Dao Qi Wu Zang Guan Guan: I became a Daoist Master in the 1990s

Chapter 169 The idol is sculpted by the idol, and the consequences are borne by the idol.

Qi Yun stood quietly in the courtyard, his gaze lowered, seemingly looking at the ground, but actually looking at himself.

Deep within the space between the eyebrows, above the illusory image of the alchemy furnace, pale gold runes slowly swirl, like stars traversing the sky, silently revealing profound mysteries.

Although the Karma Seal was formed, there were only nine of them.

The great supernatural power within this furnace of cause and effect can only be activated once every fifty seals; now it is merely a drop in the ocean.

With such a treasure trove before them, yet no way to enter, a sense of helplessness inevitably arose in their hearts.

He looked up at the courtyard, but his thoughts were already drifting back to the time when Nanping Mountain collapsed.

The faces of the old Taoist priest Songfeng and Yan Chifeng appeared one by one.

Even if the two of them were able to survive those mysterious Yin techniques.

But then the mountains collapsed and the earth cracked. Their cultivation levels were low, and they were trapped inside. It was likely that their chances of survival were slim.

A sense of loneliness lingered in my heart, like a light rain wetting my clothes; it was invisible, but I could feel its chill.

However, as soon as this thought arose, he suppressed it again.

"Time and space are not a dead end for me. There will surely be a day when we meet again, and the promise made on the back mountain of Qingwei Temple will finally come to an end."

Thinking this, he temporarily buried his worries in his heart and turned to look at the reborn hall.

The palace was empty and silent, except for a white jade altar in the center that shone with a warm glow.

The stage was empty, without a single object on it.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing across the tabletop, feeling its cool touch.

Looking down, one sees eight characters engraved in ancient, simple script on the platform: "The statue is sculpted by itself, and the cause and effect are borne by itself."

Qi Yun silently recited the words once, a thought stirring within him. "Self-sculpting of the idol—does it mean I should sculpt an idol myself... or should the idol be sculpted using myself as the material?"

He pondered for a moment, and considering that this was an inner realm, he leaned more towards the latter.

It does not rely on external sources; it is the source itself.

This may be a path that takes oneself as its root and leads directly to the Great Way.

During this time, he vaguely glimpsed a key point in his future cultivation.

However, my current cultivation level is still too shallow to achieve this, so I will put the idea aside for now.

With everything settled, Qi Yun was in no hurry to descend the mountain. He decided to stay and cultivate in seclusion for a while, so as to experience the wonders of the inner landscape.

He then sat cross-legged in the hall and began to cultivate the "Nine Netherworld Pulling Silk Seal".

As soon as one calms down, one senses the difference. This place is clear and quiet, making it easy to calm one's thoughts. This allows one to draw and inscribe spells and runes more than twice as fast as outside.

Even more strangely, the physical hunger and fatigue disappeared, as if this place had become its own world, isolated from the needs of the mortal realm.

The light from the heavens above remains eternally unchanged, without the alternation of day and night. Only the consumption and restoration of divine consciousness reveals the passage of time.

He accurately perceived that the mental fatigue that would take six hours to recover in the outside world was fully restored to its peak in just three hours here.

"One day of cultivation here is equivalent to two days of cultivation outside." He was secretly delighted and became even more focused.

During a break from recovering his strength, he would get up and practice his swordsmanship in the courtyard.

Cheng Yun Sword was not drawn; he used the scabbard instead, holding it horizontally in front of him.

First, he activated the "fire generates earth" technique, and his sword aura suddenly became heavy and profound. Wherever the sword wind passed, the air became stagnant and heavy, as if he were trapped in a swamp.

He then attempted to induce the next transformation within this heavy aura. "Earth is of a solid and profound nature, containing essence, which gathers to form ore, and is refined to produce gold... Its nature is extremely hard and sharp, governing killing and suppressing, and controlling sternness and subjugation."

As his thoughts raced, he tried again and again. Occasionally, a faint golden glint would flash across the scabbard, but it was like a fleeting spark, unable to last.

If one continues this practice without ceasing, time passes unnoticed within the inner realm, and approximately ten days go by.

As Qi Yun was concentrating on yet another subtle understanding of "earth begets metal," a vast yet gentle force of repulsion suddenly surged from all around.

The entire space seemed to be pushing him away.

The scene before my eyes quickly distorted and blurred, like an ink painting soaked by rain, its shape and color disintegrating and becoming unrecognizable.

After a slight dizziness, the ground was slippery and muddy.

Upon closer inspection, I found myself standing on the mountain path, the tranquil courtyard behind me long gone.

He tried to turn back, but was gently blocked by an invisible yet resilient barrier of air. "It seems that one can only stay in the Inner Realm for a maximum of ten days at a time."

Having understood, he stopped insisting and strolled down the mountain along the path.

The mountain road was slippery, mixed with fallen leaves and mud.

Until you completely descend from the Immortal Mountain, the view suddenly opens up before you.

The sky was leaden gray, and the continuous autumn rain shrouded the distant mountains and nearby fields in a hazy mist.

He stood on the cement path in the field. Most of the rice had been harvested, leaving neat stubble and exposing the black soil. He breathed in the cool, damp air.

In the distance, the gray-walled, black-tiled villages of western Sichuan lay quietly in the rain, with the occasional bark of a dog piercing through the downpour.

Qi Yun smiled slightly and took a deep breath of the damp, cool air.

I felt that my tense mind, which had been in Yongzhou, could finally relax completely.

Walking slowly, after only ten minutes, we saw the fields ahead.

An old man wearing a tattered straw hat, with a piece of transparent plastic film draped over him as a raincoat, and knee-high rain boots, was working in the vegetable patch by the field.

Qi Yun stepped forward, cupped his hands in a respectful greeting, and spoke in a clear voice that cut through the rain: "Old man, I apologize for disturbing you. May I ask what place this is? And how do I get to Qingcheng Mountain?"

The old man looked up at the sound and saw that Qi Yun, dressed in black, was not disheveled despite being wet. He carried a long sword on his back and had a calm and extraordinary demeanor. He was stunned for a moment, then smiled and replied in a thick Sichuan accent.

"Oh my, so the Taoist priest came from the mountains?"

"Go this way up the mountain, follow this road straight without turning, it should take about half a day to get there."

Qi Yun nodded slightly: "Thank you, sir. I see that working in the rain must be very hard."

"What's so hard about it?" the old man waved his hand and grinned. "It's really hard in the summer sun, when it makes your skin peel."

Rain is a blessing from God, a comfortable day to eat!
"Is the Taoist priest going back to Qingcheng Mountain?"

He suddenly lowered his voice, with a hint of mystery, "I heard things haven't been peaceful up in the mountain lately, making everyone down below quite uneasy."

Qi Yun raised an eyebrow slightly: "Oh? Qingcheng Mountain is a blessed land, what could possibly be unsettling there?"

"Oh dear, it's all because of the government's unified planning!" the old man clicked his tongue.

"They demolished a lot of small temples. I heard the construction team keeps encountering unclean things at night."

Some people say the tool grew legs and ran away, and even more frighteningly, they heard a baby crying in the middle of the night! It was truly heartbreaking!
Everyone says it's those homeless deities throwing a tantrum and performing magic!

Upon hearing this, Qi Yun couldn't help but chuckle: "A Taoist temple haunted? That's quite strange."

He thanked the old farmer again and turned to walk along the road.

His steps seemed slow, but each step was swift and unpredictable, appearing slow but actually fast. In the blink of an eye, he was already more than ten feet away, and his dark blue figure quickly faded into the misty rain.

The old man rubbed his eyes, looked in the direction where Qi Yun had disappeared, and muttered, "Tsk, no wonder he came down from the mountain, he even walks with a swagger!"

The front of Qingcheng Mountain in the rain.

In a newly built viewing pavilion, Song Wan was wearing a slightly oversized sports jacket and faded jeans, the cuffs of which were already soaked by the rain and darkened in color.

She gazed at the endless rain outside the pavilion, her brows furrowed tightly, unconsciously clutching a tattered construction schedule in her hand, the paper covered with red and blue pen marks and notes.

He wondered where Qi Yun, who had suddenly disappeared, had gone!
She immediately reported Qi Yun's disappearance to the 749 headquarters the moment she heard it.

But the reaction there was quite normal. They said that Qi Yun had previously disappeared in the headquarters dormitory, and then suddenly reappeared in Shancheng two months later, so this time it should be the same, and they just had to wait.

Song Wan was also helpless. A month and a half had passed, and the Taoist temple was almost finished under the full efforts of the three construction teams. Now, the question was about the creation of the statues and the confirmation of the plaques and couplets. It was up to the abbot Qi Yun to make the final decision!

Just as Song Wan was wondering to herself when Qi Yun would return.

A series of unhurried footsteps pierced through the patter of rain and entered the pavilion.

The footsteps landed very steadily, clearly treading on the wet stone slabs.

Song Wan subconsciously looked up.

The fine rain, like smoke and mist, shrouded the world in a hazy mist.

A figure walked calmly through the rain.

(End of this chapter)