Wu Tong said, "To be so favored by His Majesty leaves this humble subject truly ill at ease."
Eunuch Li Fuguo replied, "Lord Wu, this journey's merit is unparalleled! And yet you remain modest and self-restrained—admirable indeed. Please return to your residence and await the imperial rewards. Henceforth, we hope you will range through city and jianghu alike to rally the anti-rebel militias, so as to overawe the rebels' momentum." With that, Wu Tong took his leave of the palace and returned to his quarters.
At dawn the next day, a young eunuch arrived with a retinue of inner servants, bearing chests of rewards. Once inside, the eunuch produced the edict and read aloud:
"By the Mandate of Heaven, the Emperor decrees:The Lord of the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, having ridden west by imperial command and achieved repeated victories, has shaken the Western Regions with his valor. To honor such loyalty and courage, we bestow: one thousand taels of gold, two thousand taels of silver, five hundred shi of grain, one thousand bolts of silk, several dozen fine pearls, and five jade bangles—as a token of imperial grace. Thus is our will."
The rewards were, as expected.
That day, Wu Tong set out with Zhao Rou for several days' travel. Mounting lightly, they rode toward rebel-held regions, visiting markets and towns to gather intelligence. Dusk drew on as they reached Xianyang; passing Mawei Slope, they came to a mound a li north of the road said to be the Consort's Tomb. People thronged to pay their respects. Zhao Rou murmured, "I wonder how Lady Yang fares…?"
Wu Tong answered, "The Precious Consort's fragrance has perished; the living now pay respects at her grave."
Zhao Rou nodded, understanding. "Yes. Henceforth people will come to this place to mourn the beauty of the Precious Consort."—Truly, the root of calamity lies with the ruler; why blame Yuhuan for toppling a realm?
A traveler cried out, "I've heard that in Xianyang an old woman found one of the Precious Consort's embroidered shoes. She exhibits it for a fee—one hundred coins to gaze upon it. Shall we go see?" The tale ran thus: in the haste of Lady Yang's burial, a courier at Mawei Station found a single embroidered shoe and took it home to his mother. The old woman showed it to travelers for a fee, amassing a fortune. Other travelers chimed in, "Since we're here, why not have a look!" A group headed toward Xianyang to glimpse the legendary shoe.
Wu Tong smiled and teased, "Rou-mei, shall we go behold the Consort's embroidered slipper?"Zhao Rou pursed her lips in a smile. "Not I! Let's ride to Huangshan Palace instead."
It happened to be the third day of the third lunar month, the birthday of the Northern Pole Guardian True Lord; incense offerings were flourishing, worshipers flocking to temples. Riding east from the Consort's tomb for two or three li, they saw ahead a great statue of Laozi, seated facing south—left hand stroking his beard, right hand holding a scroll, brows serene as if pondering Heaven and Earth's first principles. The solemn scene slowed their steps to quiet appreciation.
They dismounted, tethered their horses to a great tree by the temple slope, and climbed the steps to Huangshan Palace. A famed Daoist site, its gate was stately and weighty. Within, the halls were grand yet austere; incense curled in the still air. There were shrines to Laozi, the Thunder Patriarch, the Jade Emperor, the Three Pure Ones, the Old Lord's Grotto, and the God of Wealth. Pilgrims—few but devout—came and went, bowing, chanting, and burning incense: a realm of quiet cultivation.
Huangshan Palace stood upon a terraced slope. The two strolled upward to a lookout; before them stretched the Eight Hundred Li of Qin Plain—rivers like silver ribbons, mountains shouldering the sky, the world vast and unbounded. Hearts opened wide; worldly turmoil seemed but passing clouds.
Suddenly a ringing voice from within the palace: "Daoist martial arts are profound and vast—how could a bald monk compare?"
Another voice retorted, "I know not others' skills, but with your meager attainment, dare you boast so loudly?"
The sharp exchange came out of nowhere, bristling with challenge. Wu Tong and Zhao Rou traded a glance, delight rising—they knew those voices well. They were the Two Marvels of the Rivers and Lakes: White-Brow Daoist and Master Zhenkong.
White-Brow stood with hands clasped behind him, sneering, "Buddhists steal the Daoists' treasures, rename them, and call them secret sutras. Since antiquity you've cribbed Daoist principles, spun them into scripture, and proclaimed them your own. You preach 'spreading the Dharma'; we say 'transmitting the Way.' You speak of 'emptiness'; we of 'non-being.' We cultivate breath and qi; you borrow it and dub it 'Buddhist qigong.' How do you explain that?"
Master Zhenkong chuckled coldly. "And who proves these truths were born in Daoism? You? Only you can transmit the Way? Only you can breathe and refine qi? Dao and Buddha are different paths that lead to the same—why draw such hard lines?"
Wu Tong laughed up at the sky, stepped forward, and said in a clear voice, "The Great Way has no fixed form—why should two venerable seniors contend?" His tone was calm, his words ringing.
They turned at the sound, and when they saw Wu Tong and Zhao Rou, joy lit their faces. "Wu Tong! Zhao Rou!" they cried together. The two juniors returned the salute. "Honored seniors, we hope you've been well."
White-Brow sniffed, displeased. "Hmph! So long as this old bald donkey still breathes, how could I go first?"
Master Zhenkong snorted back, "And while this ox-nosed Daoist still lingers, how could I be the first to go?" Their barbs were needle-pointed, yet the old comrades' long familiarity showed through, half quarrel and half jest.
Wu Tong could only shake his head, smiling—long accustomed to their banter. After a moment's thought he recited, "The Scripture of Clarity and Stillness says: 'Once entered the True Way, one is said to have obtained the Way; though named "obtained," in truth nothing is obtained. For the transformation of all beings it is called "obtaining the Way"; those who awaken to it may transmit the sacred Way.' Seniors, why not set aside contention? Words are snares."
White-Brow lifted a brow and shot Zhenkong a sidelong glance. "Hmph—this lad has some learning."
Master Zhenkong rubbed his smooth head and smiled. "Very well. For the boy's sake, this old monk will not wrangle with the ox-nose."
Wu Tong smiled slightly. "What brings the two seniors here today?"
White-Brow grew solemn. "We came to visit an old friend—Danyang Zhenren of Huangshan Palace. Since you two are here as well, why not come along?"
Huangshan Palace was a holy Daoist site, home to many cultivators. Wu Tong readily agreed. "In that case, we'll trouble the seniors to lead the way."
The four walked shoulder to shoulder along the winding eastern path. The road was broad and quiet; a breeze combed the pines. Before long a temple rose on the summit, halls half veiled in cloud. A sinuous path, like a thread into mystery, led toward realms of cultivation. (As the Scripture says: "Once entered the True Way, one is said to have obtained the Way; though named 'obtained,' in truth nothing is obtained. For the transformation of all beings it is called 'obtaining the Way'; those who awaken to it may transmit the sacred Way.")
Cloud-wrapped on all sides, the temple felt like an immortal's retreat. Its abbot was Danyang Zhenren. As they passed the gate, a young acolyte cried, "Master, visitors!" The four entered. Danyang Zhenren came forth, fly-whisk in hand. "Rare guests indeed—White-Brow Daoist, Master Zhenkong, and two honored friends. Please, come in. I have brewed a fine tea for four men of taste."
Wu Tong's thought turned; he stepped forward with reverent courtesy. "It grows late. We, the four from the Hall of Loyalty and Righteousness, have intruded on your quiet cultivation—pray forgive our presumption. As it happens, I can offer some incense money." He produced two hundred taels in banknotes and presented them.
Danyang Zhenren was pleased but would not accept it personally. He called, "Tianming! This gentleman donates incense money—receive these two hundred taels." The young acolyte answered, came to take the notes, and said, "Many thanks, sir."
Danyang Zhenren then said, "Tianming, Tianzhao, prepare two guest rooms for our four visitors to stay the night." The acolyte named Tianzhao answered and withdrew to make the arrangements.