Chapter Four: A Visitor from the Deep Mountains

The cultivation method the Taoist statue imparted to Zhou Yi was called the Mysterious Radiant Qi, divided into five major realms.

The first level is called "Glimpsing the Way," and at this stage, the spiritual energy is milky white. It involves gathering one's spiritual energy and channeling it through all meridians. This first level is also the most difficult, as success depends greatly on individual aptitude—some may spend their entire lives unable to even touch the threshold of cultivation, while others may succeed in only a few days. Zhou Yi, having received the method directly from the Taoist statue, had a strand of spiritual energy left in his body during the transmission—deep violet in color. Strictly speaking, Zhou Yi was already at the initial stage of cultivation.

The second level is called "Suppressing Evil," where the spiritual energy turns yellow. Although only the second level, at this stage, all evils are warded off and the practitioner becomes immune to common illnesses. Reaching the second level is akin to a man in robust health—rarely ill but with little practical use. To be precise, spiritual energy can now extend outside the body to diagnose others, but only upon physical contact; in essence, it's merely the ability to check others’ health. In later stages, one may perceive the flow of others’ fortune.

The third level is known as "Subduing Demons," where the spiritual energy becomes blue. At this stage, one absorbs the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, comprehends the five elements, discerns yin and yang, and can project spiritual energy outward to harm opponents invisibly. Only upon reaching this level can one be considered a true cultivator. Indeed, this is already the body of a half-immortal.

The fourth level is called "Heaven’s Dao," where the spiritual energy turns purple. As the name suggests, when spiritual energy is refined to this stage, one may glimpse the laws of heaven, becoming a true immortal. At this point, further cultivation is unnecessary, as the body will automatically absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.

The fifth level is known as "Supreme," where spiritual energy becomes multicolored. Those who attain this realm are exceedingly few among countless immortals. Patriarch Hong Jun and the Buddha are of the Supreme realm, while the Supreme Elder, the Primordial Lord, and the Master of the Heavenly Teachings are only at the Heaven’s Dao realm.

If the first level is a well, the second a river, and the third could be called a great river, then the fourth is as vast as the sea—no effort is required, for the waters of all rivers and streams flow in naturally. The fifth is like the boundless firmament; the sea may be vast, but it has its limits, while the sky has none. But let us not dwell on this for now.

The spiritual energy left by the Taoist statue within Zhou Yi was deep violet—clearly of the Heaven’s Dao realm.

Zhou Yi quietly comprehended this, sensing the faint strands of deep violet spiritual energy coursing through his meridians. The energy was gentle, yet beyond his control. It was clear that before he could begin cultivating, he would first have to tame the spiritual energy left by the statue.

Following the method ingrained in his mind, Zhou Yi sat cross-legged on the kang, eyes half-closed. His left thumb pressed against the joint of his middle finger, the right hand resting naturally on his knee, mind clear and focused. Spiritual energy resided in his organs and limbs; without cultivation, it would gradually dissipate. The moment the energy in the body’s limbs and bones had faded, life would end.

To put it plainly, the heart corresponds to fire; those with weak hearts should avoid anger, yet often have volatile tempers. The liver corresponds to wood; those who drink heavily damage their liver, weakening the wood element. The spleen is earth; those with weak earth often have poor digestion. The lungs are metal; smoking harms the lungs, weakening the metal element. The kidneys are water; those with weak water often have kidney issues.

The five elements generate and restrain each other—I have only peered at a corner of the truth.

Zhou Yi remained seated for an entire hour. Deep into the night, he finally sensed his own spiritual energy and began to absorb it slowly. Zhou Yi’s family lived together under one roof. In the middle of the night, his third brother got up and saw Zhou Yi sitting upright on the kang, eyes closed, and thought Zhou Yi was having a fit. He reached out and pushed Zhou Yi. At that moment, Zhou Yi was trying to subdue the violet energy left in his meridians by the statue. The push disrupted his focus, and the violet energy instantly broke free from his control.

The energy surged through his meridians. Zhou Yi felt a sweetness in his throat and coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood. Luckily, his brother had only pushed him lightly; had it been a heavier blow, the consequences would have been much worse.

After spitting blood, Zhou Yi’s head felt swollen. Without waiting for his brother to speak, he quickly lay down to sleep in his clothes. The night passed uneventfully. The next morning, still feeling light-headed, Zhou Yi hastily finished breakfast and decided to find a quiet place to cultivate. Cultivation requires tranquility; frequent disturbances are a sure path to disaster. Zhou Yi dared not be careless.

“Father, let’s clean out the west room today. I’ll move in there from now on.” At that time, during the early Republic of China, Zhou Yi’s family were Manchus. He addressed his father as "father" in the old style, his speech carrying a Northeastern accent and Manchu terms, though their surname had been sinicized to Zhou. Strictly speaking, their original surname should have been “Ushihachi.”

Zhou Dajiang, chewing a piece of venison, nodded as he spoke. “As you wish.” Zhou Dajiang used to be easygoing, but ever since the Qing dynasty fell, he had grown silent and withdrawn—this had already lasted five or six years. Zhou Yi paid it no mind and set out to clean the west room early in the morning.

Beiqiao followed behind Zhou Yi, occasionally uttering low growls. At noon, Baozi arrived, dressed in a sheepskin coat and carrying a hunting rifle—clearly preparing to hunt in the mountains.

“Let’s go up the mountain. We’ll bag another deer today,” Baozi said upon entering.

Zhou Yi hadn’t planned to go, but Beiqiao’s appetite was enormous—two meals and all the deer’s innards were gone. Beiqiao didn’t eat cooked food, so Zhou Yi changed his mind, got dressed, and headed into the mountains with Baozi.

The wind had howled all night, and the mountain paths were blocked by snow, but the two had grown up at the foot of the mountains. They hacked their way upward through the brush, the snow on the path posing no great obstacle.

After winter set in, most prey went into hibernation; only carnivores or the occasional pheasant or rabbit could be found.

The two walked for a long while without spotting a single large animal. They caught a rabbit and tossed it to Beiqiao. But Beiqiao didn’t kill it immediately; after releasing it, he watched the rabbit run, then crept closer and pounced, biting its throat. He released it again, repeating this five or six times before finally killing it. Even then, he didn’t keep it for himself but dropped the rabbit’s body before Zhou Yi.

Amused, Zhou Yi squatted down to pat Beiqiao on the head, signaling that he could eat. Only then did Beiqiao gut the rabbit and start eating. This display only made Zhou Yi grow fonder of him.

As Zhou Yi watched Beiqiao eat, Baozi tugged at his sleeve, putting a finger to his lips to signal silence. Following Baozi’s gaze, Zhou Yi saw a group of eight men heading deeper into the mountains. They wore padded robes and felt hats—clearly not hunters.

Why would anyone enter the mountains in winter unless for some special reason? The two were puzzled and decided to follow and see. Acting on their curiosity, they and the wolf silently trailed the group of eight.

They followed for an entire day. As dusk fell, the eight men shot two pheasants with their muskets and roasted them over a fire. One man gathered a large pile of leaves, set them ablaze, and when the fire died, swept away the ash, laid down fresh leaves, spread his bedding, and lay down to sleep.

“It looks like they plan to stay in the mountains for some time. Otherwise, why bring bedding? What do you think they’re doing out here in the dead of winter?” Baozi whispered.

Zhou Yi frowned and replied softly, “I don’t know. Let’s find a place to rest and come back at dawn.”

Driven by youthful curiosity, the two followed the eight men, unaware that they were about to be drawn into the maelstrom of a restoration movement.

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