Chapter Forty-Two: Planting Golden Lotus in Fire, Cultivating Gold Corpses under the Star of Taurus

September 30th, the final day of golden autumn.

Yun Qi bid farewell to everyone.

The whole village came to the gates to see him off. A small white dog wagged its tail at Yun Qi’s feet, jumping about and trying to bite his seal, completely oblivious to the sorrow of parting.

The Red-Crested General alighted on the cat’s thorn by the gate; Yun Qi felt that this one was not far from becoming a demon.

Waving to everyone in farewell, Yun Qi slipped into the mountains.

———

The deeper he went, the fewer people he encountered. Traveling another two or three hundred miles southwest, he would reach the wild forests, with no villages in sight.

Another five hundred miles ahead, there was still no sign of humans, but monsters began to appear more frequently. Serpents coiled around the mountains, exhaling poisonous gas that transformed into green clouds, enveloping the land. Black tigers with wings roared through the sky, their gales uprooting ancient trees. Strange fish leapt from marshes to hunt the great birds above.

Yun Qi concealed himself, avoiding these mighty beasts, thanks to White Dragon’s sharp senses. Whenever they traversed the mountains, the dog always managed to steer clear of powerful presences.

As Yun Qi walked, snow began to fall from the sky. He calculated the days—it was already early December.

He’d heard that the southern wastes were warm and rarely saw snow in winter, but today the snow was heavy, as large as goose feathers, and he happened upon it by chance.

“Chirp—”

Yun Qi whistled.

A white shadow darted from ahead, stopping before Yun Qi. It was a white dog, pure and unmarked, with only the fur around its nose, ears, and mouth sparse, revealing soft pink skin.

It was the White Dragon from the village, now grown tall—the dog’s back reached Yun Qi’s knee. White Dragon sat before him, tongue lolling, tail spinning.

Yun Qi patted its head, “Good dog, find us a place to stay.”

The dog understood, and shot off like a flash.

Soon, it returned, wagging its tail to signal Yun Qi to follow.

The dog had found a cave on the sheltered side of the mountain, with trees at its entrance, fairly hidden.

Yun Qi knew the cave would be empty, but out of habit formed over the past months, he flicked a spark of fire into the cave and muttered:

“Burn it clean!”

Within the cave, the fire burst into blazing flames—transparent, tinged with warm ochre—the new threefold true fire he had refined.

Once the true fire burned away the dampness and any lurking evil, it condensed into a single point of light, hovering in the air, illuminating the cave with a gentle, warm glow.

Yun Qi and the dog entered.

Yun Qi found a stone to sit on and took a piece of cloth from the cave’s rocks, handing it to the dog.

The dog caught it in its mouth, brought it near the entrance, spread it on the ground, and sprawled comfortably atop it. The cave, warmed by true fire, was cozy—the dog stretched its limbs, belly pressed against the cloth, humming contentedly.

The cloth, in size and hue, was clearly the bundle Yun Qi had brought from his sect—a perfect example of repurposing.

Outside, the snow intensified, swirling and obscuring the view, everything blanketed in white haze.

Yun Qi took a leather wine pouch from the cave’s rocks, uncorked it, and drank a mouthful.

When he left the village, the villagers had offered many gifts, which he declined, but he accepted plenty of this white liquor. The old chief had laughed, saying they’d have to brew more this year, lest they run out when Master Yun came again.

“Gulp—”

Twelve chambers trembled; a large draught chilled his throat but sent a fiery warmth surging from his belly, heating his whole body.

“Ha—”

Yun Qi burped, feeling utterly refreshed.

The wind scattered the snow, but Yun Qi’s mind was clear.

He knew exactly what he needed to do next.

Now that the god of the heart palace was formed, his visualization not only drew upon the fierce solar fire but also, through his ingenuity, absorbed the threefold true fire. Opening the heart palace had become inevitable; Yun Qi estimated it would take a year at shortest, three at longest, with little deviation.

There was no need to seek shortcuts to hasten the process.

Now, he had to consider the next palace.

The snow sealed the mountain, so Yun Qi was in no hurry to travel, giving him the perfect opportunity to think deeply.

He had first opened the heart palace, fixed its nature with solar fire, representing “fire in emptiness”—the birth from nothingness, the shift from illusion to reality.

The next step was to ponder what should arise from fire.

According to the fundamental cycles of the five elements, fire gives birth to earth, and while fire restrains metal, it also refines it.

As for water and wood—water and fire are incompatible, their contact mutually destructive. Though water and fire can harmonize, merging yin and yang, that is about coexistence, not mutual generation.

When fire meets wood, wood only fuels the fire, not conducive to nurturing the wood palace.

Thus, after much thought, opening earth and metal palaces after fire aligns with the essence of the five elements.

Fire gives birth to earth, the foundation of the elements, though somewhat ordinary; metal within fire is more radical, and there is the saying, “fire refines true gold”—metal born from fire is sharper and purer.

The secret of the golden pill states:

“The moon hides the jade rabbit, the sun holds the crow; the tortoise and serpent entwine. Entwined, life and fate are firm, and lotus blooms in fire. Gather the five elements in reversal, and when the work is done, gods and immortals arise.”

This “lotus blooming in fire” is the most resilient and steadfast of destinies, the root of seeking immortality, and aligns perfectly with Yun Qi’s pursuit of longevity!

That is, fire gives birth to metal—open the lung palace!

Further, in the cycle of yin and yang, the heart’s fire is yang, the lung’s metal is yin—among the heavenly stems, Xin belongs to yin; thus, Xin metal pairs with Bing fire.

Therefore, the lung palace should absorb the essence of Taiyin Xin metal.

Yun Qi exhaled deeply; before leaving the mountain, He Bingkun had told him that by transforming celestial phenomena into the five elements, his path was set. Now, with his seeking heart, the duality of yin and yang, and the two natures of the heavenly stems defining the five elements, his path was broader than ever!

But just as Yun Qi’s resolve solidified, a shock ran through him!

Taiyin Xin metal!

It was Taiyin Xin metal!

Yun Qi slowly stretched out his left hand; the cave stone shimmered, and something dropped into his palm.

It was a small basket woven from purple bamboo, only the size of a fist.

He picked it up and tipped out its contents.

A beetle, two inches long, its body like black jade, wings a dark gold, horn slightly raised.

The one-horned rhinoceros beetle—of the metal element, a good corpse keeper, dwelling in the yin.

It was yin metal!

Yun Qi gazed at the beetle’s corpse, recalling Master Suku’s repeated warnings before he left the sect,

“The way of corpse keeping must not be underestimated…”

“The one-horned beetle guides the dragon corpse to ascend…”

“Belongs to metal… corpse of the insect…”

Had the master, at the moment he glimpsed the Palace of Light on the mountain and in my mind, already planned for me to open the lung palace next?!

Was gifting me the yin-metal corpse at parting a deliberate reminder?!

Yun Qi could not say.

Originally, he had set this aside, as he did with the arts of alchemy and instruments, but now, it seemed he could not ignore it for long.

Metal is the essence of earth, and corpses in earth are objects of yin and loss; if he truly sought Xin metal, cultivating insects and searching for corpses might indeed be a promising path.

By then, with Altair in the heart, the lord of the lung palace being a golden corpse would not be impossible!