Chapter Twenty-Seven: Unknown Hero

“My son!”

The distant figures finally arrived.

Three middle-aged men approached, dressed in cobalt-blue Taoist robes embroidered with birds, identical to the young hero’s attire, clearly also belonging to the Golden Aspect Sect.

Yet these three arrived by riding the wind, a feat possible only for those who had reached the Second Realm.

One among them, appearing the eldest, noticed the golden light in the young hero’s arms; his eyelids twitched uncontrollably. Carefully, he reached out and pinched the golden light, returning it to the young hero’s mouth.

He then cradled the young hero in his own arms, extending two fingers from which a ball of golden light emerged. He pressed it against the young hero’s jaw, then moved it down through the mouth and throat, finally resting it on the right chest. After a pause, he withdrew his hand and exhaled deeply.

The other two men also breathed a sigh of relief, saying in unison,

“It’s not that your father/uncle wishes to lecture—”

“Cough, cough!”

The young hero suddenly began to cough, blood flecking his lips.

The eldest hurried to ease his breathing, glaring at the two who had spoken. “We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

Both men jumped in fright, nodding repeatedly. “Yes, back home, back home!”

At this moment, the young hero suddenly sat up, as if wishing to speak. Yet he seemed to have injured his lungs, struggling for breath, words coming with difficulty. “Many, many thanks to my benefactor for saving me. Now, now my elders are here; may I ask you to meet them so we can properly express our gratitude.”

Hearing this, the three men, faces still anxious, instantly grew solemn and alert, exchanging glances in the span of a single breath, then all turned their attention toward a nearby island.

The sound of grass parting was heard.

A young Taoist emerged leisurely from the undergrowth, summoning a crimson cloud to step upon, riding it toward the group. He raised his left hand, palm up before his chest, and curled the middle and ring fingers of his right hand, tips pressed to the palm, thumb, index, and little fingers extended upright. He gently placed the back of his right hand upon his left palm and bowed his head.

“Peace be unto you all. This humble one offers his respects.”

The three middle-aged Taoists glanced at each other. The eldest, still cradling the young hero, was unable to move, but the other two stood upright, left hands raised palm-up before their chests, right hands laid gently across the left palm, fingertips pointing left, four fingers pressed together, thumb hooking the tips of the index and middle fingers, ring and little fingers straight, nodding to Yunqi.

“Peace be unto you, young friend.”

Among the two, a man with a long beard spoke again, “I am Taixi of the Golden Aspect Sect, Jiang Yanxing, Daoist name Xuanhui. May I ask from which master of Mount Sanqing you hail?”

The Taoist replied, “Greetings, Master Xuanhui. My surname is Cheng, given name Yunqi. I am a registered disciple of Mount Sanqing, though my cultivation is shallow and I am not yet formally entered into the records, so I dare not name my master.”

“Hmm.” Jiang Yanxing nodded lightly. “I see. Our meeting by the wayside is fate. I have heard from my nephew that you have saved his life. Please, come with us to my humble abode so we may properly thank you.”

Yunqi waved his hand. “We are all of the Daoist path, branches of the same tree. Since we met by the wayside, lending aid was only natural. No need for thanks. You should hurry and take this young hero back to your sect for healing.”

Jiang Yanxing looked toward his nephew.

The young hero replied hoarsely, “Benefactor, the gaunt Taoist has not truly been injured; his strength is undiminished and may well be lurking nearby. You should return with us to the sect, lest traveling alone put you in danger!”

These words made sense and reminded Yunqi that the gaunt Taoist’s banner was formidable, and he had not yet revealed other techniques. Yunqi knew he was no match at present. After a moment’s thought, he no longer declined, clasped his hands in salute,

“Then I shall accept your hospitality. Please wait a moment; I have been traveling here and settled for practice. Allow me to retrieve my belongings.”

The young hero’s face grew more apologetic. “Please do, benefactor. It seems I have disturbed your meditation.”

Yunqi waved, indicating the words were too heavy. With that, he rode his cloud toward the osmanthus grove.

Soon, Yunqi collected the Eight Trigrams Bell, picked up his bundle, preparing to depart. He noticed the massive stone recently hollowed out, sighed at its loss, and mused that “circumstances change, water takes no fixed form”—how true those words proved. He had barely begun to settle when trouble arrived, and now dared not linger.

Before boarding his cloud, Yunqi’s eyes darted, and he picked up several lake stones washed ashore, stuffing them into his pack.

Yunqi then rejoined the group.

The Golden Aspect elders, seeing Yunqi approach with a heavy bundle on his back, exchanged glances, each forming their own thoughts.

“Young friend, lend a hand and dismiss your cloud; this lake is vast, and we still have some distance to our mountain gate.”

Yunqi complied obediently.

Thus, the three elders carried the two youths, riding the wind, vanishing in an instant.

Thanks to these three local dignitaries, Yunqi was treated to magnificent sights of Poyang Lake, which he would never have dared to explore alone in this strange country of waters.

The party headed north. Though they traveled atop the lake, with gale winds rushing at their faces, the northern shore remained elusive; after a hundred miles, mist and waves stretched endlessly in every direction, ten thousand acres of shimmering blue with no boundary in sight. If not for the sun overhead, one could hardly tell direction.

Sometimes, when the lake was windless and the waters still, it seemed like walking within a mirror; sometimes, passing spirit isles and immortal mountains, beholding rare blossoms and exotic woods, it was as if entering a painting; sometimes, encountering sand gulls gathered in flight, brocade-scaled fish leaping through the waves, one might think they had entered a realm of birds and fishes.

Indeed,
Accumulated waters embrace the vast void,
Where can the gaze reach far and wide?
Light ripples stir the soft silk,
Wave gleams reflect brocaded patterns.

After journeying some four or five hundred miles, the group slowed. Yunqi saw an island ahead:

This island stretched nearly a hundred miles, with mountains soaring into the clouds and clear lakes dotting the terrain. Temples, palaces, and towers stood tall, and travelers moved about like ants.

Even more remarkable, the island’s perimeter was ringed with long corridors and waterside pavilions extending into the lake, dense as a spider’s web. These corridors connected to other islets and pavilions, forming a network that more than doubled the size of the place.

“May I ask, Master Xuanhui, do all these islands belong to your sect?”

Yunqi was truly amazed—how many people must there be? Surely more than Mount Sanqing.

Jiang Yanxing smiled and nodded, then explained, “But not all are cultivators; most are common folk. All the islands of Poyang Lake are like this, immortals and mortals dwelling together, the sect and clan united as one. As you said, one island is like a nation.”

Yunqi nodded; this made it less intimidating.

The group descended, not onto the island itself, but onto a waterside courtyard on its southern edge.

Jiang Yanxing and his companions seemed to be the masters here. As soon as they landed, a crowd gathered, exclaiming at the sight of the wounded young hero.

The way people addressed them was interesting: Jiang Yanxing was called the family head, his brother Jiang Yuexing—the young hero’s father—was addressed as Second Lord, the elder Daoist with the Daoist name Xianjing was called Master of the Western Hall, and the young hero, supported by Master of the Western Hall, was naturally called Young Lord.

Throughout the journey, Yunqi chatted with the three elders, but the young hero, forbidden to speak due to his lung injury, never revealed his name, leaving Yunqi still unaware of it.