Chapter Eight: The Heart of the Pure Lotus

At this moment, daylight had fully broken; the moon had retreated, and the golden sun rose in the east. The two demons, seeing Yang Nan growing irritable and on the verge of anger, their faces turning pale with fear, dared not utter a word but simply followed Yang Nan as he flew into the woods. Yang Nan’s entry caused no stir, but the moment the two demons stepped beneath the trees, a booming voice rang out: “What foul creatures dare come here courting death?”

A crimson light shot forth from the forest, and in the blink of an eye, Chiyang’s Flaming Abyss Sword was pressed against the necks of the two demons! The sword crackled with overwhelming power, radiating such searing heat that it seemed it could reduce them to ashes in an instant.

The lotus and butterfly demons were terrified, clutching a few items in their trembling hands. Chiyang’s keen spiritual eyes swept over them and saw at once that they were but minor spirits of little cultivation. His gaze fixed on them as he barked, “What monsters are you, to dare come here with such feeble powers, seeking only your own doom?”

The lotus spirit, mustering her courage, pointed ahead with a quivering finger and stammered, “Immortal, you do not know—we came here with our lord.”

“Our lord? Could it be…?” Chiyang frowned and turned to look, only to see Yang Nan suddenly rise in a daze, as if awakening from a long, bewildering dream. The events of the night, half-real and half-illusory, left him stunned until he saw Chiyang’s sword frightening the two girls pale. In that instant, clarity returned.

So it had not been a dream!

These demons and ghostly officials were real!

Yet he was only a mortal man, with neither supernatural powers nor divine weapons. How could he have wandered the mountains as if in a dream, doing so many strange things in a single night?

Yang Nan stopped Chiyang’s sword and recounted every bizarre event of the night. Chiyang, seeing the sincerity in Yang Nan’s expression and the tangible evidence in the hands of the two little demons, was filled with wonder. Though he had joined a sect of immortals, he had never heard of such things before.

Since Yang Nan was heading to Kunlun, taking two minor spirits as attendants was no matter; with their meager powers, and Yang Nan guarded by the sacred scroll, they could never harm him. Chiyang’s heart was set at ease, and he sighed, “Ah Nan, you have yet to embark on the path of immortality, and already such miraculous things happen to you. I am truly ashamed to compare myself to you.”

A mere mortal accomplishing deeds of ghosts and gods—such things had happened before. In the past, a scholar traveling to the capital for the imperial examination aided the underworld in a dream; that scholar later became Zuo Wang, one of the three great Confucians!

With the precedent of venerable sages, Chiyang felt no small joy at Yang Nan’s extraordinary fate.

Yang Nan replied gravely, “Elder brother, you need not be so modest. The events of last night were so absurd, I cannot tell if they were real. But did you see the literary star fall to the west last night?”

Chiyang nodded, his face clouded with sorrow. “Several years ago, when the esteemed masters Fang Yuan and Zuo Wang passed, similar omens appeared in the heavens. The passing of a Confucian sage is marked above; it seems your grandfather’s fate is dire indeed.”

“Grandfather has truly left me, then?” Yang Nan’s face changed drastically. The suspicion in his heart was confirmed, and an unbearable grief welled up within him. Though he had reincarnated with memory intact, for twelve years his grandfather had cared for him with unwavering devotion, and Yang Nan had long regarded that stern, upright old man as his dearest kin.

Though he had known his grandfather’s time was short, for him to leave so suddenly in just a few days—how could Yang Nan’s heart not be wrung with pain?

“Grandfather…your grandson is unfilial, unable to see you off at the end!” Yang Nan collapsed to the ground, weeping bitterly. The last family he had in this world was gone. Twice he had lived, and still he found himself utterly alone. Sorrow flooded his heart, and tears streamed unchecked from his eyes.

Chiyang saw Yang Nan so lost and distraught, knowing that he could not accept the truth so suddenly. He sighed and gently patted Yang Nan’s shoulder, “Ah Nan, your grandfather was a master among Confucians. Even if his soul has gone to the afterlife, the underworld would not dare neglect him. Reincarnation is the proper course of the world. You are a seeker of the Way—do not give in to such mortal sorrow.”

Yang Nan nodded faintly, his face still heavy with grief. Yet he was no unfeeling stone; even those who became immortals could not claim to sever all emotion. The tree wishes to be still, but the wind will not cease; the child wishes to care for his parents, but they are gone. Such is the most bitter pain in the world. Though Yang Nan had memories of two lives, he could not escape it. Overwhelmed by sorrow, he lost all interest in the world; a wave of dizziness swept over him, and he slumped to the ground.

Scenes from both his past and present lives, images of his loving grandfather and the cruel faces of his uncles, all flashed through his mind in a dizzying torrent. Hatred, regret, pain, and grief tangled within him—he could not free himself.

Mortal men, caught in the net of the world, are rarely able to escape, for all are bound by the seven emotions and six desires. Joy, anger, love, and hate entwine the heart from birth, a net impossible to break.

Seeing Yang Nan sit there stunned, as if carved from wood or molded from clay, Chiyang grew anxious. He saw Yang Nan’s spirit was in turmoil; should an evil entity attack now, disaster would follow. Cultivators most feared such wounds to the soul. After exhausting himself last night, and now struck by the news of his grandfather’s death, Yang Nan’s mind was at its limit. Luckily, he had not yet gained true power, or he would surely have fallen into madness.

But Chiyang had no cure for this; a sickness of the heart could only be healed by the heart. Since ancient times, the barrier of emotion was the hardest to cross—especially familial love, which could entangle one for three lifetimes. Even the greatest sages could not escape it; what solution could Chiyang offer? Though he too grieved the old lord’s passing, his duty was to protect the young master—only thus could he honor the deceased.

“What to do?” Seeing Yang Nan sunk in silence, as if possessed, Chiyang paced the forest in helpless anxiety.

Nearby, the lotus spirit whispered with the butterfly spirit, then, gathering her courage, stepped forward and said softly, “Master, within my true form there is a thing called a Clear Lotus Heart. It can calm the mind and settle the spirit. If master’s soul is in turmoil, it could be of use.”

“Master…?” Butterfly called softly, but Yang Nan sat unmoved. Chiyang’s eyes lit up. “Where is your true form?” The Clear Lotus Heart was a medicine valued by cultivators for suppressing inner demons. While not a supreme treasure, it was rare enough. For the little spirit to offer it, at the cost of her own cultivation, surprised Chiyang.

“Immortal, just ahead in the valley,” the lotus spirit pointed. Chiyang turned to Butterfly, “Guard your master. I’ll go with the lotus spirit and be back soon.”

Butterfly agreed obediently, and Chiyang sped away with the lotus spirit. Now alone, Butterfly dared to observe her new master. She and her companion had cultivated for over two centuries before gaining even the faintest human form. In the wilds, time blurred; to truly become human would take another thousand years. Longing for the bustling world, Butterfly took on human shape to play among mortals, only to break the laws of the mountain gods. She thought herself doomed, yet this young boy had saved her.

Now, returned to his body, he was just an ordinary mortal, with none of last night’s awe-inspiring presence. His features were refined and handsome, a touch of gentle melancholy shrouding his brow. Eyes shut as he sat cross-legged, he looked for all the world like a motherless child.

Butterfly bit her lip gently, a sweet smile curving her delicate face. Pity for this lonely youth welled up in her heart. Seeing him sit in silence, she bravely reached out a slender hand to smooth the frown from his brow. When he did not react, she relaxed a little.

It was hard for spirits to cultivate; some struggled for a thousand years to take human form. Humans were the most spiritual of all beings. Most cultivators either despised or hunted such spirits; that this youth would rescue her last night was beyond Butterfly’s expectations.

In fact, Yang Nan bore no particular grudge against spirits. In his past life, there had even been organizations to protect endangered animals. Why should spirits be any different? They too were sentient beings of heaven and earth, deserving equal treatment.

Spirits were simple by nature, lacking the cunning of mortals, and Butterfly was no exception. Now that Yang Nan had accepted them as attendants, he was their only master; she would serve him with utter loyalty, and Lotus’s willingness to offer her Clear Lotus Heart came from the same devotion.

Before long, Chiyang and the lotus spirit returned, carrying a jade-colored lotus that emanated a fresh, delicate fragrance. Within its closed seed pod sat a tiny figure—the lotus spirit in her true form. Last night, the ghostly officials had summoned the two spirits’ souls; only now could they return to their bodies. Butterfly, overjoyed at the sight of the lotus, transformed into a streak of light and entered the seed pod. Soon, a small, human-shaped butterfly fluttered out, dancing around the jade lotus. The lotus spirit, within the pod, gathered several lotus hearts and handed them to Chiyang.

Yang Nan, lost in a storm of memories and emotions, was slipping ever further from himself. In the depths of his trance, he felt a cool, gentle breath flow into his mouth, reaching his mind like ice through bone, clearing away the chaos. As his scattered spirit gathered, he seized upon the sensation and slowly restored his composure. With a long breath, he opened his eyes.

In that instant, his mind was clear once more.

“Thank you, elder brother, for saving me!” Yang Nan, having experienced the horrors of inner demons, knew now just how perilous they could be. This brush with disaster was a narrow escape indeed.

Chiyang saw that the Clear Lotus Heart had worked wonders and smiled with relief. “Ah Nan, it’s fortunate you have not yet begun cultivation—otherwise, this time you would have been in grave danger. Remember: a seeker of the Way must remain unshaken, even if the heavens collapse. Do not let emotion rule you again! Had the lotus spirit not given you her lotus heart, you would be a madman by now.”

Yang Nan nodded, inwardly grateful for his luck. Even ordinary people can suffer grievous harm from sorrow and loss, let alone those who pursue the Way. Last night’s dream-like wandering had exhausted his spirit; the shock of his grandfather’s death had nearly undone him completely.

It would be wise to avoid such things in the future. Cultivators too must seek justice and vengeance as they see fit, but the dead are gone and old grudges can wait for another day. To be so ruled by feeling is far too sentimental. In a moment, Yang Nan stilled his heart.

Escaping this calamity was luck indeed. When he learned it was the lotus spirit who had helped him, he felt a newfound fondness for the two little demons. If before he sheltered them out of a simple compassion for all living things, now there was a true bond of gratitude.

“Thank you both. You are Baiyi and Dieyi, aren’t you?” Yang Nan thanked the two spirits sincerely. Who could have guessed that a moment’s kindness would bring such fortune?

The two spirits, flustered by their master’s gratitude, repeatedly said they were unworthy. Loyal by nature, they were overjoyed to have helped him. Now, showing their true forms, one was a colorful butterfly, the other a lotus. The lotus was remarkable: its seed pod had nine seeds. When the spirits first took form, each consumed one, and another was given to Yang Nan, leaving six remaining.

The lotus pod could open at will, forming its own space, large enough to hold both spirits’ true forms. When shrunk, it became a jade hairpin.

Yang Nan took the jade lotus, collected the spirits within, and tucked the hairpin into his hair. Without the eyes of a cultivator, no one would know he hid two spirits upon his person.

Seeing Yang Nan restored, Chiyang led him to his horse and they set off into the mountains. Though Yang Nan had wandered Mount Qingbi by night, its daytime scenery was a world apart. As they traveled, the sights grew ever more wondrous. Reaching the foot of Jade Brush Peak, they found a grand and imposing temple to the mountain god. Wanting proof that last night had not been a dream, Yang Nan took Chiyang inside to explore.