Chapter Fourteen: The Search for the Book

A fiery red cloud drifted leisurely from the peaks of Mount Yinshou. The cloud meandered unsteadily, swaying this way and that—now to the left, now to the right, sometimes rising skyward, sometimes sinking as though it might fall. Fortunately, the sky here was filled with clouds, so it attracted no attention. Soon enough, the cloud stabilized, descending slowly, passing first through the Milky Sea, then through the Rainbow Sea, weaving its way among the mountains.

Atop the cloud, Yunqi held a piece of yellow talisman paper between his fingers. On this talisman, characters in the cloud script were drawn, swirling to form a pattern of auspicious clouds. At the center of this pattern was a string of purple dots arranged in the likeness of the Northern Dipper. Yunqi’s thumb rested on the handle of the dipper, and as he rubbed his thumb over it, the fiery cloud beneath him shifted and followed his command—most convenient indeed.

This cloud-controlling talisman had been a gift from Daoist Ji Xuan, who, knowing Yunqi had yet to master the art of guiding qi, had thoughtfully presented it to him. Such an item, it must be said, would fetch a handsome sum if sold on its own.

Following his original route, he flew past Mount Xianwan, Mount Dawan, and the Azalea Valley, making his way back to Mount Xiaowan.

Mount Xiaowan was dotted with many ferry crossings. This time, instead of stopping at Shaoyang Ferry—the one closest to his dwelling—he went straight to Lanting Ferry, which was near the summit.

Once he landed, he rolled up the talisman, and the cloud beneath his feet dispersed, transforming into a strand of red thread that coiled onto his left chest, forming a simple yet evocative red coiled-dragon emblem.

He had even given his fiery cloud a new name: Dragon Chariot.

He made his way toward the summit, heading for the Academy of Teachings.

Though Yunqi had not been long on Mount Xiaowan, the library of the Academy was already the place he frequented most and was now quite familiar to him.

This time, he had come in pursuit of what Master Su Kongyu had mentioned the day before—the construction of a temple within the mind.

He had pondered it seriously. To accomplish anything, one must do it well; moreover, Master Su Kongyu had emphasized that this concerned the concentration of thought and the opening of spiritual chambers.

In constructing a Daoist temple, two things mattered most: the architectural style, and the deity to be enshrined.

First, the architectural style. Daoist temples had a history spanning tens of thousands of years, with each school and sect differing in their methods. Generations of master artisans had innovated upon tradition, creating an array of complexity that defied description. Yet, with so many buildings standing as examples, patterns could be discerned. If one read widely and observed keenly, clarifying the fundamental structure—especially the forms and uses of beams, columns, brackets, tiles, bricks, and lacquer—the rest was a matter of aesthetic refinement and time invested.

Learning was never the hard part.

The second matter—the deity to be enshrined—was more troublesome for him.

Yunqi harbored a respectful awe for gods and spirits. Though he had barely set foot beyond the mountain gate, this world was still largely unfamiliar to him. Whether the library held the illustrated references he needed, he did not know. Whether he could focus his spirit upon an image, he could not tell.

Lost in thought, Yunqi stepped into the library.

The library of the Academy was arranged in a square, with a central courtyard pond—the Square Pond Library, as it was named.

Upon entering, he found the index inscribed in tiny, flyspeck script on a screen as tall as two men. He stepped closer, searching carefully.

Soon, he found his target. Having ascertained its approximate location, he began weaving through the corridors of the square-shaped building.

He came to a halt before a section, gazed up at the towering shelves, and began searching. His eyes settled, one after another, on several spots. Using a ladder, he retrieved the volumes he sought.

They were:

The Architectural Canons of Daoist Temples
The Southern Sect’s Rites of Worship and Construction
The Shi Family’s Building Regulations
The Monastic Gardens of Ten Directions
Paradises and Grotto-Heavens of the Temples
Records of Great Halls and Small Shrines
Daoist Temple Standards through the Ages (from the Yongle Encyclopedia)
A Survey of Wudang Mountains
Treasury of Stone and Metal
The Carpenter’s Treatise
Origins of Lacquer and Color

He carried these books to the borrowing desk and registered them with the jade token at his waist.

These volumes, whether on paper, bamboo, or leather, were all mundane works, containing no divine intent. They could be bought or borrowed freely, with no charge unless damaged.

Possessing an eidetic memory, Yunqi naturally chose to borrow, wasting no coin needlessly.

Having stored the books temporarily at the desk, he returned to the library, resuming his search amid the sea of volumes.

Ascending to the second floor, he found fewer paper books and bamboo scrolls. Instead, leather scrolls, silk manuscripts, jade slips, and gold-leaf texts became more common, gleaming with a sacred luster.

After wandering for a long while, Yunqi arrived before a row of cabinets filled with albums and scrolls, mostly of silk and gold leaf, their sheen imparting a sense of sanctity.

He inspected them one by one. The titles read:

The Compendium of Divine Immortals of the Three Teachings—Fragment—Copy
Illustrated Guide to the Primeval Mountains and Seas—Fragment—Copy
The Star Lords of Emperor Jun’s Celestial Court—Fragment—Copy
The Star Lords of the Vast Heaven—Fragment—Copy
Atlas of Rivers and Mountains—Fragment—Copy

He could not help but chuckle—why were they all fragments and copies?

Such volumes could not be casually perused, for they contained divine intent. Once opened, that essence would gradually dissipate; thus, one had to purchase them outright.

These illustrated scrolls were far from cheap. The thickest, The Compendium of Divine Immortals of the Three Teachings, even as a mere fragment and unremarkable copy, still cost fifteen gold coins; the rest, at least one gold each.

Yunqi’s purse began to feel painfully thin.

He had hoped, as with the temple architecture, to gather a variety of references for confidence. But now, it seemed, his pool of choices for the principal deity in his imagined temple hall would be limited indeed.

He redoubled his search, poring over the shelves with increasing care.

At last, his eyes lit up as he spotted a scroll, its seal inscribed:

Screen of the Twenty-Eight Star Lords of the Vast Heaven—Fragment—The Seven Mansions of the White Tiger—Warring States Rubbing.

Yunqi was no longer wholly ignorant—he knew that the Celestial Court of the Vast Heaven consisted of twenty-eight star lords, each with their own domain. These star lords were once beast spirits who attained the Dao, merging with the five elements and the dualities of yin and yang—a most suitable focus for inner visualization. Though their enlightenment dated back to the Shang and Zhou dynasties, which was rather ancient.

Yet, the twenty-eight were divided among the Four Celestial Symbols, and the Seven Mansions of the White Tiger encompassed both solar and lunar principles, as well as the five phases of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth—offering ample choice. This partial but complete rubbing, at just one hundred fifty taels of silver, seemed a much better value than the other fragments.

Without further hesitation, he took up the scroll and continued searching the section.

But failing to find anything more suitable, he settled on The Seven Mansions of the White Tiger.

At the borrowing desk, Yunqi watched as the librarian drew a small sword and, with a swift motion, sliced a gold ingot clean in half—a move as deft as Daoist Ji Xuan’s earlier gesture. Yunqi thought to himself that he must learn this trick as well.

He calculated: the Academy’s grant of five gold was already half gone, spent on clouds and books; add to that forty taels of silver spent last night on drink for the two neighborhoods, and his funds were depleting far too quickly for comfort!