The victory over his inner demon left Li Wei invigorated, but the physical toll of his mountain life was undeniable. His body ached from days of sparse meals and relentless practice, and his clearing on Mount Tai, though now a sacred space with its rebuilt altar, felt increasingly like a solitary prison. The scroll, his constant companion, had guided him through meditations and tribulations, but its cryptic instructions were growing harder to decipher. Words like "harmonize with the Dao" and "seek the guidance of the enlightened" tantalized him with promises of deeper wisdom, yet left him floundering. Li Wei knew he needed more than a bamboo scroll—he needed a master, someone who had walked the path to immortality and could illuminate his way.
The idea of a master had always loomed large in the cultivation novels he'd devoured in his old life. Wise old sages, hidden in remote villages or atop misty peaks, who could impart secret techniques and unlock a disciple's potential. Surely, in the shadow of Mount Tai, such a figure existed. The scroll hinted at it, mentioning "elders who guard the ancient ways," though it offered no directions on where to find them. Li Wei decided to descend the mountain and seek out a nearby village, hoping to uncover a hidden cultivator or at least someone who could interpret the scroll's mysteries.
He packed his meager belongings—scroll, notebook, the remaining "Spirit Root Herbs," and a few soggy berries—into his tattered backpack and set off down a winding trail. The descent was treacherous, with loose rocks and slick mud from the recent storm threatening to send him tumbling. His legs, weakened from hunger, trembled under the strain, but the thought of finding a master kept him moving. By midday, he reached the base of the mountain and found a dirt path leading to a small village nestled in a valley, its tiled roofs peeking through a grove of bamboo.
The village was quiet, a cluster of stone houses surrounded by rice paddies and vegetable plots. Chickens clucked lazily, and an elderly woman swept her porch, eyeing Li Wei with mild curiosity as he trudged into the village square. His disheveled appearance—wild hair, dirt-streaked clothes, and a manic gleam in his eyes—drew stares from the few villagers he passed. He ignored them, scanning for any sign of the mystical: a robed figure meditating under a tree, perhaps, or an aura of otherworldly power. Instead, he found a small teahouse, its wooden sign faded but welcoming.
Inside, the air smelled of jasmine and steamed buns. A handful of locals sat at low tables, sipping tea and playing cards. Li Wei's stomach growled, but his pockets held only a few crumpled yuan. He approached the counter, where an old man with a wispy beard and weathered hands poured tea with practiced ease. The man's eyes, sharp despite his age, sized Li Wei up immediately. "You look like you've been wrestling ghosts," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "What brings a city boy to our village?"
Li Wei hesitated, then decided honesty was his best approach. He pulled the scroll from his backpack and unrolled it carefully, its bamboo slats clinking softly. "I'm a cultivator," he said, his voice low but fervent. "I'm seeking a master to guide me on the path to immortality. This scroll—it's ancient, a manual for ascension. Do you know anyone who understands such things?"
The old man raised an eyebrow, glancing at the scroll without touching it. A few nearby patrons chuckled, their conversation pausing to eavesdrop. "Immortality, eh?" the man said, setting down his teapot. "You've been reading too many stories, lad. That's just an old trinket, probably sold to you by some clever peddler in Beijing."
Li Wei's face flushed, but he pressed on. "It's real. I've felt qi, faced tribulations. I just need someone to teach me, to show me the next steps." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There must be someone here, an elder, a hidden master who knows the Dao."
The old man studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm no master, but I've lived long enough to know a fool's errand when I see one. Still, you've got spirit. Tell you what—help me with my fields, and I'll teach you something useful. Not immortality, mind you, but how to work the earth. That's the only 'Dao' I know."
Disappointed but desperate, Li Wei agreed. The old man, who introduced himself as Old Chen, led him to a small plot behind the teahouse, where rows of cabbages and turnips grew in neat lines. For the rest of the day, Li Wei pulled weeds, hauled water, and turned soil under Chen's watchful eye. The work was grueling, his blistered hands stinging with every shovel thrust, but Chen's instructions were precise: "Feel the rhythm of the earth. Move with it, not against it." Li Wei, ever the optimist, began to see the task as more than manual labor. Wasn't this "earth qi manipulation," a way to connect with the natural forces the scroll described?
As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the fields, Chen handed Li Wei a bowl of rice and pickled vegetables—a feast compared to his recent diet. They sat on the teahouse porch, and Li Wei, emboldened by the meal, pressed Chen again about cultivation. "The scroll says to seek an elder," he said, gesturing to the text. "You've lived here all your life. Haven't you heard of anyone who practices the old ways?"
Chen chewed thoughtfully, then pointed to the fields. "You want wisdom? The earth teaches better than any scroll. Plant a seed, tend it, watch it grow. That's the only immortality I know—life continuing through the seasons." He tapped the scroll with a calloused finger. "This? It's a story. But if it keeps you going, who am I to stop you?"
Li Wei nodded, disappointment mingling with a strange respect. Old Chen wasn't the robed sage he'd imagined, but his words carried a grounded truth. That night, as he camped in a borrowed shed behind the teahouse, Li Wei scribbled in his notebook: "Met Old Chen. No master, but taught earth qi manipulation. Path unclear, but progress made." He fell asleep to the sound of crickets, the scroll beside him, still believing that a true master was out there, waiting to guide him to the heavens. For now, the earth would have to be enough.