In the height of summer, as dusk settled in, the sky was filled with the flurry of wings. Swallows or bats were flitting to and fro, and there were buzzing insects all around. The air was full of life, and it was lively and vibrant. At the horizon, the sun was setting, painting the clouds in a fiery red. Beneath the sunset lay a peaceful, picturesque mountain village. At the gates of the Daoist temple atop Yin-Yang Mountain, the Daoist had brought out a reclining chair and sat quietly in it, enjoying the mountain breeze, the coolness of evening, and the abundance of life. He gazed at the distant scenery, letting time slip gently by. By his side sat a cat, prim and proper, tail swaying lazily from side to side. Faint sounds of roosters crowing and dogs barking drifted up from the village below, echoing once through the mountains before reaching the temple. These were gentle echoes that calmed the heart. The Daoist wasn’t thinking of anything just then. He wasn’t thinking of the road he had taken, nor of the path ahead, nor of the old Daoists buried behind the temple. He only let his eyes take in the view, quietly lost in thought. The mountain breeze was perfectly soothing; the ancient pines rustled softly in the wind. The Daoist was, at that moment, completely at peace. Back when he still lived at the temple, during summer evenings with good weather and brilliant sunsets, he and the old Daoist would sit here together. Sometimes they’d exchange idle, wandering chatter; other times, they’d say nothing at all, simply enjoying the ultimate freedom that came from letting time pass unhurried. The temple’s crested myna would often perch on the pine at the gate, or fly through the sky, or sometimes rest right on the old Daoist’s chair arm. After he left, it had only been the old Daoist and the crested myna, hadn’t it? For a moment, Song You thought he really did hear the flap of wings. He looked up and saw a bird soar across the sky, silhouetted against the dusk. Its shape was just a black blur in the dim light, but upon closer look, it wasn’t the myna. It was a swallow. “Sir,” the swallow’s voice came from above, “shall we go harvest the rice in the valley?” “The rice in the valley...” Song You slowly returned from his reverie and, after a pause, replied, “No need. Since we’re only passing through, there’s no reason to alert them. When we truly return, seven years from now, we’ll harvest it then.” “But won’t the rice go to waste?” came the cat’s worried voice from beside him. “No,” Song You said calmly. “When the villagers notice no one’s come to harvest, they’ll do it themselves. We’re only staying a few days anyway. In the meantime, Lady Calico and Yan An, help me check for any demons or malevolent spirits nearby. Try transforming into human form and asking around in the village. In a few days, we’ll be setting off again.” “Where to this time?” the cat asked. “That’s the only place we haven’t been yet!” “You’re truly clever,” Song You said with a brief pause. Then he added softly, “Though to say we’ve never been to Yunzhou... isn’t quite accurate.” “You’ll know when we get there, Lady Calico.” “I’ve heard Yunzhou has beautiful scenery and great weather. There’s plenty of sunlight there. You can see breathtaking sunsets there, and many places feel like spring all year round...” the Daoist spoke while gazing toward the horizon. By now, only a faint strip of light remained in the sky. Before long, the world was completely immersed in night. On the dim slopes of Yin-Yang Mountain, the Daoist still hadn’t gone back inside. He continued sitting by the temple gate, sharing tales and stories of the old Daoist’s travels from long ago in the dark with the two little demon-creatures. Naturally, his telling was vague and selective. Most of it was secondhand, things he’d heard from others. But even the simple version, that she had once been fiery and hot-tempered in her youth, that she subdued others through sheer strength, that she practiced Five Elements Method and mastered the Five Elements Spell, that she was undefeated across the land, was enough to make the cat’s eyes shine with admiration. Down in the village, the night felt even more stifling than in the mountains. The oppressive summer heat made it hard for people to sleep. Bored, they gathered together with palm fans in hand, fanning not only to cool themselves but also to swat away mosquitoes. As they chatted idly, the darkness deepened until no one could see each other's faces. They relied on voices to guess who was speaking and where they were sitting, and it was a strangely intimate atmosphere. So long as it didn’t rain, nearly every summer night passed . Boring, yes. But also kind of fun in its own way. There really weren’t many other forms of entertainment. But tonight, they had a new topic to discuss. At noon that day, someone working in the fields had paused to straighten their back and wipe away sweat. Another had been sitting on a field ridge to rest. Both happened to glance up and saw the clouds and mist parting over Yin-Yang Mountain. Through the clearing fog, the faint outline of a Daoist temple emerged, and it looked simple, ancient, and mysterious. But before long, it vanished again, like a mirage. That temple was familiar to many. Why many, and not everyone? Because starting over a decade ago, that temple had started appearing and disappearing mysteriously. Sometimes it could be seen, sometimes not. Some people who went up the mountain could find it; others swore there was nothing there. It was just like the legendary immortal abodes from old tales. And in recent years, no one had been able to find it at all. Many of the young adults now raising families were only in their teens or twenties. Many of the women had only married into the village a few years ago, or ten at most. Some had merely heard about the temple, that there was once a Daoist there who was said to be otherworldly, like an immortal. Following local custom, they continued to leave a bundle of grain in the corners of the fields after harvest, and when no one came to claim it, they’d go back and harvest it themselves. But they had never seen the temple nor the Daoist. Surrounding them were even more children and teenagers. To them, the temple was like the Heavenly Palace from legend, something that only existed in stories. So now that someone had seen it again, it caused quite a stir. Some were excited, others skeptical. But it hadn’t been just one person; there were two eyewitnesses, both swearing they were telling the truth, even vouching for each other. After they finished, an old man stepped forward and added, “I think I saw a young Daoist earlier this afternoon, walking past the edge of the village, heading up the mountain along the small path.” “It’d be great if that immortal from the mountain temple really came back!” the old man drawled, “Times are getting more and more chaotic. We’re still better off here, but I’ve heard in other places, people can run into demons and ghosts just walking at dawn or dusk. If the immortal from the mountain returned, how would those creatures dare run wild?” “But who knows if it’s really true...” “If the Daoist really came back, we’ll know in a few days. Just see if the rice in the fields gets harvested!” “There’s really a Daoist temple up there?” “You think us old folks are just lying to you?” “Were the Daoists there really that powerful?” “Heh, that’s not just some story...” The old villagers began telling the younger ones tales of the Daoists from the mountain, and interestingly enough, most of them spoke about Daoist Duoxing. In the following days, news spread that monsters and evil spirits along the Jinyang Road were being eliminated one after another. It became a favorite topic during the villagers’ nightly gatherings, and it was far more entertaining than the usual gossip. At the same time, reports came in from neighboring villages about similar events: some demons were mysteriously reduced to ash, villagers only seeing a blaze from afar and hearing ghastly screams from within the fire. By the time anyone dared go closer, the creature was already burned to death. Others were struck down by thunderbolts from clear skies, or decapitated by beams of silver light descending from above. These were godlike acts, as if performed by immortals. Some saw a fierce tiger and a pack of wolves appear from nowhere, dragging off transformed monsters without leaving a trace. Without exception, by the time people arrived, the evil had already been vanquished. Naturally, many villagers began to believe the mountain Daoist had returned. Some even wanted to climb the mountain to search for the temple, to offer incense and pay their respects. But Yin-Yang Mountain remained eerily quiet. Only the ancient pines stood, bowed over, and the grass waved gently like silk. The mountain wind blew day and night, yet there wasn’t a single sign that a Daoist temple had ever existed there. No one harvested the rice in the fields either. A few days later, in front of the temple, a deep pit had appeared as if from nowhere. A trench connected it to the nearby stream, diverting water into the pit to form a small pond. Another trench led back to the stream, keeping the water flowing and fresh. Lady Calico had gone down to the rivers and streams to catch little fish and shrimp, even pulling up water plants under the Daoist’s guidance and tossing everything into the pond. Meanwhile, the Daoist had packed his belongings once again, loaded them onto the horse, and walked out of the temple. “Lady Calico, are you ready?” The Daoist, still leaning on his bamboo staff, took a few steps forward. “Creak! Bang!” The temple doors behind them shut on their own. “When we come back next time, will this little lake grow full of fish?” The Daoist was fond of Lady Calico’s way of putting things, like grow full of fish and grow full of rabbits, because there was a sense of planting and harvesting. Even this small pond, the cat called it a “little lake.” She truly had a way of seeing things differently from everyone else. The Daoist looked around, then turned back to glance once more at the temple. Naturally, there was some reluctance in his heart, but not too much sentimentality. After all, he had only come back to take a look while passing by. Before long, he turned and continued on his way. He would return again in seven years. Clouds and mist once again cloaked the mountain. The Daoist, accompanied by the calico cat and the horse, made their way down the mountain trail, the jingling of bells echoing softly as they walked beside the stream. At the same time, a swallow flew overhead. They passed the village, walked another couple of miles, and reached the main road. After leaving Lingquan County and traveling for half a day, they came upon a narrow path that could only fit one person at a time. The winding trail ran between fields and earthen ridges, leading to an ancient official road shaded by thousand-year-old cypress trees. The trees were ancient, and so was the road. This was the Jinyang Road, also known as Jade Cloud Corridor. At this time, the Daoist stopped walking. Behind him, the horse and the cat stopped as well. Even the gentle jingling of their bells fell silent. He turned around and looked, and as expected, he could no longer see the familiar mountain, nor the Daoist temple. He smiled softly and took another step forward. In an instant, the light dimmed. The sun-baked heat on his scalp was replaced with cool shade, as the dense cypress trees blocked out most of the sunlight. Ahead lay an uneven stone-paved road, dappled with shifting spots of light that filtered through the leaves. The bright and dark patterns were in sharp contrast. Thirteen years ago, he had entered Jinyang Road from this very spot. But back then, he had turned right. Now, he was turning left. Jinyang Road was originally built during the Yu Dynasty to connect Yizhou with the Guanzhong Plain, but it did not lead to Yunzhou. So after walking a short distance, the dense cypress gradually disappeared, and the legendary beauty of Jinyang Road came to an end beneath the Daoist's feet. He stepped onto another ancient road, one also filled with legend, the Five-Chi Path. Yidu was a major node on the ancient Chama Road, and Yunzhou held a vital position in the tea-horse trade. With many tea and horse merchants needing to travel between the two regions, a special trade route was constructed to connect them: the Five-Chi Path. As the name implies, the road was about five chi wide. Also built during the Yu Dynasty, it was considerably narrower than Jinyang Road and lacked its towering cypress trees. Still, the terrain between Yizhou and Yunzhou was mountainous and rugged. Building roads often required cutting through rock and climbing steep slopes. Constructing such a proper path was already an achievement. Most traders along this route used agile southwestern mountain horses to transport their goods. For that, even a narrow official road one was more than sufficient, and it was far better than the wild mountain paths of old. The Daoist continued westward along the path. Once again, it was a road he had never walked before. The trail was often busy with travelers and merchants. Because it was narrow, those passing each other came very close, close enough to see each other’s faces clearly. Yet that was likely the full extent of their connection in this life. The scenery along the road was pleasant, with frequent views of majestic mountains. He could feel the altitude gradually rising, and the temperature cooling day by day. The vegetation on the mountains subtly shifted too; the greener hues were fading, and the yellows were growing deeper. “Sir, autumn has arrived.” “Yundu is still about four hundred li away. They say the weather there is much warmer, and that it’s still like spring and summer.” This Five-Chi Path led directly from Yidu to Yundu, with almost no confusing forks along the way, though mountain springs were common there. Except for the occasional moments when the Daoist decided on a whim to climb a peak, the swallow’s scouting abilities were hardly needed on such a straightforward path. Still, it often flew ahead to check the road and report back on what lay ahead. “It truly does feel like spring all year round.” “Sir, are you planning to spend the winter in Yundu?” “Yundu is fine,” Song You replied, “but I’ve heard that Zhao Commandery has even better scenery. Best to spend the winter there.” He had already made up his mind. “After this winter, we’ll head to southern Yunzhou.” The swallow took note of Zhao Commandery, planning to fly ahead tomorrow to scout it out. The journey continued to be rife with demons and spirits. The merchants and travelers on the road were mostly regulars, and their schedules, like when they set out or where they stopped each day, were nearly fixed. So long as they didn’t oversleep during a midday nap or get delayed for other reasons, they would almost never be caught having to sleep outdoors. But the Daoist traveled as he pleased. More than once, night would fall before he found a place to stay, and he’d end up camping in the wild, often attracting unwanted attention from wandering monsters. Or worse, he’d unknowingly check into an inn run by demons. Thankfully, Lady Calico was ever-alert, and the swallow was just as vigilant. Time and again, while the Daoist slept soundly and completely unaware, the demons had already been dealt with. In the third year of the Da’an era, during autumn, the Daoist finally arrived in Yundu. At the time, Yundu was still just a small city in the southwest. Though it served as the administrative seat of its prefecture, it couldn’t compare to Yidu in terms of economy or culture. But the weather... The weather truly was excellent.