewood, and kindled a blaze. By its heat he dried his clothes, then removed the gourd from the spear and drank a few mouthfuls of Immortal Drunkenness. The scent of wine drifted farther and farther on the howling north wind as the snow came down in earnest.

Within the silver-white world, a song suddenly rose, piercing the storm and drowning out the wind.

“The jade dragon dances in the sky,
The rivers and lands lie smooth and level.
Ice spans both banks of the crossing river,
Frozen earth for decades on end.
By day I drink the western wind’s dew,
By night I lie drunk in fallen dusk.
If someday I achieve my will,
I’ll dare invite even ghosts and gods to join.”

The singing came from below the mountain, cutting straight through the swirling snow like drifting catkins.

“Who could it be, boasting so shamelessly, daring to invite even ghosts and gods...” Lin Feng could not help narrowing his eyes and peering through the layers of snow toward the mountain road.

Out of the blizzard came a slowly walking elder, wearing a felt hat and a rain cape, a bamboo staff on his shoulder, moving long and unhurried through the wind and snow.

“Old man, come in and have a drink to warm yourself.” In weather this bitterly cold, seeing the old man still walking the mountain road, Lin Feng felt an ache in his heart and hurriedly called out.

“Oh, since the young sir invites me, Old Plum thanks you.” The elder removed his felt hat, shook off the snow, leaned the bamboo staff aside, and sat with Lin Feng around the fire.

“Old man, try this Immortal Drunkenness. It’s cold today, so drink a little more.” Lin Feng handed over the wine gourd.

“Immortal Drunkenness? I haven’t tasted that in many years. Are you from Mount Qiyun?” The elder had a long beard hanging to his chest, yet it was not white. His face was as rosy as a child’s, and his hair was tied in a bun with a plum branch inserted through it, giving him a most reclusive air.

Lin Feng was surprised and quickly said, “Exactly so. Fine eyes, old man. May I ask your honored name?”

“This old fellow is called Plum Rhyme, given name Qi. Just call me Old Plum.” The elder pulled out the stopper and opened his mouth; the wine poured straight in like a waterfall, not a single drop spilling.

“Ah!” Lin Feng cried out. So this Old Plum was also a cultivator. He quietly examined him with his heavenly vision, but could make out nothing at all.

A hidden master indeed!

“Old Plum, Plum Rhyme, no fortune...” After murmuring the name twice, he could not help smiling faintly.

“What, are you making fun of Old Plum?” Mei Yunqi wiped his mouth, opened his eyes wide, and curled his lip. “Old Plum is not afraid of your teasing. If I had good fortune, I would not have lingered on this mountain for so many years.”

“Why does the old sir say that?” Lin Feng took the gourd and drank a couple of mouthfuls as well.

“Cough. You little brat, must you make me dig up old, rotten matters from years ago?” Mei Yunqi sighed, drew his hands into his sleeves, and looked utterly dejected. Shaking his head, he said, “There are three treasures on this Split-Prow Mountain: immortal fungus, cinnamon bark, and stone dragon grass. Old Plum has long wanted to find some immortal fungus to taste, but I have never come across any. Look at it now: the mountain is sealed by heavy snow, even hunters are not coming up here, yet I, an old man, still have to suffer here. Truly miserable!”

Lin Feng thought to himself that this Old Plum was quite odd. Was he really so greedy? Venturing into snow to seek immortal fungus was truly unfathomable.

“Well then, I’ve drunk the wine and warmed myself by the fire. Old Plum still has to go up the mountain, so you rest here.” Mei Yunqi rose to his feet, put on his hat, picked up his staff, and gradually disappeared into the storm.

The song rose again from the mountain, and the snow only grew fiercer.

A crack of thunder suddenly burst from the hazy heavens, without warning, startling Lin Feng out of his thoughts.

“Thunder in winter? No—that’s wrong. Someone is engaged in a magical duel!” He sprang to his feet and looked toward the dim, snow-choked distance.

The snow was falling hard.