“Ah, yes, it’s quite late indeed. I hadn’t even noticed how high the moon’s risen. Chatting with you, fellow Daoist, has been such a pleasure. If we had the time, we ought to drink and talk for three days and nights.” Daoist Beishan’s face was flushed red, swaying slightly as he spoke. This was the typical look of a Daoist in these times. “By the way...” Just as Song You was preparing to take his leave and return to his room, he suddenly remembered something and stopped in his tracks. “What is it, fellow Daoist?” “I recall, back in this very hall years ago, I once witnessed your marvelous technique, summoning painted celestial maidens to perform music and dance. I was quite impressed. But why haven’t I seen it tonight?” “Ah, so that’s what you wanted to see!” Daoist Beishan laughed heartily and said, “I thought after traveling the lands, witnessing the world’s wonders, you would’ve grown bored of my little tricks, so I didn’t bother to show off. But since you wish to see it, perfect timing! I’ve developed some new ones over the past couple of years.” With that, he clapped his hands and turned to look at the wall. “Summon the celestial maidens to liven things up.” Song You also looked toward the wall with him. By the dim candlelight and pale moonlight, a painting could be vaguely seen on the wall; it was slightly different from what it had been eleven years ago. It still depicted a lavish palace interior, with sheer drapes and no guests at the banquet table. A group of graceful, beautiful women lingered at the edges of the hall, leaving a wide space in the center. There, a white-clad woman was dancing with a sword. Suddenly, the figures in the painting began to move. One after another, silhouettes flew out from the painting. The scene was almost exactly as it had been all those years ago. As the figures emerged from the wall, they were small and faint at first; it looked unreal. But with every cun they moved forward, they grew larger and more vivid. The nearby calico cat watched in a daze, her paws twitching, barely able to resist the urge to pounce. In an instant, the hall filled with many candle stands, illuminating it far more brightly. A circle of beautiful women now sat around the edges—some holding pipas, others playing guqin or guzheng, and a few with bamboo flutes. At the center stood the white-clad celestial maiden, slender and elegant, with a sword in hand. Almost the moment her feet touched the ground, the music began without any delay. The pipa led the lively and quick melody accompanied by the soft, clear notes of bamboo flutes that echoed throughout the hall. At some point, the floor of the hall had become a watery surface. It looked deep, yet also shallow and uncertain. The sword-dancing maiden showed no hesitation. As soon as she landed, she began her performance, spinning gracefully across the water in perfect rhythm with the music. Her long sword swayed with her movements, her flowing sleeves fluttered like mist. She glided across the water without sinking, sending ripples outward with every step. The scene was breathtakingly beautiful, so beautiful it felt almost unreal. Suddenly, the music changed, shifting from lively and bright to calm and graceful. The pipa receded into the background, replaced by the guqin as the lead, with the bamboo flute now playing a supporting role. The sword-dancing maiden’s style transformed as well. Gone was the sharp and fierce blade work; in its place emerged a gentle, flowing elegance. Every movement of her hands and feet, her bends and poses, now exuded a soft, ethereal beauty. It was a dance that seemed almost otherworldly. Song You watched, utterly entranced. “Ten years ago, I visited the prefectural capital and saw a renowned sword dancer from Changjing,” said Daoist Beishan proudly. “I was awestruck. After returning, I studied for nine years straight and finally recreated this set of sword dance.” He was clearly very pleased with himself, and perhaps even more proud of this than of his Daoist cultivation, wisdom, or magical skills. “What do you think?” “Such a dance is beyond the reach of ordinary mortals.” “Hahaha...” Daoist Beishan threw his head back and laughed heartily. The music floated gently, and the celestial maidens soared through the air. The dancer glided above the water with her sword spinning in hand, truly like an immortal descending from the heavens. The spirit of poetry, wine, and the heroic grace of a wandering immortal were all embodied in this sword dance. Below, the water rippled again and again. Finally, the celestial maiden gently touched down on the water's surface. Splash. The surface of the water stirred with a soft ripple. Now standing before Song You was Daoist Beishan once again. His expression was calm, though the easy confidence and generous composure he had the night before had faded somewhat. Clearly, the effects of the wine had worn off, leaving behind a more rational and cautious man. The words he had said, like water once spilled, could still be taken back. But first, this was a movement aligned with the will of Heaven and Earth and could not be stopped. Secondly, Song You’s cultivation and divine abilities were far beyond anything he could match. Third, the Four Seasons Spring was a unique and wondrous thing: its spiritual resonance would quickly dissipate once removed from its spring. Even someone proficient in the Four Seasons Rotation Method could not preserve its power easily, and extracting it was a task that demanded real skill. So what harm was there in letting him take some? Daoist Beishan cupped his hands behind his back, still retaining some of his original grace, and said to Song You, “Fellow Daoist, you must have already recognized that this is the Four Seasons Spring.” Song You looked toward the spring ahead. This was the rear mountain of the Fuyun Temple. Within it, there lay a natural spring not connected to any river or external flow. It was a manifestation of condensed spiritual energy from Heaven and Earth, about the size of a small house. The water flowed from it gently, channeled down a single, ordinary piece of bamboo, into a pool below. This pool, having been bathed in the Spring's spiritual resonance for countless years, had gained a spiritual nature of its own, allowing it to retain the Four Seasons Spring’s essence without rapid dissipation. At this moment, the pool was full of lotus roots and blossoms. It was summer, and the lotus flowers were in full bloom, each one strikingly beautiful. Naturally, there were also other rare and exotic aquatic plants growing alongside them. All of them were species that could only thrive in water. Song You, being a practitioner of Four Seasons Rotation Method, naturally sensed the immense vitality and spiritual force within the spring. In fact, his sensitivity to this particular type of spiritual resonance allowed him to feel it even more clearly than others. And yet, as was often the case with supreme treasures, the more wondrous a treasure was, the harder it was to harness or take away. This Four Seasons Spring had been in the Fuyun Temple for who knew how many years. In all that time, aside from a few past grandmasters of the temple who may have been able to use it properly, the current generation could do little more than grow flowers, herbs, and nurture magical plants with it. Not only did the lotuses bloom year-round and grow rapidly, but other spiritual herbs and rare plants did just as well in its waters. Even the rarest aquatic herbs and flowers, no matter how sensitive to their environment, could survive in this spring. Any spiritual plant requiring long years to mature would rapidly ripen once planted in these waters. Some aquatic treasures thought to be extinct in the outside world could still be found thriving here. On the surface, the spring already seemed to possess boundless efficacy and miraculous uses. In any era, in any place, this spring would be considered a peerless treasure, and yet, what the Fuyun Temple had been using was merely a sliver of its spiritual potential. “The Four Seasons Spring truly holds endless spiritual resonance... and truly, it is hard to extract,” Song You said after a pause, glancing toward Daoist Beishan. “Is it really as you said, that I may freely draw from it to help form the underworld?” He didn’t speak loudly, just enough for those nearby to hear. There were seven disciples accompanying Daoist Beishan. Most of them looked curious. They had grown up around the Four Seasons Spring, knowing it to be the temple’s greatest treasure, the distilled essence of heaven and earth. But they also knew that once its water left the spring’s source or the pool below it, its spiritual resonance would rapidly dissipate, rendering it little different from ordinary water. They had no idea how Song You intended to take it away. Some of the others looked pensive. A few seemed slightly distressed, not enough to speak up, but clearly feeling the sting. That distress, however, seemed to stem more from stinginess than genuine worry; no one actually believed Song You could take very much. “You and I get along quite well,” Daoist Beishan said with a smile, “and you intend to use this spring for a righteous cause. This is in line with the will of heaven, a fate not easily opposed. This spring came into being in this very place, most likely because it was destined for this moment. And besides...” He chuckled. “I’m not the sort to go back on my word.” “Fellow Daoist, you’re a righteous man!” Song You gave a respectful compliment, then retrieved a small white jade vial from his sash. It was no larger than the palm of a hand. “Then I’ll accept without reservation.” The task of forging the underworld and gathering its spirits was tied to the very fate of the world. Song You dared not hesitate, lest he have to make a second trip. He held the jade bottle in one hand and pointed toward the spring with the other. A stream of spiritual light burst from his fingers; it was the seasonal spiritual energy. As each thread of spiritual energy touched the spring water, it bonded with it, preserving the spring’s resonance. The water then floated up from the pool and streamed into the jade bottle. Though small in appearance, the bottle had astonishing capacity. Spiritual energy flowed without pause. So did the spring water, which rose from the pool below, carried upward in a steady stream, vanishing into the bottle. At first, the assembled Daoists looked on in amazement. Some of the more broad-minded among them even clapped and praised Song You for his skill. But when they saw the waterline in the pool drop visibly and rapidly and the stream continuing uninterrupted, with Song You showing no signs of strain or effort, their expressions began to grow serious. And then the pool nearly emptied. Now, they were all exchanging uneasy glances. The Daoist had not stopped, and the bottle still showed no sign of being full. Until finally, the pool was completely dry. Song You now turned his gaze toward the mountain spring itself. The Daoists’ expressions changed drastically. The springwater still flowed, and it was flowing faster. It streamed out of the source more quickly than before, rushing toward the jade bottle as if drawn by some unseen force. And it grew faster and faster. Many of the Daoists instinctively stepped forward, looking first at Song You, then at Daoist Beishan, before stepping back again. Daoist Beishan, too, had lost his former composure. He looked at Song You repeatedly, raising his hand to speak, but stopping short each time. Before their eyes, the spiritual resonance behind the spring’s source was visibly shrinking, its spiritual energy growing weaker and weaker. By the time the Daoist finally stopped, what had once been a mass of spiritual energy the size of a small house nestled in the mountain had dwindled to less than the size of a millstone. The water flowing from the spring mouth had gone from a bubbling stream to a slow, intermittent drip. “Many thanks, fellow Daoist. And my thanks to all you honored Daoists,” Song You said as he put the jade bottle away. “The spring itself remains, and its spiritual resonance still exists. I’ve just drawn slightly more than expected, and it will take a number of years to recover.” “This...” someone murmured. “Fellow Daoist, do you regret it?” Song You asked. “Fellow Daoist, your spiritual energy is... inexhaustible, isn’t it?” Daoist Beishan said, still stunned. “It has reached its limit,” Song You replied calmly. “Ah...” Daoist Beishan sighed at last, waving his hand repeatedly, his eyes flicking with deep pain toward the spring that now trickled like a leaky pot. “The day you saved our ancient tree, I knew this debt would one day be repaid.” “No such thing,” Song You replied. “Then I shall take my leave, fellow Daoist. And to all you honored Daoists, thank you for your hospitality.” Song You tucked the jade bottle away, cupped his hands in a respectful farewell, and turned to leave. His jujube-red horse, carrying his saddlebag, silently turned and followed behind. The calico cat poked its head around, glanced this way and that, then quickly trotted after them. As they passed the ancient tree in the outer courtyard, Song You, in a good mood, paused to take out the jade bottle and pour a little Four Seasons Spring water at its base as a gift. With the soft jingle of the horse’s bell, the Daoist exited the temple. He thanked and bade farewell to the Daoists once more, then descended the mountain steps. The sound of the bell grew fainter and fainter.