Chapter Two: Where Zhan Biyun Hid the Bamboo

A vast expanse stretched out, indistinguishable in every direction.

“Ahem.” The guiding Taoist coughed twice, rousing the awestruck crowd from their stupor, then chuckled softly. “Young seekers, follow me. There is no need to be afraid.”

He uncorked the gourd at his waist, from which a stream of azure cloud poured forth. Under the astonished gazes of all, he stepped forward, firmly treading atop the cloud.

Hovering on his cloud a pace beyond the cliff’s edge, the Taoist looked back and called, “Please step forward, young seekers. The clouds will appear beneath your feet.”

At his words, everyone exchanged uneasy glances. The mountain wind wailed, fine rain swept into the hall and chilled their faces and hearts alike. Not one dared move.

Yet Cheng Yunqi, still entranced by the world of white mist, was so lost in thought that the Taoist’s summons sounded like his own name. Without thinking, he instinctively took a few steps forward. Suddenly, his foot found nothing but air—a surge of falling terror jolted him awake, his heart leaping to his throat. He was about to cry out when, just in time, he felt something solid underfoot. He exhaled in relief, his panic receding.

Looking down, he saw a tuft of azure cloud beneath his feet.

Perhaps it all happened so swiftly that his face had not caught up to his racing thoughts; he still wore a dazed, dreamlike expression, as if lost in the immortal scenery. Yet to others, this look seemed calm and composed.

The Taoist stroked his beard and smiled. “Since one has already taken the lead, will the rest not come quickly?”

With that, he turned without another word to face the immortal peak, his cloud drifting away, seemingly slow yet swift. The cloud beneath Cheng Yunqi’s feet followed as if drawn along.

Now those left in the Immortal Pavilion grew restless. Many hurried forward, shutting their eyes and taking the step. Cries of alarm erupted one after another, but soon, as clouds gathered beneath each newcomer, shouts of fear turned to whoops of delight. A few of the younger ones even called out:

“I can fly!”

“Father! Mother! I’ve become immortal!”

The Taoist’s voice drifted from ahead. “You may speak, but do not shout.”

At this, everyone fell silent, not daring even to whisper.

Over a hundred clouds formed a long line, swiftly leaving the Immortal Pavilion and those too timid to step forward far behind, plunging into the endless sea of mist.

Only later did Yunqi learn that this guiding Taoist, in this realm, could conjure so many clouds and carry so many mortals safely through the sea of clouds—a truly remarkable feat.

Cheng Yunqi, being closest to the Taoist, heard him ask, “Young seeker, how old are you? When did you first taste the Clear Spirit Qi?”

Yunqi bowed respectfully. “Immortal Master, I will be fifteen in September. If I recall correctly, when I was five, I suddenly felt as light as a swallow, and ever since, I’ve worn single robes all year, fearing neither heat nor cold.”

A flash of surprise crossed the Taoist’s eyes. He asked, “What is your name? Where are you from? Are your parents well?”

“My surname is Cheng, as in the noble Cheng, my given name Yunqi—‘cloud energy’ like that beneath my feet. My home is south of the Jinsha Stream, in a place called Camphor Fragrance Town. My parents lived to old age and passed peacefully.”

“Young seeker, you have an extraordinary bearing—calm in adversity, humble and courteous. To my eyes, you are not merely treading the cloud beneath you, but are yourself as serene and lofty as the drifting clouds.”

The youth replied, “Immortal Master flatters me. My name was a gift from my parents; all I hope is to live up to their hopes for me.”

The Taoist nodded and said no more.

Cheng Yunqi gazed in every direction, but as far as his eyes could reach, there was only white cloud—no sky, no earth, no sense of direction or boundary.

They journeyed in the clouds for half an hour before the view suddenly opened up.

Everywhere was lush and green.

It was as if, with a single step, they had crossed from the boundless snowscapes of winter into the vibrant world of summer.

Layer upon layer of mountain peaks soared upward, endless ridges and valleys stretching on, green pines clothing the slopes, thin mists drifting like veils. Among the pines, colorful deer wandered, white foxes leapt, yellow cranes danced in the mist, and golden butterflies flitted their wings.

The majestic rock formations, shrouded in rain and mist, resembled a vast ink painting.

Palaces and temples adorned the highest peaks, and high-level Taoists rode clouds and cranes, calling to one another atop the mountains.

It was a scene of purest immortality—a celestial dwelling in all its glory.

So, beyond the boundless sea of clouds, the Three Pure Ones’ Immortal Mountain lay right behind the Rain-Laden Temple’s wall. Yet throughout history, countless seekers had scoured Sacred Mountain without ever finding a trace of the Immortal Mountain.

Every boy and girl was utterly captivated by this immortal realm.

Because he had nearly embarrassed himself earlier, Yunqi was especially alert now. Glancing around, he quickly noticed something odd. During their passage through the clouds, the cloud layer had seemed inconceivably thick, blocking out sky and earth. But looking back now, it appeared little more than ordinary clouds.

Ahead, on the immortal mountains, another layer of cloud formed a clear boundary with those behind—a strange sight.

The Taoist, kind-hearted, soared through this living painting and, gazing fondly at the scenery he never tired of, began to explain to the young ones:

“Young seekers, our Three Pure Ones’ Mountain combines the grandeur of Mount Tai, the wondrous beauty of Mount Huang, the peril of Mount Hua, the mists of Mount Heng, and the serenity of Qingcheng. It stands as the highest of all immortal peaks.

“Behold the mountain ahead, named Zhongling—it shares a root with Sacred Mountain and marks the entrance to our sect. The range to the left is called the Peaks of Ten Thousand Tablets, or Little Myriad Mountains. There live the registered disciples of our sect. If you pass the coming test by Master Sukun, you will find a cave abode here to begin your cultivation.”

As he spoke, they passed through another swirl of cloud. Emerging, Yunqi was startled to see a giant serpent standing tall before them, as massive as a mountain. Compared to it, their group was as insignificant as ants. What manner of fearsome beast was this?

Those behind gasped in fright, some nearly tumbling from their clouds.

The Taoist quickly reassured them, “No need for alarm. Lord Kui of the Mountain has been meditating for thirty years without stirring. We’ll simply go around.”

So they skirted east of the giant serpent. Yunqi could not help but glance twice. The so-called Lord Kui had not moved an inch; dust and even plants had taken root on its body, vines dangling, birds perching. In some places, the dark-purple scales, each larger than a grown man, were still visible.

“Up ahead lies a wonder known as the Three Dragons Rising from the Sea. At sunrise, when the clouds churn, the mountains resemble dragons vying for the divine pearl.”

“Brother Ji Hu, are these new disciples for the mountain?”

Immersed in the beauty, the group occasionally saw Taoists riding clouds or swords, greeting their guide.

The Taoist, addressed as Ji Hu, replied to each, “These are the young seekers I’ve just brought from outside. I’m taking them to Mingzhi Mountain.”

“To Mingzhi Mountain!” some exclaimed in surprise.

After another quarter hour of flight, the peaks thickened ahead and a peculiar long ridge appeared. The ridge stretched from southeast to northwest, rising with little variation, like an endless stone screen. On either side, green pines and red cedars stood, as if sculpted from jade and coral.

But the ridge was so high it pierced the clouds, forcing Ji Hu to drive his cloud ever higher.

Bursting through the clouds, they saw countless rainbow bridges and shimmering lights.

But as Yunqi looked closer, he realized these were no bridges, but uncountable sword immortals racing through the sky, trailing brilliant streams of light!

Ji Hu explained, “There is a ban at the mountain gate—below the clouds, speed is limited. Only above the clouds may one practice sword-riding, escape arts, or spellcraft. Stay still on your clouds, and you’ll be safe.”

Everyone nodded fervently, wishing to shrink themselves for fear of brushing against a sword’s light.

Atop the ridge lay exposed yellow stone, with a broad avenue running above the sea of clouds, its end out of sight.

Now they flew along the Yellow Stone Avenue, much faster than before. Looking down, they saw Taoists in colorful robes walking the road, palaces and temples rising on either side like a heavenly marketplace.

“This is East Screen Mountain, and this road is the Eastern Heavenly Way. Our sect also has a Western Screen Mountain and Western Heavenly Way. The Eastern Way is famed for sunrises above the sea of clouds; the Western for sunsets and evening glow. Both are excellent for disciples to breathe in spiritual energy and practice their arts.”

They followed the Eastern Heavenly Way for another quarter hour before their clouds slowed and descended, passing again through the clouds—this time, sinking down for much longer than before.

“Hm?” Yunqi felt a force at his feet. Looking down, he found himself standing on solid ground—yet still within the clouds.

“Follow me closely, young seekers. Do not stray.”

So they walked through the clouds. After a hundred paces or so, the mist dispersed.

Cheng Yunqi looked around and found himself on a narrow mountain path, bamboo rising on both sides. The wind rustled through the sea of bamboo, creating a soft murmur.

“Come this way.”

Led by Ji Hu, they walked through the bamboo forest. Spring shoots peeked everywhere, and the bamboo, bathed in the valley rain, gleamed ever greener, painting the world in shades of jade. The mountain breeze was so refreshing it seemed to clear the mind.

After another quarter hour, the path opened up. The first thing they saw was a tall standing stone, inscribed with seven bold characters: “The Bamboo Repository of Zhan Biyun.”

The group halted before the stone. Behind it stood a bamboo pavilion, with rolled bamboo screens hanging on all sides. Within sat a priestess in purple robes embroidered with bat patterns. Her features were delicate yet stern, her age indeterminate—perhaps in her twenties, perhaps older.

Cradled in her arm was a ruyi scepter of red and yellow glass, its surface shimmering like flowing water, almost alive.

Ji Hu stepped forward. “Master Yu, I have brought those from outside the mountain.”

The priestess opened her eyes, glanced at Ji Hu, and nodded. “Thank you. Wait outside for an hour, then return.”

Ji Hu bowed and withdrew.

As the priestess’s gaze swept over them, the group grew nervous yet tried to stand firm.

“Seekers, I must conduct a test of the spirit. Those who pass may be registered as my disciples, as you all know.”

Everyone nodded, none daring to speak.

“I will extract your Clear Spirits—that is, the earth souls among the three souls and seven spirits spoken of in the mortal world. It will not harm your bodies.”

Her serene countenance belied her startling words.

“I will send your earth souls out into the surroundings. Guided by your connection to your human souls, you will naturally find your way back. I will select my disciples from among those who return. Remember, as mortals, your souls must not be separated for more than an hour, or they will be lost forever. While your souls are out, your senses will be keen; you may soar above or delve below, see myriad wonders, but must not linger.”

At this, the young faces turned a shade paler.

“If any do not wish to be tested, say so and I will give you a ginseng pill to send you home.”

Clearly, this was also a test. Cheng Yunqi remained unmoved, as did most of the older children, though a few of the youngest hesitated.

So even the entrance exam to the path of cultivation was so daunting.

Still, though the littlest ones wavered, seeing no one step forward, they dared not move either, shuffling their feet with troubled thoughts.

Seeing this, the priestess changed her approach. She pointed, and incense smoke rose from a burner at her side.

“The timing begins now. When the incense burns out, an hour will have passed. If your souls do not return by then, none can save you. Those willing to try, come forward and sit cross-legged on the mat.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Cheng Yunqi stepped forward and sat on the green-and-white bamboo mat before the pavilion.

A fleeting smile crossed Master Sukun’s eyes, but she acted without hesitation, tapping Yunqi with her ruyi. Instantly, Yunqi’s head drooped alarmingly, as if he’d died.

The others, startled, froze in fear, even those who had been ready to step forward.