Chapter 632: The Dragon-Tiger Daoist Kingdom

Chapter 632: The Dragon-Tiger Dao State

Jiangxi Province, Guixi County.

Night had fallen, yet the city teemed with crowds.

On the streets, blue-robed passersby brushed shoulders, while Daoist banners hung thick as forest from the eaves.

Black tortoises, vermilion phoenixes, azure qilin, and golden flood dragons—vast projections of Daoist spirit beasts loomed in the four cardinal directions.

Besides these, Taiji trigrams, the true forms of the Five Sacred Peaks, the Big Dipper, and myriad other Daoist emblems filled the vista wherever one looked.

The Hall of Awakened Dao, which managed the Yellow Millet Cave-Heaven, blazed day and night; above its door floated the two lines, 'The Patriarch grants affinity—enter with sincerity,' open to all Daoists free of charge.

Grand chanting and the tolling of bells drifted from the windows, intertwining and swelling to fill the whole city.

The shops selling various Daoist implements and talismans were equally packed; the only difference lay in the sign before their doors: 'Slay demons, eradicate evil—guard our Dao state.'

The strokes were sharp, exuding a killing intent.

Zhang Chongcheng, returning from the borderlands, entered the city unannounced, without the pomp befitting a Grand Master of Longhu Mountain.

Upon his first steps inside, Zhang Chongcheng was startled by the immense transformation before him.

Consider that his round‑trip to the border had taken less than a month, yet Guixi County had nearly doubled in size, its population swollen beyond reckoning.

Moreover, every passerby wore Daoist attire, though their accents varied—it seemed Daoists from every corner of the land had gathered here.

“Hurry, the Guixi Dao Palace is about to bestow dao foundations; miss this chance and we know not when the next batch will come, nor how long our cultivation will be delayed.”

“Exactly, we cannot afford to delay—let’s go.”

While Zhang Chongcheng surveyed the city’s transformation, a noisy, hurried exchange nearby drew his attention.

After he pushed through the throng to the central Guixi Dao Palace, he found the entrance utterly blocked.

A sea of heads filled the square before the palace, eyes blazing, heads lifted in anticipation.

Zhang Chongcheng arrived among the last, forced to stand far at the periphery, gazing at the grand Dao hall whose distance of a hundred zhang still filled his sight.

In his memory, the old Guixi Dao Palace had never been so vast, nor so lavish.

Why was the palace expanded without anyone reporting to him? Without the lord’s sanction, this band of bold ruffians dared act on their own—sheer folly!

Zhang Chongcheng’s already gloomy mood turned to irritable fury, and a cold smile crept across his face.

Though merely a trifle, in his eyes it was unmistakably a challenge to his authority over Longhu Mountain affairs.

“It seems that after just a few days away, the hearts of the mountain folk have begun to turn from the Dao toward power.”

Dong.

A sonorous bell rang, proclaiming the arrival of the zi hour, the first of the twelve double-hours.

Amid countless fervent gazes, the scarlet doors of the Guixi Dao Palace, nearly a zhang high, swung open slowly; banners and canopies led the way, bells and drums followed, as two rows of Daoists in splendid robes filed out from the haze of incense.

At the center of the procession, shielded by guards, stood the presiding priest—his expression haughty and aloof—whom Zhang Chongcheng recognized at once.

A junior scion, perhaps holding a minor post in the Celestial Master’s mansion.

Yet his bearing now outshone even Zhang’s own, resembling a noble Celestial Master.

Zhang Chongcheng’s eyes grew ever colder, though he did not rush to reveal his identity.

First, he saw no point in squabbling over face with such a junior; second, he wished to observe what Daoist policies the mountain had enacted in his absence, and who behind the scenes was meddling.

The steps of the Guixi Dao Palace rose higher than a stack of men; the priest looked down from on high upon the congregation.

“O faithful ones.”

Hardly had he begun when the crowd erupted in reverent shouts, a mountain‑roaring, sea‑surging fervor that spiked instantly.

The priest, accustomed to such spectacles, showed no extra expression; he pressed his hands downward in a silent gesture, waiting for the throng to calm before speaking again.

“Seeing your sincere devotion to the Dao, I am even heartened.”

The priest bowed toward Longhu Mountain, then continued: “Yet there is no need to rush; the Guixi Dao Palace, obeying the mountain’s edict, now broadcasts opportunity—regardless of sex, age, wealth, or pedigree, ignoring aptitude or sect, any Daoist whose fortune suffices may receive a dao foundation meticulously forged by the Celestial Master’s Bureau of Talismans.”

“Furthermore!”

The priest’s voice rose sharply, quelling the growing murmur.

“For those who break the seal, advance in rank, and transcend mortality to become immortals, Longhu Mountain will fling wide its gates, admitting them into the Nine Divisions of Dragon and Tiger as full disciples; those of exceptional talent may even join the Celestial Master’s mansion, soaring to heaven, the Great Dao within reach!”

“Boundless Dragon and Tiger, the Celestial Master’s blessing!”

The crowd roared in unison, the cry echoing through the night sky.

The priest, pleased, smiled, flicked his sleeve, and cried: “Heaven‑sent opportunity—begin now!”

Instantly, bright stars like the moon appeared in the night sky, casting down random pillars of light upon the crowd.

Those bathed in the light flushed with ecstasy, shoving aside envious onlookers, striding head‑high toward the palace to kneel reverently on the steps.

The blessing ceremony raged like fire and tea, yet Zhang Chongcheng lost interest, his face darkening as he turned and pushed his way out of the throng.

Cave‑heavens, dao foundations, talismans, Daoist implements.

Once worth a fortune, Daoist opportunities now lay free at Longhu’s feet, scattered everywhere.

No matter how misshapen the melon, each has a chance to break the seal and rise in rank.

Such a flourishing Daoist atmosphere, in Zhang Chongcheng’s eyes, resembled swords being sharpened, troops poised for battle at dawn.

This feeling was not baseless.

Daoist lineages have always followed an elite path; even the low‑threshold new sects demand of their disciples a lofty Dao heart—high compatibility with the cave‑heaven and great capacity to bear its load.

Otherwise, within the cave‑heaven’s cycle, one easily sinks utterly, risking deviation into madness or even being usurped by the Yellow Millet Ghost Vulture.

Yet now Longhu Mountain bestows vast quantities of Daoist implements and foundations for free upon ordinary folk lacking any Daoist qualification, and with the cave‑heavens thrown open without cost, it is practically flinging wide its gates—are the mountain’s disciples really any different anymore?

Implementing such a policy demands incalculable masses of resources; even if Longhu Mountain has annexed Geshan and Maoshan, how long can it sustain this? And what, in the end, would be the point?

If the Celestial Master merely sought to shore up Longhu Mountain’s precarious position as the Daoist ancestral seat, he need only have Geshan’s folk speak up—there would be no need for all this.

Now, with education open to all, a fervent zeal for universal Daoism is being cultivated, and the ubiquitous slogan “Dao State” seen throughout the city makes the hidden aim plain as day.

Winning hearts, turning the entire Dao into an army!

Zhang Chongcheng, who fancied himself having pierced Zhang Jiji’s thoughts, sucked in a sharp breath of cold air.

Yet what unsettled him more was that these policies had not existed before his departure from Longhu Mountain, nor had anyone informed him, the Grand Master, of their promulgation beforehand.

The depths of a noble house are like the sea, yet they pale beside the boundless profundity of the Dao.

The heavenly favor of earthly emperors is unfathomable, but it falls short of the Celestial Master’s lofty and subtle Dao heart.

Could it be that his performance at the border has provoked the Celestial Master’s displeasure?

Or is someone secretly pulling strings, trying to steal his grace?

As Zhang Chongcheng pondered the true cause behind these events, he found himself, without realizing, before the mountain gate archway that Chen Qisheng had once smashed with a single fist.

Here the gate had long since been rebuilt; the four gilt characters “Daoist Ancestral Seat” gleamed in the night.

Zhang Chongcheng declined the conveyance that could carry him straight to the summit, choosing instead to climb on foot.

“If it is because of the border affair, the situation is not yet dire; the Buddhist sect simply proved worthless, crushed utterly before Li Jun, unable to strike back—my temporary retreat to avoid the edge is understandable.”

But if someone were scheming behind the scenes, I would have to guard against it. But who could that be?

Zhang Chongcheng furrowed his brows as he walked the lonely, silent mountain path.

Logically speaking, Zhang Chongyuan had already perished and vanished from the Dao; within Longhu Mountain, no one could stand equal to him in rank and status.

In the next generation, the only one capable of entering the Celestial Master Zhang's discerning gaze was Zhang Qingli alone.

Yet given their relationship, there would be no reason for him to do something that would cripple himself.

But if Zhang Qingli were fine, why had I received not a whisper from the Yellow Liang Cave Heaven, left forever in the dark?

Could it be that Qingli too has met with misfortune?!

Upon this thought, Zhang Chongcheng's heart sank sharply; he dismissed the petty notion of begging forgiveness while trudging up the mountain, and quickened his pace.

Below, flowers bloomed in brocade; above, the mountain remained pure and tranquil.

Zhang Chongcheng made his way all the way to the Ancestral Hall at the highest peak of the Longhu ranges; yet the nearer he drew to the Daoist hall, the more his agitation gave way to calm.

He did not rashly enter the hall; instead, he disregarded his own stature and knelt directly before the Ancestral Hall.

“I report to the Master, the guilty Chongcheng has returned from the borderlands to the mountain gate.”

Within the hall there was no response for a long moment, as if his plea for forgiveness had gone unheard.

Yet Zhang Chongcheng dared not slacken in the slightest; his expression grew ever more reverent.

“It's good that you've returned.”

Suddenly, a strange voice echoed from within the hall.

The voice mingled the clear timbre of a child with the weathered sigh of an elder, making the listener's heart flutter.

Yet when it reached Zhang Chongcheng's ears, it struck like a thunderclap, churning the seas of his mind.

At that moment, Zhang Chongcheng utterly forgot all the excuses and pretexts he had prepared, as well as the petty scheming and sycophantic flattery.

Now only one thought filled his mind: Dao Order Two!

Zhang Chongcheng lay prostrate like a mortal at the foot of a deity, his head bowed deep, his body trembling.

“Chongcheng, did you bring anything back from the borderlands for your master?”

Zhang Chongcheng replied in a trembling voice: “Disciple has failed in his duty; please, Master, punish me!”

“So you brought nothing at all?”

Zhang Jiji sighed: “You went to the borderlands to collect debts; how did you return empty‑handed?”

“I report to the Master, Li Jun has advanced to the Solitary Sequence Three; the Buddhist Han and Fan lineages have no one who can stand against him, therefore disciple—”

Zhang Chongcheng had not finished his sentence when a voice that could never belong in the Longhu Mountain Ancestral Hall suddenly cut him off.

“Is it that the opponent is unbeatable, or that you, Dao Brother, never even tried to block and simply turned and fled?”

Zhang Chongcheng jerked his head up to see the hall doors flung open, and a short, round‑faced Daoist stepped out.

“Qingcheng Sect Leader, Liang Gongming?!” Zhang Chongcheng's pupils constricted as he forced the name from between his teeth.

The round‑faced Daoist smiled and said, “Dao Brother, you have a good memory; it is indeed I, your humble servant. But there is one detail to correct: from now on I am no longer the Qingcheng Sect Leader, but an external Celestial Master of the Longhu Mountain Daoist Abbey, Liang Gongming.” At this, Zhang Chongcheng's heart suddenly cleared, and he instantly understood who was behind all this.

“I never would have guessed that the former Liang Daoist, who once dominated the southwest, could grasp the saying ‘Those who know the times are true heroes’ so thoroughly.”

“That is only natural; now the Celestial Master Zhang, following Heaven's Will, descends to the mortal realm and leads us Daoists in establishing a Daoist state—what a precious opportunity—how could I dare defy Heaven's Will and ignore orders?”

Faced with Zhang Chongcheng's sarcasm, Liang Gongming took no offense, saying: “Moreover, now that we have attained great awakening, those who choose to turn from darkness to light are not only me.”

“And who else?”

As Zhang Chongcheng's words left his lips, a tall, thin Daoist emerged from the shadows of the Daoist hall and bowed to him from afar.

“I am the external Celestial Master of the Longhu Mountain Daoist Abbey, Fu Li; I have the honor to meet you, Dao Brother.”

Zhang Chongcheng's eyes narrowed; the man was indeed the former leader of the Yongle Palace.

The Four Mountains and One Palace—now a thing of the past.

Under heaven, only the Longhu lineage remains.

“Liang Gongming, since we are now all our own people, what did you mean by what you just said?”

Zhang Chongcheng demanded angrily: “Are you doubting that this lord fears battle and flees?”

“I harbor no such thought; but even if I did, it would be of no consequence, for that is the Martial Solitary Sequence Three—no ordinary person can provoke it.”

Liang Gongming's face flushed with resentment as he said: “It merely cheapened the Eastern Imperial Palace crowd, who for years have pinned the black pot on our Longhu Mountain, slandering and besmirching the Celestial Master Zhang's honored name—not only have they avoided paying their due price, they have profited handsomely; I truly cannot bear it!”

Upon hearing this, Zhang Chongcheng shuddered with alarm, daring no further argument, and struck his head against the ground.

“Disciple, this time I failed to manifest the might of Longhu on the borderlands; it is my inadequacy—please, Master, punish me!”

“You did not accomplish the task; according to the sect's rules, punishment is indeed warranted.”

Hearing those words, a chill shot through Zhang Chongcheng's heart.

“Regardless that now is the time to employ people, the Celestial Master will temporarily spare you and grant you a chance to atone through merit.”

“The Celestial Master's mercy is indeed a blessing for all beings!”

Having been firmly grasped, Zhang Chongcheng had not yet recovered when Liang Gongming stepped forward, clasped his fists, bowed, and loudly praised before him.

“That slippery old dog, a boneless fat pig!”

Zhang Chongcheng cursed inwardly, then hastily shouted: “The Celestial Master is merciful!”

“Enough; from now on you need not utter such useless words. Henceforth, the three of you shall govern this Daoist state of Longhu well for the Celestial Master.”

“We shall obey the Celestial Master's edicts!”

The three replied in unison.

“Chongcheng.”

Zhang Jiji continued with that strange voice, asking: “You have just returned from outside; surely you must have seen what the scene below is like now, right?”

“Disciple has seen it.”

“What do you think?”

Zhang Chongcheng's heart tightened; though he did not know why the other asked thus, his pure Dao heart could not voice his misgivings here, and he immediately replied: “Disciple dare not speak recklessly, but if the Master commands, I will lay liver and brains upon the ground, dying thereafter!"

“The Great Ming Empire has rotted for years; its fragmentation and collapse were inevitable, and even when the twelve sequences were established then, the world ought to have returned to the flourishing scene of the Spring and Autumn period, when a hundred schools contended.”

Liang Gongming respectfully said: “Therefore the Celestial Master's establishment of a Daoist state is indeed in accordance with Heaven's Will; millions of Daoist followers naturally turn their hearts to it, and I too shall hold the reins and stirrups, clearing all obstacles for the Celestial Master!”

“Same.”

Fu Li spoke briefly and to the point, yet the fervor in his eyes was in no way inferior to anyone else's.

“Very well, the Heavenly Derivation leaves but a single line from forty‑nine. Now corrupt ministers hold sway, chaos disrupts the court, causing the people to suffer and demons to arise together. The Celestial Master shall lead you into the world, to quell turmoil, slay evil demons, and seize this slender chance at immortality!”

A hearty laugh rang out from within the Daoist hall.

In the surging darkness, a pair of eyes slowly emerged, their light sharp as a sword.

“Zhang Fengyue, next, it shall be the Celestial Master's turn to play a game against you!”