Chapter Seventy-Seven: Change

“Now!”

About half an hour after the heavy rain began, Master Jianxian suddenly spoke up.

Cheng Xinzhan did not hesitate in the slightest. Fixing his gaze on a bolt of lightning that had just emerged from the thunderclouds, he directed the silver-violet “Gaozhen” upwards; at this moment, it seemed to become lightning itself, shooting from the mountaintop toward the sky.

Yet before “Gaozhen” had left the summit, a beam of golden light from another peak moved even faster, also shooting skyward, its speed in no way inferior to the magic sword.

Almost simultaneously, from the third mountain, two crimson banners rose into the sky, though they were noticeably slower than “Gaozhen” and the golden light.

Cheng Xinzhan spared no thought for the golden light or the crimson banners, his entire focus on the magic sword. His power remotely guided “Gaozhen,” sending it directly toward the height of the clouds, aiming to intercept the lightning as it emerged.

At this moment, “Gaozhen” had transformed into silver-violet rays chasing one another, as if merging with the lightning between heaven and earth, yet ascending against the current. He paid no attention to the other two peaks, but the brilliance of “Gaozhen” inevitably drew others’ eyes, causing both the golden and red lights to falter by a hair’s breadth.

A sharp crack sounded.

With perfect precision, the sword struck the tip of the lightning bolt—blade to electric arc—like two streams of lightning from earth and sky converging.

Master Jianxian watched with admiration. If nothing else, the appearance of this magic sword was simply flawless, as if born to draw lightning.

When “Gaozhen” touched the lightning, Cheng Xinzhan saw clearly that the treasured blade suffered no harm; on the contrary, it rang out in a high, clear note.

In that instant, disturbed by the sword, the lightning abruptly changed its course, following the bridge of power between Cheng Xinzhan and “Gaozhen” to strike directly at him.

The bolt, thick as a serpent, grew thin as it traveled along the bridge of power, as if the slender channel could not contain all of the original’s might. But just as a surging river is forced into a narrow stream, though not all the water can pass at once, what does flows even faster.

Now, Cheng Xinzhan finally understood the phrase “as quick as lightning.” The silver arc closed the distance in the blink of an eye, as if it would strike his very eyes.

Master Jianxian’s lips moved, perhaps to warn him, but before any words could be uttered, the lightning was upon him—yet Cheng Xinzhan had already adjusted the position of his gourd.

Like a marksman splitting the halberd at the gate, even better than hitting the target a hundred paces away, the bolt of lightning struck directly into the gourd’s mouth, true as pouring oil from an old man’s ladle.

“A perfect catch!”

Only now did Master Jianxian’s intended warning escape his lips, just as the sword struck the lightning.

He immediately saw the first stream of liquid lightning pour into the gourd.

“Well done!” he praised sincerely.

The influx of lightning lasted but a moment. The flash vanished, and Cheng Xinzhan was already maneuvering the sword to attract another bolt.

At this point, the golden light transformed into a talisman, latching onto another bolt of lightning, albeit at a slightly lower altitude than “Gaozhen.” The two red banners, meanwhile, missed entirely—their first attempt failing to even brush the bolt’s edge.

The golden talisman drew the lightning down toward the peak where Mount Longhu stood, while “Gaozhen,” seizing the moment, intercepted a second bolt as it emerged from the clouds.

Cheng Xinzhan had observed that after a bolt emerges from the clouds, for the first few miles it proceeds straight, without sudden turns or branching. Only after extending three to five miles below the clouds does it change. Thus, he merely needed to wait within that range and strike swiftly, ensuring he never missed.

After catching the first bolt, the golden talisman quickly ascended to match the height of “Gaozhen,” ready for the next strike.

Yet the thunderclouds were vast, and lightning fell everywhere. Still, the golden talisman, instead of seeking its fortune elsewhere, hovered beside “Gaozhen.”

Just as Cheng Xinzhan finished collecting the second bolt, a third appeared in quick succession. Without hesitation, he directed the sword forward.

The golden talisman made its move as well, both sword and charm aiming for the path of the next falling lightning. In the fleeting moment just before the bolt was fully formed, sword and charm clashed.

A thunderous explosion masked all other sounds, and at the point where sword and charm met, a dazzling flash erupted.

As the brilliance burst forth, the abbot of Mount Longhu frowned, and Liang Zhenjing beside him, his face pale, showed a trace of shock and anger.

“Gaozhen” was a treasured sword, but the golden talisman from Mount Longhu was no ordinary artifact either. The two collided midair, their powers flaring—only to recoil, both missing the descending lightning by a hair. As fate would have it, the lightning fell into the hands of the red banner below—a classic case of “while the snipe and clam fight, the fisherman profits.”

This drew a sharp glare from Liang Zhenjing toward the trio atop Binfeng Mountain.

Cheng Xinzhan, meanwhile, scarcely thought before turning his gourd. A streak of fire shot out, like an arrow, straight into the clouds, trailing a spreading radiance that formed a curtain of red light.

The firelight, accompanied by the sword’s song, soared skyward—not toward the lightning, but directly at the golden talisman.

Liang Zhenjing’s face changed dramatically; he hurriedly maneuvered the talisman away. Though confident in its power, he dared not risk it against the oncoming blaze.

At that moment, another lightning bolt fell. “Gaozhen” immediately moved to intercept, while the golden talisman, frightened off by the fire, missed its chance.

“Gaozhen” guided the lightning, and the firelight paused at its side. Only then did Liang Zhenjing see it clearly—the fire was yet another sword!

The “Taodu” pointed straight at the golden talisman, sheltering “Gaozhen” behind it.

Liang Zhenjing’s pallor flushed red. He pinched out another talisman, as if to send it skyward.

But just then, the abbot of Mount Longhu caught his hand.

“Let it go for today. The Longhu Dharma Assembly is soon upon us, and Sanqing Mountain will be a guest of honor. It is not the time to provoke conflict.”

The abbot spoke calmly.

Liang Zhenjing bit his lip, his hand trembling slightly, and slowly put away the talisman, steering the golden charm elsewhere.

By Cheng Xinzhan’s side, Master Jianxian watched the young man’s decisive and focused actions with deep satisfaction, a thought even rising in his mind:

“Perhaps taking a disciple wouldn’t be so bad?”

But soon he dismissed the idea. Not only was it difficult to find another disciple like Xinzhan, but the thought of spending years constantly conversing, guiding, and worrying about someone was enough to put him off.

“Gaozhen,” as a streak of silver-violet, blended with the lightning, catching one bolt after another. But as the storm waned, its speed also slowed, until no more lightning fell.

Within the clouds, lightning still flickered, but the clouds themselves were shrinking rapidly, soon to vanish.

At that moment, beams of light shot from all three peaks, piercing the clouds and stirring them up. Within moments, the remaining lightning was divided and claimed.

The storm passed, and the sky cleared.

The two from Mount Longhu rode off on the clouds.

Master Jianxian then led Cheng Xinzhan to the peak where the trio from Binfeng Mountain stood. Before either could speak, Master Yibi spoke first.

“We ought to thank you, young friend Xinzhan.”

Cheng Xinzhan was puzzled. “Why do you say so, Master?”

Master Yibi smiled.

“That Liang Zhenjing from Mount Longhu—anyone can see he’s proud and ambitious. If it were just the two of our sects today, he’d certainly have tried to draw lightning right atop my two disciples’ talismans. My students are still young, and I, as their teacher, have little ability and found them no fine magical artifacts. If it came to a contest, there would be nothing I could do.

“We’ve seen this before; Master Jianxian knows it as well. If only two sects are present, we have no ground to protest. If more are here and he bests us all, we can’t complain.

“But today, you from Sanqing Mountain put him in his place. With three sects present, he can’t bully us of the Shenxiao Sect, even with his status as a transmitter of the Dharma. Otherwise, our elders wouldn’t let it pass.”

Cheng Xinzhan hadn’t considered this, but thought little of it.

Master Jianxian smiled, “Xuqi and Xuyi did well too. It’s rare for young ones to coordinate so well collecting lightning—what one misses, the other catches. If they can approach all things in life with such harmony, they’ll go far on the path of thunder.”

Master Yibi was clearly pleased. “They’re good children, only unlucky to have a master with little time left and little skill. They deserve better.”

At this, the two children protested,

“Master is the best in the world!”

“Master is very skilled!”

They chimed together.

Master Yibi patted their heads, then asked Cheng Xinzhan,

“Was this truly your first time guiding lightning?”

Cheng Xinzhan nodded.

“There are always greater talents. Do visit Binfeng Mountain often in the future—just ask for Yibi of Huozha Mountain. Teach my disciples a thing or two.”

Cheng Xinzhan agreed. “It would only be mutual learning, not teaching.”

After a few words of casual conversation, the two sects took their leave, and Cheng Xinzhan returned to Sanqing Mountain with Master Jianxian.

On the way back, Master Jianxian laughed and said,

“I saw it just now. Of all the lightning drawn, you alone took half—far more than I expected. Your sword didn’t miss a single strike, even as you divided your attention between two blades. Were it not for having taught you thunder magic myself, I’d never believe this was your first time collecting lightning.”

Cheng Xinzhan returned his smile, “The credit goes to the sharp sword and an excellent teacher.”

Master Jianxian waved him off. “Don’t be so modest. Back to business—this time you’ve collected quite a lot of lightning. You’ve absorbed the mysteries of thunder and lightning; you won’t be able to collect again until summer. For now, focus on refining the lightning essence in your own cave. When you can circulate the thunder energy through your entire system without pause, come find me—I’ll teach you thunder magic.

“Of course, remember to attend court in my residence during the first week of every month; don’t forget.”

Cheng Xinzhan promised he would.

Soon they arrived at Sanqing Mountain. The two parted at the Lotus Paradise, each returning to his own abode.

Back at Wuyou Cave, Cheng Xinzhan first examined “Gaozhen.” The sword embryo, having endured the tempering of heavenly lightning, appeared unchanged at first glance. But on closer inspection, its brilliance seemed enhanced, and after staring at it a while, the sword’s shape would remain imprinted behind his eyelids even when he closed them.

He smiled in satisfaction, but then remembered something—the dazzling sword, covered in runes, was too conspicuous. He would have to look for good materials to craft a scabbard.

Next, he opened the gourd, peered inside, and saw a dazzling silver-violet glow in the realm where the lightning essence was stored. When he shook it slightly, the essence surged, crackling with electric arcs and accompanied by the constant sound of thunderous snaps—there was indeed a hefty harvest.

“With this gourd of thunder, may I carve out a Thunder Abode!” he thought.

His bamboo abode was complete, his channels were clear; attaining the perpetual circulation of thunder energy, as Master Jianxian described, wouldn’t be difficult. Thus, this gourdful of thunder would mainly be used to refine away the residual evil within the nasal orifices.

In the days that followed, he devoted himself to refining the lightning essence, all the while pondering what kind of divine spirit should inhabit his Thunder Abode.

———

On the first day of the third month, Cheng Xinzhan reported for duty at the Northern Office of the Department for Exorcising Evil in the Palace of the Nine Heavens.

On his first day, with the second lunar month just ended, his initial task was to review the frequency of thunder in Jingchu and Qingzhou over the past ten years in the second month. These regions fell under the jurisdiction of the Northern Office.

As the proverb goes, “If thunder does not sound in the second month, there will be no fruit, and many children will die.”

Thunder in the second month presides over life; if it is lacking, evil energies are not cleansed, and the year’s crops and children will suffer.

At such times, the Department for Exorcising Evil must act: wherever evil gathers, the practitioners must use their thunder magic to cleanse it, supplementing the thunder as both a spiritual practice and repayment of karmic debt to the world.

Like Yuzhang, Jingchu and Qingzhou were great provinces, with plains and hills and many subordinate counties—researching them was no easy feat. The Department maintained five-year and ten-year records of thunder; Cheng Xinzhan’s task was to compile the scattered records of the last five years for each locality and compare them to those of five years prior.

After three or four days’ work, Cheng Xinzhan finished and submitted a report to Master Jianxian.

“Master, the records for thunder in the second month over the past ten years for both regions are complete. Jingchu shows no problem; thunder is abundant. But in Qingzhou, there has been a steady decline—last month’s thunder was nearly thirty percent less than ten years ago.”

Master Jianxian frowned. “Have you checked this?”

“Twice. The figures are correct.”

His frown deepened. He picked a random county in Qingzhou and checked the earlier records himself.

“Indeed, it’s correct!”

Master Jianxian immediately took Cheng Xinzhan to see Director Miaojian.

“Director, I recall that ten years ago, Qingzhou’s thunder was already declining year by year. I thought it was chance, but now, after ten years, it’s down a full thirty percent!”

Director Miaojian frowned as well. “Since the fall of the Zhu Ming and the restoration of order, Jingchu and Qingzhou have flourished. The sage Zhang Sanfeng established Wudang in Jingchu, venerating the True Martial Emperor; upright energy is strong and thunder abundant, as expected. Qingzhou, the homeland of the Zhu Ming emperor, once flourished as well, with ample thunder and rain—there was little evil. But in recent decades, spring thunder in Qingzhou has grown scarce. Could it be some new evil has arisen?”

Master Jianxian and Cheng Xinzhan exchanged glances.

“Jingchu has Wudang Mountain, but Qingzhou has no great sects—only recluses, itinerants, and some unorthodox practitioners. If evil has taken root unnoticed, it would make sense. Since Xinzhan discovered this, Jianxian, you should take him to investigate. Your main task is reconnaissance; if you find anything, don’t disturb it—report back to the sect.”

Though Master Jianxian disliked fieldwork, he realized the matter might be serious and needed early investigation—especially since his own disciple had found it. He accepted without protest.

Cheng Xinzhan agreed as well.

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(End of chapter)