After five o'clock, all the tourists at the Golden Summit had gone down the mountain, leaving the once bustling mountaintop suddenly deserted.
The empty valley echoed with faint sounds, birds flitted to and fro, in the distance clouds steamed over a sea of mist, the outlines of mountain ranges rose and fell, truly giving off a touch of that otherworldly, secluded atmosphere.
Li Yishan was already sleeping like a log, exhausted.
Zhang Fan rested for a while, then strolled alone across the mountain. He had to admit, getting to enjoy this kind of private access to a 5A-level scenic site—even during low season—was nothing short of fantasy.
"Hm!?"
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, Zhang Fan spotted, not far away, beneath a towering ancient tree, an elderly man in a Daoist Family's everyday robe, hunched and stooped, one hand pointing behind him, standing stock-still in an oddly twisted posture.
"Is he practicing cultivation!?" Zhang Fan's eyes lit up.
He'd heard that there really were some practicing Daoist priests on many famous Daoist mountains. Of course, they didn't have flying powers or the ability to subdue demons like in movies, but they could still prolong life and strengthen the body.
"Looks like I've run into a master…"
Feeling a stir, Zhang Fan hurried over, came up next to the old Daoist, and respectfully asked for guidance: "Master, are you cultivating right now?"
"Finally, someone showed up… Young man, I pulled my back—come quick, give me a hand…"
"..."
Zhang Fan curled his lips, but still stepped forward, helping the old Daoist as he rubbed his own aching lower back and settled under the big tree, slowly sitting cross-legged.
"Getting old, you know."
"Master, you rest first."
Zhang Fan felt a twinge of disappointment, perfunctorily replied, and turned to leave.
"Young man—are you here as a tourist, or to seek the Dao?"
At this, the old Daoist's words made Zhang Fan halt in place.
"Seek the Dao? Seek what Dao? Are there really people coming up the mountain to cultivate these days?" Zhang Fan looked curious.
"People have sought longevity and cultivation since ancient times—who doesn't want that?" The old Daoist laughed.
"Longevity…" Zhang Fan gave an awkward smile; having done nine years of compulsory education, he naturally didn't believe in any real longevity in this world.
As for cultivation, it was at most exercises for health and fitness.
"Daoist Family cultivation might not be what you imagine."
The old Daoist seemed to see right through Zhang Fan's thoughts, hitting the nail on the head.
"How is it different?"
"Just one word: Stillness." The old Daoist softly replied.
Upon hearing this, Zhang Fan became even less interested. He'd already heard this in all sorts of wellness platitudes: 'Live calmly and peacefully to get rid of troubles.'
"But the secret of cultivation is hidden inside this word." The old Daoist grinned.
"What secret?" Zhang Fan instinctively asked.
"Young man, how were you in school?" The old Daoist suddenly changed the topic, asking a completely unrelated question.
"Not so great."
"Did you ever study hard?"
"Well… I thought about it…" Zhang Fan curled his lips. But alas, his terminal procrastination really was incurable.
"Everybody knows working hard leads to getting better, but when the time comes, there's always some voice saying, 'Let's start tomorrow…'"
The old Daoist rambled on, as if speaking to Zhang Fan, but also to himself.
"The one working hard—is that you? Or is the one telling you to start tomorrow… you?"
"Uh…" Zhang Fan was stunned, then looked a little awkward: "So which one is me?"
"All things born have their innate and postnatal forms, same with people…"
"The Primordial Spirit is innate; Consciousness is postnatal."
"What's called Consciousness is all the knowledge, experience, and patterns you pick up after birth…" The old Daoist grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
"In life, it seems like you're in charge, but actually it's the Consciousness that runs things. The Buddhist Sect calls it the Seventh Consciousness, also known as Manas…"
"It swells up with the Seven Emotions, indulges in the Six Desires—all those bad habits of lust and anger come from the Consciousness…"
It automatically splits everything you encounter into good, bad, and indifferent.
People crave or worry about the good stuff, fear or reject the bad, thoughts and feelings tumble about, generating emotions that influence behavior.
The Consciousness spends a lifetime draining your Essence, Qi, and Spirit.
Zhang Fan thought it over. It really was like this—he understood tons of principles, but when it came to practice, he'd always cook up excuses. All these contradictions entwined inside, yet somehow it seemed perfectly normal from within.
But now…
The Consciousness is just like a tyrannical warlord carving up territory, tail too fat to wag, bullying the isolated monarch above—that's the Innate Primordial Spirit. Over time, their roles quietly switch.
"To refine longevity, the Daoist Family says: 'If you don't want a person to die, a person must die.'"
The old Daoist's voice sounded again: "The key is: Destroy Consciousness, preserve the Primordial Spirit."
Zhuangzi said, 'Birth comes with death, death comes with birth.'
As soon as someone's born and exposed to the world, Consciousness is born, Primordial Spirit heads into oblivion. Conversely, if Consciousness dies, Primordial Spirit is reborn. That's the entire principle.
"Most Daoist classics hide cultivation secrets, but ordinary folks can't see through."
The old Daoist, watching Zhang Fan's thoughtful look, kept going: "Normally, Consciousness is virtually undetectable—only when someone's deeply suffering or ill does it show up the strongest."
"Why?" Zhang Fan asked, puzzled.
"Because when people sink deep into suffering, distracting thoughts reach their peak…" The old Daoist explained.
Say someone gets dumped—they spawn countless thoughts, obsess over the past, worry about the future, suffer pain, anger, anxiety, grievance… every emotion, and emotions drive their behavior; some even end up committing suicide because of it…
Or let's say you try to quit masturbating, but there's always a voice saying 'just do it again.'
That's the Consciousness causing trouble.
The old Daoist's voice grew low: "Since ancient times, every great Alchemy Dao master was only transformed after major setbacks, thus understanding and becoming immortal."
"The Elixir Book says: 'Ordinary folks seeking immortality fall into the Red Dust, must pass two gates to hear the Dao…'"
Only the Gate of Emotion and the Gate of Death—those are when thoughts get their wildest, emotions their strongest…
That's when Consciousness is most turbulent.
One thought after another, delusions flying wild—if you want to slay demons, first you must see demons.
At that moment, if you can remain centered and enter stillness, subdue all those chaotic thoughts, that's when you're draining the power of Consciousness, rising one as the other declines, and Primordial Spirit begins to grow.
"So, that one word 'stillness' is the key to cultivating Sexual Skill." The old Daoist said quietly.
"People all say Daoist classics are just philosophical fluff—nothing but empty talk. But actually, they contain methodology…"
"Tao Te Ching's five thousand words—its method boils down to six characters…"
"'Reach Extremes of Void, Guard Steadfast Stillness'… body and mind completely tranquil, not a single thought arises, Consciousness returns to stillness… Then you'll see things your eyes normally can't see, and when that Celestial Light shines through…"
"You'll be able to see the Primordial Spirit, and that's when real longevity cultivation starts."
The old Daoist lowered his voice, sounding extremely mysterious.
"Too bad people's lives today move so fast—never mind striving for longevity, they're so stressed with messy thoughts, ending up with anxiety disorders, depression… mental illness, even…"
As he spoke, a look of pity and compassion flashed across the old Daoist's face; the Red Dust keeps getting murkier, the End of Dharma for cultivation, and that's the sorrow for people like him.
"Master, so how do you cultivate this 'stillness'?" Zhang Fan couldn't help asking.
"Young man—you're finally asking the right question."
The old Daoist grabbed Zhang Fan's wrist, his eyes narrowing, a piercing gleam flashing inside.
"Zhenwu Mountain Meditation Class, discounted price 5680 yuan, four days and three nights, comes with a Daoist Sect robe and a Tai Chi Sword…"
"..."
"Sign up now, I'll give you three hundred off."
"..."
It's not sudden concern from strangers that's scary—it's when the air suddenly turns silent.
"Uh… well… master, I've got something else to do…"
Zhang Fan pulled away and left, wishing his parents had given him two more legs. Not in his wildest dreams did he expect to run into a course-selling scammer on the mountain.
"Young man…" The old Daoist watched Zhang Fan's departing figure, and couldn't help but shake his head.
At that moment, two young Daoists walked over from the distance. As they reached him, they bowed deeply to the old Daoist.
"Sect Leader Ancestor, the two Celestial Masters have been waiting a long time."