Chapter Forty-Three: The Tribulation of Yin and Yang

At that moment, footsteps approached from nearby. The pace was neither hurried nor slow. Because the night was so dark, I couldn't see clearly until the person was within a dozen meters of me. To my surprise, it was a Taoist priest.

Moreover, I recognized this Taoist. Back when my cousin-in-law's ordeal had plunged the villagers into fear, they had invited a Taoist from another place. That priest had come to my house, discussed matters with my grandfather, then sought out my cousin-in-law's grave, burned her coffin, and thus resolved the incident.

I had once wondered if he was the same Taoist who had saved my life years ago, but I had never found any clue to confirm it. Since he never appeared again, there was no way to investigate further.

Now, seeing him reappear, I was truly astonished.

The Taoist looked just as he had back then, with a jade hairpin holding up his topknot, exuding an air of transcendence and unworldliness. Even confronted by so many shadowy soldiers, his expression did not change.

He walked straight up to me, glanced at the jade pendant in my hand, and asked, “Where did you get this jade ornament?”

As soon as he spoke, the icy grip that had enveloped me began to dissipate. I managed to reply, “The Mistress of the Azure Robes gave it to me.”

“The Mistress of the Azure Robes—would that be Wang Qingyi?” he asked again.

I didn’t know her real name, so I said, “I think so.”

Suddenly, I recalled that the ornament she gave me was from her master, who was, in fact, the Taoist that saved my life all those years ago. Now that he was asking about its origin, could this mean it was he who gave it to her, and he was indeed that very Taoist?

A surge of emotion rose within me, leaving me somewhat breathless.

As I conversed with the Taoist, the shadowy soldiers nearby were momentarily ignored. The leader of the soldiers grew furious, his face twisted in rage. He shouted, “Where did this wild Taoist come from, daring to disregard my presence? What are you all waiting for? Seize him!”

“But sir, he is of the Daoist order!” one of the soldiers muttered, trying to warn him.

His words, though kindly meant, came at the wrong moment. Before he could finish, the leader struck him so hard he was sent flying.

“Wearing a Daoist robe doesn’t make him a priest! Get him!” the leader barked again. None dared defy him, and several soldiers, swinging their bronze chains, rushed forward.

The Taoist, however, seemed unconcerned. He reached out his hand, as if asking me to return the ornament.

Since it was originally his, and I had even damaged it, I didn’t hesitate and handed it over.

He closed his hand around it. When he opened his palm again, the jade pendant chimed softly, restored to its original, flawless state.

Amazed, I asked how he’d done that. He smiled and said, “As long as the spirit endures, the jade will not break.” He returned the ornament to me, saying, “Since my disciple gave this to you, keep it well.”

“Look out behind you!” I warned, for the shadowy soldiers’ bronze chains were already lashing toward him, aiming for his neck.

“It’s nothing,” he replied calmly, and the bronze chains behind him halted instantly.

He turned around, merely clenching his fist in the air—without even touching the chains. With a series of crashes, the chains shattered into pieces, scattering across the ground.

Was this the Taoist of my childhood imagination, like an immortal descended to earth? My childhood yearning and reverence now stood before me in flesh and blood, stirring waves of awe inside me.

I couldn’t help but wonder—if I were as powerful as he, would Weiyang ever have needed to leave me?

With his first move, the Taoist cowed the soldiers. They dared not advance, yet, bound by their leader’s order, they also dared not retreat, leaving them paralyzed in indecision.

“Are you sure you wish to oppose me?” the Taoist asked quietly.

At his words, the last shreds of courage left those soldiers. They no longer cared for orders or consequences; their only concern was self-preservation. They turned and fled, stumbling over each other in their haste.

The Taoist then turned to face the leader.

He said, “Since ancient times, the dead have no place among the living. Matters among the living are for the Dao to govern. For your kind to abduct mortals so openly—do you take the Daoist order for nothing?”

The leader only chuckled coldly. “The Daoist order? What a joke. These days you’re nothing but a loose rabble. Tell me, how many centuries has it been since any of you possessed a true spirit?”

“Is that so?” the Taoist countered, fixing his gaze on the leader.

Suddenly, I saw the leader’s face contort. The black order-token in his hand dropped to the ground, and he clutched his head, writhing in agony.

The Taoist picked up the black token, crushed it in his palm, and it turned to dust, scattering on the night wind. The black sword pressing against my brow also dissolved into black mist.

When the leader finally stopped, he was nearly broken. I had no idea what the Taoist had done; he hadn’t moved a muscle, yet reduced the leader to such a state—what terrifying power was this?

“Go. Matters of the living are not for the dead to meddle with,” the Taoist said.

The other soldiers hurriedly dismounted, lifted their leader, and fled in panic.

The Taoist then helped me remove the bronze chains from my body. Blood gushed from the wound through my collarbone. He produced a powder from his sleeve and sprinkled it on the wound, instantly stopping the bleeding and easing the pain.

With the soldiers gone, only the Taoist, He Xiaojing, and I remained. The Taoist glanced at her and said, “The paths of the living and the dead never cross. You should have no further ties with this world.”

He Xiaojing said nothing; from his words, it was clear he saw through her lingering attachment.

“The paths of the living and the dead never cross, is that so?” she echoed, her reply clearly hinting at my marriage to Ye Weiyang.

“Indeed. Should you defy this law and force union between the living and the dead, calamity will surely follow. No one in the three realms is exempt,” the Taoist said.

No one in the three realms is exempt.

Those words pierced my heart. My union with Weiyang was just such a case. Was this why she left me, saying she didn’t want to harm me?

He Xiaojing smiled faintly, saying nothing more.

“If you remain here, your attachment will only grow. If you don’t leave now, you may never be able to. Allow me to guide you—may you quickly enter the next cycle of rebirth,” the Taoist said.

He Xiaojing turned to look at me.

The Taoist began to chant a prayer for the departed.

He Xiaojing raised a hand toward me. Except for sorrow, there was nothing else in her expression. Gradually, her spirit grew fainter, more transparent.

Just before she vanished, she called out, “Brother Lin Yi, I hope we meet again in the next life.”

With those words, she disappeared completely.

“I hope we never meet again,” I said as she faded.

For I knew that if we met again, she would only be hurt once more. Better not to see each other, so perhaps she could find someone better and live happily.

“Love has always left only regret; the sweetest dreams are the quickest to fade.”

After I spoke, the Taoist recited this verse, catching me by surprise.

I asked if there was a deeper meaning. He replied that it was just something he said casually. Thanks to his help, I had survived by the narrowest margin. Not knowing his name, I asked how I should address him.

He told me to call him Master Li.

But I addressed him as Elder Li, for “Master” alone did not suffice to express my respect. I still hadn’t figured out what was really happening in our village, but Master Li seemed to know something. He said that even the boldest agents of the underworld would never dare seize the living from this world unless there were grave crimes and written charges. Therefore, those villagers had indeed died, and my grandfather had used some method to preserve their lives.

I couldn’t understand this. I asked Master Li, but he said he didn’t know—only my grandfather could answer that. The underworld had already taken everyone it could from the village, but stayed longer, using it as a pretense to try to seize both my grandfather and me. They meant to fish in troubled waters.

I asked why. The Taoist said that if it were just about my grandfather saving the villagers, it wouldn’t warrant such a commotion—deploying even shadowy soldiers to the world of the living. Clearly, they had another agenda. He also warned me that if I dreamed of someone trying to take me away in the night, I must never go with them. The underworld would surely try again; luring souls through dreams was a common trick of theirs.

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