Chapter Four: Entering the Mysterious Heaven Sect

When Xu Cheng saw his prized purple-crested rooster so utterly at ease in someone else's hands, a surge of anger rose within him. Yet what recourse did he have? Liao Zhen's strength was far beyond his own; any thought of snatching it back was futile.

Suppressing his irritation with several deep breaths, Xu Cheng forced himself to calm down. Night soon fell, and Liao Zhen presented him with a fasting pill, assuring him that one would sustain him for several days without food. Xu Cheng swallowed the pill, and immediately felt his belly swell with fullness, as if he had no need for any sustenance at all.

"Little junior brother, you must work hard at your cultivation! If you fail to lay your foundation within a hundred days, Master will travel a thousand miles to seek a tantric monk to expel the demonic mark from your palm, and then send you down the mountain!" Liao Zhen declared, her tiny fists clenched as though in threat. Yet Xu Cheng did not feel threatened; rather, he found her precocious and clever beyond her years.

He found a thatched hut to stay in—crude, yet still imbued with Daoist enchantments. Even atop this cliff, it felt perfectly warm. The thought that failure to establish his foundation within a hundred days would mean being sent away was mortifying. But Xu Cheng was confident in himself, and, to be sure, he immediately began to meditate.

Perhaps the shadow Liao Zhen had cast over him during the day lingered in his mind. As soon as he settled into lotus position, his back straight, any lapse in focus conjured up images of Liao Zhen beside him, ready to strike. This left him no choice but to concentrate entirely on his meditation.

By midnight, vapor rose from his entire body, the circulation of his energy reaching its proper point. Further meditation would yield no extra benefit, so Xu Cheng drifted into a dreamless sleep.

At dawn, as he stepped outside his hut, Liao Zhen grabbed him and soared down the mountain. Xu Cheng, having only just discovered the wonder of flight, was soon captivated by the great hall before him.

Below, disciples in blue-gray robes formed one tier, while those above wore white. At the highest level stood figures not dressed as disciples but as the leaders of the Xuantian Daoist Sect, resplendent in yellow robes. Since ancient times, only emperors had been permitted to wear yellow, so these Daoists surely held the highest rank.

"I presume the one beside Liao Zhen is the disciple Lingxu wishes to accept as his own?" asked one of the yellow-robed figures.

"Yes, Uncle Lingyu, this is Master’s new disciple," Liao Zhen replied, clad in her white robe. Though small in stature, her status was evidently not low.

"His countenance is good. He may have a few tricks up his sleeve, but he could yet become something great. Let us begin the initiation ceremony."

So the man above was styled Lingyu. Xu Cheng quietly committed the name to memory. Wait—‘a few tricks’? Could this man tell from his face alone that he had learned the art of thievery? Were Daoists truly so perceptive?

But there was no time to ponder. With Lingyu’s command, the ceremony began. Wisps of incense smoke curled in the hall—sandalwood. A Daoist recited the Xuantian Sect’s precepts: morning lessons, adherence to rules, meditation. There was no explicit prohibition against meat, wine, or women; on the contrary, Daoists who found a partner were even granted a unique chamber technique. Only those who practiced it knew how mysterious it truly was.

Xu Cheng was instructed to declare, “I, Xu Cheng, willingly join the Xuantian Daoist Sect!”

Then, the officiating Daoist brought forth a basin of water, flicking a few drops toward Xu Cheng. To his delight, the droplets transformed into water dragons that washed him thoroughly, inside and out.

“Cleansed by pure water, henceforth you are severed from the mundane world and belong to the Xuantian Daoist Sect. The ritual is complete. Morning lessons now begin,” Lingyu intoned.

Disciples in white and blue-gray robes sat cross-legged in the hall, unrolling bamboo slips and chanting their contents. “The way of Heaven is like the drawing of a bow. The high is lowered, the low is raised; excess is reduced, the deficient is supplied. The way of Heaven takes from those with surplus to give to those in need. The way of man is not so; it takes from the needy to serve those with surplus. Who can have surplus to offer all under Heaven? Only those who follow the Dao…”

Xu Cheng, illiterate, felt awkward among them, but he managed to pretend to chant along. The morning lesson lasted over an hour, followed by meditation. By the time the routine was complete, it was noon. After their meal, the Daoists dispersed to their tasks, seemingly ordinary, though Xu Cheng knew each was formidable in their own right.

“Still not used to sect life, eh? I’m Liao Yi. If you’re free, come help me fetch some water,” said a blue-gray-robed Daoist, clapping Xu Cheng on the shoulder.

“Senior brother Liao Yi, when can I learn those mystical arts?” Xu Cheng asked as they walked.

“It’ll be a while yet! Focus on passing the hundred-day foundation trial first,” Liao Yi scoffed, leading him toward the edge of the mountain.

Here, a rushing river served as the water source for all the Daoists. Xu Cheng learned from Liao Yi that fasting pills were reserved for white-robed disciples; ordinary disciples had to subsist on grains.

Hauling water proved exhausting, wearing Xu Cheng out by evening, when Liao Zhen brought him back to Tianfeng Cliff. His master, Lingxu, was nowhere to be found. Yet through meditation, Xu Cheng’s strength not only recovered but increased markedly.

The next day, after morning lessons and meditation, carrying water no longer taxed him as before. Five days passed, and Xu Cheng could fetch water with ease. Delighted by his progress, he meditated at every opportunity, his strength growing rapidly.

“Liao Wu, it’s your turn to slice herbs today!” It was Liao Yi again, assigning Xu Cheng a new task.

As they worked, Liao Yi explained the properties of various herbs and the methods of concocting pills. Though Xu Cheng could not read, his memory was exceptional, and he committed all the instructions to heart.

According to Liao Yi, a Daoist must master astronomy and geography alike. Any member of the Xuantian Sect could excel in the imperial examinations and achieve top scholar status in the mortal world.

Being a Daoist was no easy thing! Xu Cheng’s confidence wavered, but the demonic mark on his palm steeled his resolve. Yet, unable to read, how was he to manage?

Liao Zhen vanished after morning lessons, and apart from teaching him to slice herbs, fetch water, and tend the fields, Liao Yi said little else. Xu Cheng could only await the day when his cultivation opened his spiritual aperture.

Repetition made the days fly. The hundred-day foundation trial did not always last exactly one hundred days; rather, within that period, the cultivator’s internal heat would gradually gather into a mass, pulling downward, passing through the lower abdomen, the tailbone, up along the spine, entering the crown, descending to the face, into the chest, and finally returning to the dantian.

To complete the hundred-day foundation was to open the two principal meridians and form Daoist true energy.

One day, before the hundred days had elapsed, Xu Cheng’s internal heat, without any conscious guidance, coursed along a path, opening both meridians.

Was it done?

A profound comfort flooded Xu Cheng, as if he were soaking in a hot spring. Before he could savor the sensation, Liao Zhen appeared, clutching the purple-crested rooster.

Since arriving on the mountain, the bird had grown ever more magnificent, its once ordinary form now resembling a small peacock with fiery red wings.

“Congratulations, junior brother, on completing your hundred-day foundation!” Liao Zhen beamed with delight.

“Haha, this trial wasn’t so difficult after all!” Xu Cheng laughed heartily.

“Braggart! Plenty fail to pass even this first hurdle, all because their hearts are not set on cultivation. Those who fail are either sent down the mountain or made menial disciples. Count yourself lucky you’ve been diligent—now comes the grand circulation of true energy!” Liao Zhen, learning from last time, produced the same book and read its contents aloud to Xu Cheng.