Chapter 129: Praying for Clear Skies and Rain

The third act of the ordination ritual was the bestowal of the Dharma registers. The Young Celestial Master proceeded to the Golden Hall to retrieve the registers from the Celestial Master’s repository before returning to the plaza. Forty-nine "Taishang Three-Five Du Gong Scripture Registers," radiating a clear, precious light, were bestowed one by one; those who received them were moved to tears.

This was the profound heritage and advantage of Dragon-Tiger Mountain. These children, who had yet to begin their formal cultivation, were already a step ahead in refining spiritual energy simply by holding the registers. Once they opened their inner chambers, they would place the registers within, accelerating their spiritual growth even further.

The final act of the ritual was the expression of gratitude to the four directions: to the Ancestral Celestial Master, the current Celestial Master, the Young Celestial Master, the recommending masters, and the guests from all directions. Amidst the echoes of congratulations, the newly ordained disciples departed. Inside the Golden Hall, many were already heaping praise upon the Young Celestial Master for his extraordinary poise and his suitability to inherit the great legacy.

In this harmonious atmosphere, accompanied by another display of auspicious omens, the proceedings moved to the second agenda of the Dragon-Tiger Dharma Assembly: Alchemy.

Alchemy was the foundation of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, and it was essential to showcase it at such a grand event. As the ceremonial officials chanted, Dragon-Tiger Mountain and the guests from all directions sent out disciples from the first and second tiers to perform alchemy and join in the celebration. Both the Four Masters and the Two Ge lineages had participants. Alchemy was a Great Dao, and since this was the Dragon-Tiger Dharma Assembly, even the Lushan Sword Sect, which usually never practiced alchemy, shamelessly sent two disciples—the maximum allowed per sect, as per the assembly's rules.

Some glanced at the Sanqing Mountain spectator stand. "Wait, is Cheng Yifu not participating?" they wondered. "Does the master of both talismans and swords not know alchemy?" Cheng Xinzhan remained seated, motionless; naturally, he did not. From Sanqing Mountain, it was Fang Weimin and Zhu Jianrong who took the field.

In the end, forty or fifty people took their places. The meditation cushions had been laid out in neat, uniform rows with ample spacing. The alchemists sat down and produced their respective furnaces. Some were only waist-high, while others reached the height of a building; they varied in size, shape, and color—a dazzling array.

As the host, the Young Celestial Master announced the rules. As always, the prescription and medicinal materials were provided by Dragon-Tiger Mountain. These were previously unknown formulas, ensuring fairness for all. The participants had one hour; whoever produced the best result would be the winner.

Some might ask: although the formulas were claimed to be "previously unknown," had the Dragon-Tiger Mountain disciples seen them beforehand? Likely not. Each new formula was conceived on the spot in the Golden Hall, with a guest suggesting the theme and the Celestial Master devising the prescription right then and there. As masters of the fourth and fifth tiers, they had no need to collude or deceive in such matters. In reality, the participants on the field were the ones reaping a great benefit, receiving a never-before-seen formula created by the Celestial Master himself for free.

This was the remarkable nature of Dragon-Tiger Mountain. Relying solely on cronyism, isolationism, or hereditary succession would never make one the leader of the Daoist sects. "Half of the world’s alchemical formulas come from Dragon-Tiger Mountain." This was the source of their confidence. Furthermore, Dragon-Tiger Mountain sent out talisman water to the mortal world every year to heal the sick, and their reputation in the secular world was impeccable.

The Young Celestial Master went to the Golden Hall, received the formula from the Celestial Master, and then passed it to the alchemists on the plaza to be read in turn. Time was limited, and everyone read quickly yet with extreme care. The formula contained not only a list of ingredients but also ratios, dosages, sequences, and the nuances of furnace fire—yin and yang, gentle and intense, and the stages of transformation. How much one understood depended on individual insight.

Once everyone had finished reading, the Young Celestial Master collected the formula and sent people to deliver the medicinal materials, basket by basket and cabinet by cabinet—a truly generous display. Only when each household began to kindle their fires and warm their furnaces did the Young Celestial Master find a moment to relax and introduce the medicine to be refined.

He announced that the pill was called the "Tiger Bone and Dragon Tendon Pill"—a name clearly coined by the Celestial Master on the spot to add luster to the assembly. Taking this pill could enhance spiritual power, treat external wounds from blades, and heal internal injuries. If the potency was strong enough, it could even improve one's constitution, transforming a mortal body to have the strength of tiger bones and the resilience of dragon tendons. Upon hearing this, everyone realized the value of the formula. It was a superb medicine for both internal and external wounds, as well as a tonic for the young and old alike.

The judging method was simple: they would test whose medicine possessed the greatest potency. As for who would do the testing, that was naturally left to the famous "mountain monkeys" of Dragon-Tiger Mountain.

On the plaza, the furnace fires glowed, and the alchemical smoke wove into clouds of color, filling the air with fragrance—a grand, majestic sight truly befitting the immortals. Among the participants, some stood out, their alchemical smoke forming strange phenomena that lingered above their furnaces. Cheng Xinzhan saw clearly that Fang Weimin’s smoke took the shape of a white tiger crouching on his furnace, while Zhu Jianrong’s smoke radiated a scorching red light, drawing admiring glances.

Yet, there were those who lacked skill; some furnaces exploded, leaving the alchemists covered in soot and shame. The most baffling, however, were the two sword immortals from Lushan. They had no furnace at all; after memorizing the formula, they simply sat down and meditated. Cheng Xinzhan looked at the Lushan stand, only to see the elders watching the proceedings with great interest, showing not a hint of embarrassment.

Cheng Xinzhan was a layman watching the spectacle. He didn't understand the intricacies of yin and yang or the balance of ingredients, but watching the dazzling spiritual fires and the mysterious smoke was entertaining enough. As the hour drew to a close, most alchemists reined in their fires, waiting to open the lids.

The Young Celestial Master was precise—an hour meant an hour. Once the time was up, he shouted, "Open the furnaces!"

Instantly, a riot of colors and fragrances burst forth, accompanied by myriad auspicious signs. The Young Celestial Master beckoned, and the monkeys, who had been brought over and could no longer contain themselves, scrambled toward the alchemists, holding their hands high above their heads and begging for the pills, looking incredibly clever.

Two unlucky ones, a bit slower than the rest, had to walk over to the two Lushan swordsmen, empty-handed. Even a monkey knew that without a furnace, how could one refine a pill? At this moment, some hesitated. Since it was a new formula and the pills had never been seen before, no one knew the side effects. Fearing their pills might be impure and that the alchemical toxins would harm the monkeys, they voiced their concerns. This was the seemingly dull-witted Fang Weimin.

The Young Celestial Master was surprised; he hadn't expected anyone to worry about such a thing. They were using monkeys, not humans, after all. "This Daoist need not worry. With us here, we will naturally not let any harm come to the monkeys," a Dragon-Tiger Mountain elder interjected to answer for him. Fang Weimin nodded, his mind put at ease.

Those who had successfully formed pills took them from their furnaces and offered them to the monkeys. Those who had failed—producing only powder, charcoal, or sludge—naturally did not offer their work to avoid embarrassment. As soon as the monkeys received the pills, they devoured them impatiently, and suddenly, each of them began to glow with a mysterious light.

Everyone waited a while, and seeing the monkeys leaping about without any signs of weakness or pain, they were relieved—at least no one had refined a poison pill. Afterward, the dozens of lucky monkeys who had consumed the pills were brought to the center of the plaza. Each was given an iron staff, and they were told to divide into teams and spar like martial artists. This was part of the assembly's entertainment.

The monkeys wielded the staves with such speed and fluidity that they were not inferior to some martial arts grandmasters. Those in attendance who possessed ocular arts or spiritual vision could tell at a glance that while these monkeys, raised in the immortal mountains, were naturally spirited, they had been mere mortal flesh before consuming the pills. But after taking them, they handled the iron staves with ease and showed no fear of being struck; though they grimaced, there were no bruises or broken skin—a testament to the pill's miraculous effects.

As the monkeys danced with their staves, the differences in potency became clear. Those who had received stronger medicine were vigorous, while those with weaker pills eventually succumbed to the blows, dropping their staves and fleeing in pain. After a flurry of clashing iron, a victor emerged, and a "Monkey King" was crowned.

Looking at the Monkey King now, after only a short time, it had grown significantly in size and was radiating a faint light—a sign that the medicine hadn't been fully absorbed. Despite being struck countless times by iron staves, it showed no wounds and no signs of pain. When they checked whose pill the Monkey King had eaten, it was, as expected, a disciple of Dragon-Tiger Mountain. Two others took second and third place, having consumed pills from a Jingming sect disciple and Fang Weimin, respectively.

The Young Celestial Master announced the rankings. "Improper. The third place shall move to second."

Just as he finished, a voice came from the Golden Hall, overriding him. The Young Celestial Master showed no sign of displeasure; instead, he bowed his head to listen, for he recognized his father's voice. "The Celestial Master is correct. The student from Sanqing Mountain produced eleven pills in one furnace and, out of kindness, gave the monkey the one with the weakest potency," another voice echoed from the hall. The Jingming disciple bowed in agreement; it was the Vice Sect Leader of the Jingming sect. "All are outstanding talents! Hahaha!" Cheng Xinzhan recognized the final laugh as belonging to Sect Leader Lu.

Once the dignitaries finished speaking, the Young Celestial Master re-announced the rankings and added, "These three may enter the Hall of Consecrated Seals after the assembly to observe the 'Yangping Zhi Du Gong Seal' left by the Ancestral Celestial Master."

The announcement triggered a massive wave of astonishment. That was the world's number one seal! A ten-thousand-year-old Daoist treasure. If there were still a few spiritual treasures left in the world, the Celestial Master’s seal was surely among them—a treasure even more renowned than the Celestial Master’s sword. What an incredible opportunity! To grasp even a fraction of the true essence of the Dharma seal would be an extraordinary protective technique.

Amidst the envious gazes of the crowd, the three returned to their seats, and the monkeys were led away. With two segments concluded, the hosts and guests took a break to chat and drink. By the afternoon, under a clear, cloudless sky, the third agenda began: Praying for Sun or Rain.

Praying for weather was the foundation of the Daoist path. If one only engaged in killing, one was of the demonic path; if one only sought to be desireless, one was a hermit. To dwell in the mountains but step out when needed—that was the true Daoist. Providing for the people and the harvest was the original duty of a Daoist.

This practice was also the root of Thunder Method cultivation; the method was originally intended to ensure favorable weather, with demon-slaying coming only later. Thus, this competition was a test of Thunder Method, the signature skill of a Daoist. However, in this day and age, one knew how many were obsessed with flying swords or calling down lightning, yet how many still remembered the art of praying for weather? Everyone knew the answer.

For this segment, Dragon-Tiger Mountain set no limit on the number of participants; anyone could compete. The top three would earn the right to visit the Hall of Seals. If any Dragon-Tiger Mountain disciples were among the top three, the reward would be extended to the next in line. It was a generous offer, yet given the high stakes, fewer people participated than in the alchemy competition.

At this moment, Cheng Yifu and Cheng Xinzhan moved. Leaving their seats and informing their teachers, they stepped onto the plaza. Cheng Xinzhan kept his father's words in mind: to achieve the Dao and become an immortal was not just to escape the world, but to save it. He knew the Thunder Method, and he knew how to pray for rain.

In the end, sixteen people stepped forward: four from Dragon-Tiger Mountain, two from Gezao Mountain, two from Sanqing Mountain, one from Shuji Mountain, five from Bingfeng Mountain, and three from Xishan. All came from the Four Masters and Two Ge lineages.

The Young Celestial Master placed an altar in the center of the plaza and announced the rules: the art demanded that rain come when commanded and stop when ordered, with no delays. If all could achieve this, they would be judged on the volume and area of the rainfall. For this trial, the rain was to fall only on the festival plaza, with a precision of three inches and forty-eight points. Many paled at this—recalling rain from a clear blue sky was difficult enough; to control it with such precision was beyond the reach of second-tier cultivators. But since they had already taken the field, they could not retreat.

The Dragon-Tiger Mountain disciples went first. The first practitioner raised a banner painted with lightning. He waved it, and thunder rumbled, yet no clouds gathered—let alone rain. It was the classic "all thunder, no rain." The Young Celestial Master snorted, a sound that rang louder than the thunder to the practitioner, who hurriedly withdrew.

The second performed similarly. By the third, the crowd perked up. He used a sword modeled after the Celestial Master’s, chanting and gesturing until a breeze stirred and clouds gathered. As he threw the sword into the air, lightning flashed, and a few drops of rain fell. "Good!" someone cheered, but the rain stopped almost as quickly as it began.

The final Dragon-Tiger participant was different; even the Young Celestial Master nodded in acknowledgment. He raised five triangular command flags. With a series of mudras, the green flag rose—wind came. The white flag rose—clouds gathered. The purple—thunder rolled. The black—rain fell. It was crisp and efficient. When the rain reached about three inches, he raised a gold flag to stop it, but the rain persisted. The practitioner grew anxious, changing his mudras repeatedly, but the rain fell for another half-hour before finally stopping. The Young Celestial Master nodded with satisfaction; after all, too much rain was better than none, as it would make it harder for those who followed.

The Shenxiao sect went next. They understood that in this test, the earlier the better, so they sent their most skilled practitioner first. He used a stack of thick thunder talismans and paper effigies to assist. As he cast the talismans, wind, clouds, thunder, and rain followed in quick succession. He managed to stop the rain at nearly four inches—a bit over, but far better than the Dragon-Tiger practitioner's performance. The Shenxiao sect erupted in cheers; they had secured the lead.

At the Sanqing Mountain stand, Zhao Wuji sighed. "Dragon-Tiger Mountain practices both alchemy and thunder, and our Sanqing Mountain practices all methods, but in terms of pure Thunder Method, we are indeed inferior to Shenxiao. Moreover, the current trend is to pursue the destructive power of thunder, forgetting its purpose in praying for weather. Even I am guilty of this. In the Yingyuan Office, new disciples only want to go to the Beiji Department, not the Penglai Department."

Ren Wushi nodded, stroking his beard. "True. But having this segment in the assembly serves as a reminder not to forget our origins."

"Not forgetting one's origins—that is not easy!" Zhao Wuji replied, already planning to raise the status of the Penglai Department upon his return.

On the plaza, the remaining practitioners could not match the Shenxiao disciple. The Gezao Mountain disciples smiled and deferred, as did the Jingming sect, leaving the remaining attempts to the others.