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Human Sacrifice
Mr. Chang returned in the afternoon, his Medicine Basket filled to the brim with herbs.
Mr. Chang said, "These herbs may not be particularly precious, but they are on a different level compared to the dried herbs sold in pharmacies. They are perfect for soaking in a bath to invigorate the Meridians."
Five drove Douding to the market outside the mountain to buy supplies, while Mr. Chang sorted the herbs. He took out a few types and placed them in a large pot to soak, setting it over a gentle fire made from dry pine wood.
Then he brought me down the mountain and instructed me to run two laps around Qingliang Temple first.
Running around Qingliang Temple in the middle of the day was exhausting; given my current physical condition, I would be worn out after just three or five miles. However, I understood that Mr. Chang meant well, and it was important to exercise before soaking in the herbal bath to open up my pores and promote circulation.
The distance around Qingliang Temple was at least seven or eight miles. After one lap, I was already struggling and had no strength left for a second lap. Although I lived in the mountains, I had spent most of these years studying and hardly exercised, leaving my physical fitness quite poor.
Mr. Chang shook his head as he watched from the mountain. Just then, Wuhe and Douding returned from the market loaded with goods, and Mr. Chang signaled for me to come up.
I was so exhausted that I could barely move on the stone steps. Douding turned to Mr. Chang and said, "Master, you're being biased! You haven't even accepted Brother Yang Hao as your disciple, yet you're already teaching him skills."
Mr. Chang replied, "If you want to learn, you can start soaking in herbal baths with Yang Hao from now on."
"I don't want to! I saw how close Master Brother came to being tortured by you," Douding retorted.
Mr. Chang replied irritably, "Stop talking nonsense. Go add some firewood in the back yard to brew the herbal soup; we’ll need it soon."
"Okay!" Douding placed what he was carrying behind the door of the temple and dashed excitedly toward the back yard.
Mr. Chang turned to Five and asked, "Did you buy the ginseng?"
Five handed Mr. Chang a beautifully packaged box. Mr. Chang frowned as he looked at the price tag on the box and said, "So expensive?"
"Wudao said, 'I've looked at the ginseng in the herbal shop. Either the age isn't sufficient, or it's artificially cultivated. This root is wild ginseng, and it's quite aged. It's a bit expensive, but it's worth it for Haozi.'"
Mr. Chang replied, "It's not about whether it's worth it or not; it's that his physical condition is too poor. After all, he's already past the age of Entrance to the Dao. Even the worst sect wouldn't take him in. Giving him such good medicine, his body won't be able to handle it."
"Just use a little," Wudao suggested.
Mr. Chang glanced at me and said, "The amount of exercise is still insufficient. Jump up and down the stone steps ten times using Frog Jump. You count; not one less."
"What?" I was startled by Mr. Chang's words.
I understood the principle that a strict teacher produces excellent students, but I had just run around Qingliang Temple and hadn't even caught my breath yet. I couldn't manage one round of Frog Jump, let alone ten.
"Let's get started," Mr. Chang said coldly before returning to the temple.
Wu smiled and said, "Jump."
I pointed at the stone steps and asked, "Can you jump back and forth ten times?"
Wu countered, "Do you want to hear the truth or a lie?"
I replied, "No nonsense."
Wudao explained, "When my master first made me jump, I couldn't do it. Later on, I could. Now it's uncertain because I don't need to jump anymore. Once you cultivate your own energy, you'll realize how easy it is to jump these steps. But before you cultivate your own energy, refining your body is a necessary stage; otherwise, your physical form won't be able to withstand the flow of Dao Qi. Energy is fundamental for those in the Daoist Sect to perform Daoist Arts."
"How long do you think it will take for me to cultivate my first strand of energy?" I asked.
Wudao replied, "If someone from another sect were asked this question by a New Disciple, they would likely receive a cold response or not hear the truth at all. Some people take three to five years; others take over ten years. It can be quite discouraging because many start training their bodies and cultivating energy from as young as three or five years old. The oldest among them must be under twenty; their bodies still have plasticity."
Hearing Wu's words was indeed disheartening. Cultivating in Daoism isn't something that can be achieved overnight; those immortal-like figures have spent years diligently honing their skills to achieve some success. For an ordinary person like me at the initial Entrance to the Dao stage, even with a famous teacher guiding me, it would surely take time to make significant progress.
"However, you are the son of Yang Sanqian and the Yaochi Saintess. Logically, your physique shouldn't be too bad. With something so terrifying sealed inside you, you might just become a prodigy like those legendary figures. If that's the case, I might as well call you 'father.' I really did train for three years back then. Alright, hurry up and jump. If Mr. Chang gets angry, you'll be jumping as many circles as he says."
I could only take a deep breath, clasp my hands behind my back, and jump down the stone steps from the mountain. After resting for a moment, I jumped back up, repeating this process until I was exhausted and parched after three rounds.
Wu sat in front of the Taoist temple, watching with glee. He handed me a bottle of water, and just as I reached out to take it, the water suddenly slipped from his hand and flew into Mr. Chang's grasp.
Mr. Chang wore a stern expression and asked, "Have you finished jumping?"
"Wudao replied, "Three rounds."
Mr. Chang said, "Continue jumping. I thought it would be difficult to teach, but I didn't expect you to be this incompetent. Jumping three rounds in an hour—sigh."
My face fell; I couldn't understand why Mr. Chang had suddenly become so harsh. Seeing my displeasure, Wu said, "Just jump; don't talk for now."
I had no choice but to suppress my anger and continue jumping. With each leap, I felt like I was about to collapse. But Mr. Chang and Wu stood at the door watching me. Gritting my teeth, I persevered until I was so numb that I could no longer feel anything and collapsed on the ground, unable to move.
"Mr. Chang, I think we should call it a day; managing to last this long is already impressive," Wudao suggested.
Mr. Chang shook his head and looked at me. "You still have one more round left to jump; remember to find time to make it up."
With that, Mr. Chang returned to his room.
By this time, the moon had risen, and I sat on the stone steps with my stomach churning.
Wudao said, "I know you suddenly feel like Mr. Chang has changed into a different person, but a master is a master; they are not like parents or teachers in general. He holds the identity of a transmitter of knowledge. No master has ever transmitted knowledge without having a personal connection or taking on disciples; Mr. Chang has never done that, nor have I heard of anyone who has."
"Is there really any difference?" I asked.
Wudao replied, "In the Daoist World, strength is paramount. To establish yourself in the Daoist Sect relies solely on your own abilities. These abilities must be passed down from your master—especially from someone who guides you in opening your acupoints; that is particularly important. Mr. Chang will expend his Daoist energy to help you channel your qi and teach you how to cultivate your own."
"Can't you teach me?" I asked.
Wudao replied, "Taking on a disciple is quite troublesome. I don't have the time to teach you. Besides, my master only has me as a disciple, and I had to serve him tea, wash his feet, and warm his bed just to get him to teach me. Learning skills is hard work, but once you become a member of the Daoist Sect and acquire true abilities, it's like being a celestial being in the mundane world. You would have the power over life and death, just like when you killed that young master in Ancheng; Chang Lao and I could still ensure your safe escape. Before allowing a disciple to truly enter the fold, my master places great importance on assessing their character. Chang Lao is testing you because your disposition leans towards darkness. If it weren't for Brother Yang's influence and my intercession, when Chang Lao first encountered you at Futu Ridge and learned about your character, he wouldn't have considered accepting you into the Entrance to the Dao."
"Am I really that bad?" I asked.
Wudao said, "It's not about being good or bad; it's simply the rules. No one dares to impart their skills to a stranger without three to five years of assessment. Moreover, children are easy to teach, but adults have already matured in their dispositions. Even if accepted into the Daoist Sect, they would never gain access to its core teachings. Chang Lao has had many disciples over the years, but it seems he has only successfully taught one or two."
Wudao's words suddenly reminded me of something.
In the past, I had eaten at a restaurant known for its delicious fish dish. Customers flocked there just for that meal, while other restaurants tried to replicate it but failed miserably. The owner spent five years learning that recipe, sending holiday greetings and gifts to his master every year during that time. His master had many disciples, yet only a handful managed to learn the dish. Those who mastered it could earn over ten thousand a month as chefs in restaurants—a vital skill for survival in society. When passing down this skill, the master had to be straightforward and weigh things carefully; after all, calling someone 'master' wouldn't earn you an extra piece of meat.
For instance, auto repair shops are everywhere now, constantly recruiting apprentices who earn around a thousand yuan a month. Some think they're clever enough to learn car repairs in just a few days or weeks, but often they find themselves confused even after two or three years of training. This is partly because they feel their masters haven't taught them anything useful—spending half a year just crawling under cars handing wrenches—and partly because the work is dirty and exhausting with little pay, leading them to lose patience and quit. Yet some manage to learn genuine skills during those two or three years of training and can stand on their own after leaving their masters, earning hundreds of thousands annually.
In life’s foundation, unless it's your own father, no one should teach others without reason.
The Daoist World is even more so; some individuals may possess exceptional talent but have poor character. They might dare to lose their temper with their masters due to their innate gifts. Even if they learn all the skills, masters have the right to render those skills useless.
In the Daoist Sect, most are solitary figures; some possess extraordinary skills but refuse to pass them on if they haven't found suitable disciples. The greatest fear for a master when taking on disciples is betrayal—pouring their heart and soul into teaching only to end up in despair in their later years.
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