Chapter 43: Blessed Land and Spiritual Sanctuary, A Refuge from Calamity

The string of words from the Golden Leopard left Cao Kong flustered and ill at ease.

At last, he understood why, in past lives and throughout the dynasties, it was always the men of letters who most easily courted disaster with their words—they were simply too adept at interpreting meanings. The literary inquisition was very real, especially in this world where ranks and titles were so meticulously observed.

Simply because he had, in accordance with the original text, named the cave dwelling “Folding the Mountains,” the Golden Leopard had extrapolated it to mean “the greatest under heaven, surpassing even the Five Sacred Peaks.” How could this be reasonable?

After Cao Kong spoke, the Golden Leopard waggled his brows and said, “Brother, I get it. Let’s keep a low profile until we truly become number one under heaven. Quietly do great things.”

Cao Kong: “???”

With that, the Golden Leopard flicked his claws, leaped into the air, and with a sweeping motion, five grand characters appeared on the stone slab above the cave: Folding the Mountains Chain Caverns.

Cao Kong saw how much the Golden Leopard cherished the name he’d given and found himself at a loss for words. Still, he had to admit, the Golden Leopard’s calligraphy truly captured the spirit of the words.

The Golden Leopard had always believed Cao Kong was capable of anything. Now, having convinced himself he’d grasped the true essence of “Folding the Mountains,” a soaring, exuberant spirit welled up within him—not confidence in himself, but in Cao Kong.

Thus, these five characters emphasized spirit and gravitas, not mere form. Should any traveler happen across these words in the mountains, they would sense the boldness within—a spirit that regarded the world as small, compelling even the Five Sacred Peaks to bow.

Though it was a kind of arrogance bordering on hubris, it was there, unmistakably.

Yet Cao Kong hesitated—should he keep the name? But then he considered: “Folding the Mountains” was a title more audacious than almost any other, ancient or modern. Why not let it be? After all, it was merely the name of a cave dwelling, not his own. If calamity should follow, so be it.

As he was persuading himself thus, the Golden Leopard spoke again: “Brother, if we return here one day, you can be the King of Folding the Mountains, and I’ll be the King of the Chains. What do you think?”

Cao Kong’s face darkened. He yanked the Golden Leopard’s ear. “You mustn’t speak carelessly every day. Show reverence for heaven and earth, and beware that disaster follows loose lips.”

The Golden Leopard may not have respected heaven and earth, but he did respect Cao Kong, and meekly replied, “Alright.”

The two brothers tarried in Hidden Mist Mountain for several days, the Golden Leopard reluctant to leave.

Cao Kong had wanted to quickly investigate whether the landscapes depicted on the star map held any opportunities, but considering the Golden Leopard’s luck, he decided there was no need to rush.

He would follow the Golden Leopard’s lead—fortune and misfortune were intertwined; perhaps setting out later would yield greater rewards.

So, he sat alone atop a cliff, cultivating the art of Gathering Wind and Nurturing Qi, to nourish the metallic energy in his lungs.

Turning his gaze inward, he saw a mass of cloud and mist within his lungs, shot through with golden light, like a dragon swimming within the vapor, its sharpness concealed yet nourishing his spirit. His progress was several times faster than before.

As Cao Kong absorbed the essence of heaven and earth—the power of starlight and so on—his cultivation grew daily, and the cloud within his lungs responded in kind, slowly flourishing.

Cao Kong realized that, with time and perseverance, this mist could nourish his other organs as well.

One day passed, then another, until nine days had gone by. During his meditation, he felt the resonance between his practice and Hidden Mist Mountain itself; with every breath, it was as though the mountain, too, was breathing with him.

The mountain grew purer, the waters clearer, and all living things became more vibrant.

Just then, an object in his sleeve trembled slightly. Cao Kong took it out—it was the so-called Heaven-made Book of Mountains and Rivers.

Opening it, he found a new line inscribed: “There is a mountain called Hidden Mist, within which lies a cave named Folding the Mountains Chain Caverns…”

“A leopard dwells in the cave, fond of the Dao, its fate entwined with the mountain. Though not yet ascended to immortality, it has grasped the rudiments of the Blessed Land arts. Its practice harmonizes with Hidden Mist; in time, it may cultivate the mountain into a true Daoist sanctuary, a place of fortune.”

Cao Kong was astonished—was the art he had developed, Gathering Wind and Nurturing Qi, truly the embryonic form of the Blessed Land technique?

What did this mean?

He pondered deeply and recalled the Daoist canon, which described a Blessed Land as a place of happiness and peace, abode of immortals; a sanctuary was where immortals attained enlightenment.

If the Book of Mountains and Rivers recorded it thus, did it not suggest that Hidden Mist Mountain had the potential to become his own Blessed Land, his Daoist sanctuary?

At this thought, Cao Kong was overjoyed. He resolved that, once the Golden Leopard’s affairs were settled, he, too, would reside in Hidden Mist Mountain and pursue longevity and enlightenment.

…

At that very time, in Longevity Mountain, within the Five Villages Temple, there was a Daoist.

The Daoist wore a crown of purple gold, a robe of carefree crane feathers, shoes upon his feet, and a silken sash at his waist. His form was youthful, his face as fair as a maiden’s, three whiskers flowing from his chin, raven-black locks framing his temples.

It was none other than the Great Immortal Zhenyuan. He seemed to sense something and looked up; three years prior, he had already perceived that a fated person was destined for a certain wisp of pure wind.

But his cultivation also valued fate, so the Great Immortal Zhenyuan acted as he pleased—pondering the Great Dao, instructing disciples, practicing day by day.

If fate decreed it, their meeting would come in time—why rush?

But just now, something was different; the Book of Pure Wind stirred with unusual movement.

The Immortal Zhenyuan consulted his calculations and learned that the living being who had acquired the book transformed from pure wind had already grasped the rudiments of the Blessed Land technique—and had not even entered the ranks of immortals.

What did this mean? The so-called Blessed Lands and Immortal Caverns were mysteries even to the gods—rare and precious, as they were akin to small worlds unto themselves.

To dwell within such a place meant unhindered cultivation and refuge from calamity.

Yet now, a being not yet an immortal had attained such understanding.

For a moment, even Zhenyuan could not remain unmoved. Yet, as the forefather of Earth Immortals, he would not act rashly, having yet to observe this person’s disposition and character.

After a moment’s thought, Zhenyuan called out, “Pure Wind, Bright Moon.”

Two child attendants entered—their bones refined, spirits bright, faces fair, hair tied in twin knots, Daoist robes curling with mist, feathered sleeves fluttering in the breeze.

“Master, what is your command?” the two children bowed.

Zhenyuan stroked his beard and smiled, “I have discerned that a fated one exists to the west. Travel there on my behalf and see what manner of person it is. If their character is upright and their disposition good, bring them back to the Five Villages Temple for a visit.”

Pure Wind and Bright Moon, delighted, replied in unison, “As you wish!”

They hurried off to pack their things. Though devoted to the Dao, the two child attendants were also pleased at the prospect of venturing out into the human world.

Thus, they set out westward to seek the fated one.

…

Fifteen days later, in Hidden Mist Mountain, the Golden Leopard finally—reluctant—sought out Cao Kong, saying that they would return to Hidden Mist Mountain in the future, but for now, should seek out the landscapes marked on the star map.

The two brothers journeyed east, soon reaching the borders of the Kingdom of Bhikshu, wandering among rivers and mountains, and indeed seeing sights depicted on the star map.

Yet, after searching the mountain thoroughly, they found nothing unusual.

Cao Kong frowned in thought. Had someone else beaten them to it, or did the opportunity require the right time, place, and people?

Spotting a village at the foot of the mountain, Cao Kong transformed into a Daoist and asked the villagers if anything strange had happened in the mountains.

Seeing Cao Kong’s Daoist bearing and the Golden Leopard’s aura of fortune, the villagers welcomed them without fear and proudly explained that, in three days’ time, the mountains would be filled with a fragrant scent—a unique spectacle that happened every year at this time, when the Southern Star shone brightest in the sky.

They had arrived at just the right moment.

A glimmer of joy appeared in Cao Kong’s eyes—here was the turning point. It seemed the opportunity had not yet passed.