Under One Person: I Have a Billion Taoist Gods Within Me

Chapter 72 Where are the "comrades"? Who are the "soulmates"?

Thousands of miles away.

Inside the upper room of the inn.

Li Yuan sat quietly by the window, his eyes slightly closed.

The images conveyed by that ray of sexual light appeared one by one in the lake of his heart.

He saw Wugensheng looking frozen in place.

The young figure stood frozen at the cave entrance, motionless.

That was not the stillness of the physical body, but the stagnation of the soul.

At that moment, Wugensheng's form and spirit were forcibly stripped away by some force.

The body remains here, but the spirit has already traveled far away.

Li Yuan knew that Wu Gensheng's consciousness had already entered the inner world.

interior.

That is a realm deep within human consciousness.

It is neither outside nor inside the body.

Although it is said to be inside the body, it is vast and boundless, capable of containing mountains, rivers, and all things.

Although it is said to be external to the body, it is rooted deep within the soul and connected to life itself.

It was a world shrouded in mist.

I can't see anything clearly.

I can't touch anything.

Only endless confusion.

This confusion is an inevitable part of the journey.

Li Yuan watched quietly.

There was an indescribable meaning in that gaze.

It's like watching a seed being buried in the soil, waiting for it to sprout; or like watching a small boat sailing into the mist, waiting for it to find its way home.

Because he knew that entering the inner realm without being confused, and exiting the inner realm without being perplexed, was the beginning of entering the Tao.

The Taoist scriptures say: "Vague and indistinct, yet within it there is something; profound and mysterious, yet within it there is essence."

That hazy, mysterious realm is the entrance to the inner landscape.

Only those who can enter this realm without falling into it can see their true nature; only those who can leave this realm without being confused can understand the Way.

really.

Not long after.

Wugensheng's body suddenly trembled.

The tremor was extremely slight, like being startled awake from a nightmare, or rising from the abyss.

You wouldn't notice it at all unless you looked closely.

But within that slight tremor lay a fundamental change.

Like a seed breaking through the soil, like a crack tearing through chaos.

Wugensheng's dazed eyes suddenly regained focus at that moment.

The focus recovered very slowly and with great difficulty.

It was as if something was pulling at Wugensheng's consciousness, preventing him from returning.

That was the attraction of the inner landscape, the hold that the world held back.

Those who can break free need sufficient resolve; those who can return need a solid foundation.

But in the end, Wugensheng still came back.

The light in his eyes shone again.

But within that light, there was now a hint of confusion, a hint of bewilderment, and a hint of—

Something that can't be explained or described.

That feeling was like loss, or perhaps melancholy; like regret, or perhaps relief.

They were all mixed together, and even Wugensheng himself couldn't tell them apart.

The Zhuangzi states: "He who dreams of drinking wine will weep in the morning; he who dreams of weeping will go hunting in the morning."

Between dream and wakefulness, is there truth or illusion?

The sense of melancholy felt by those who enter the inner realm upon their return stems from this very principle.

Wugensheng stood there, his brows furrowed.

He subconsciously raised his hand and pressed his temple.

There was an instinctive confusion in that movement: What just happened to me?

Where did I just go?

"What was that place just now?"

Wugensheng muttered to himself, his voice full of confusion.

"How did my consciousness suddenly and uncontrollably enter that place?"

He couldn't help but recall the feeling he had just experienced.

It was a mysterious state that was difficult to describe.

It was as if something gently lifted his consciousness and led him into another world.

The feeling of being lifted was extremely light and gentle, like a mother's hand cradling a baby's head.

Yet it was extremely steady and certain, as if it had been waiting there since time immemorial, just waiting for him to come.

That world was shrouded in mist.

The white fog stretched endlessly.

It wasn't the kind of fog so thick it couldn't be dispersed, but rather the kind of fog as light as gauze, yet omnipresent.

It allows you to see a few steps ahead, but you can never see what lies hidden further away.

This is exactly what the interior scene looks like when it first appears.

The Huangting Jing says, "Just think of this one book and your life will be endless; the true person is within yourself, so don't ask your neighbor."

The mist within that inner realm is the final barrier between the real person and oneself.

Only those who can pass through the fog can see the real person; those who cannot can only wander outside the fog.

Wugensheng wanted to move forward, to push aside the fog, and to see what was hidden behind it.

But before Wugensheng could even take a step—

The force that supported him then sent him out again.

The feeling of sending it out was equally gentle and equally resolute.

It's as if it's saying: The time isn't right yet, wait a little longer.

Wugensheng tried to enter that state again.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall the feeling he had just experienced, and trying to return to that mysterious state.

But no matter how hard they tried, they could never return to that fog.

That door opened, then closed.

Wugensheng stood outside the door, helplessly staring at the tightly closed door.

The Tao Te Ching says, "When you face it, you cannot see its head; when you follow it, you cannot see its tail."

That is the gate to the inner world.

When it comes, it comes unbidden; when it leaves, you cannot force it to stay.

To be able to enter is a matter of opportunity; to be able to enter again is a matter of skill.

Wugensheng stood still, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

a long time.

Wugensheng shook his head slightly and said softly, "Perhaps... this is the reason why Daoist Liyuan guided me here."

There was a hint of helplessness in that voice, but also a hint of understanding.

"But right now, I'm clearly not good enough to solve the puzzle here."

He took a deep breath, suppressing the confusion and resentment in his heart.

The confusion remains, the resentment remains.

But Wugensheng suppressed them all, burying them in a corner of his heart, waiting to unearth them later.

Then, Wugensheng took a step.

I stepped into the cave.

The space inside the cave is much larger than it appears at the entrance.

The dome is extremely high, and the glowing crystals embedded in it illuminate the entire cave as bright as day, yet with an incredibly soft glow.

The light didn't shine directly down; instead, it permeated the entire space, omnipresent yet seemingly without origin.

The Yunji Qiqian states: "Light is the essence of nature."

The light of that crystal was not ordinary light, but something deeper—the spiritual light left by our predecessors, the afterglow of their accumulated spiritual cultivation.

It was the moment of enlightenment that Master Ziyang experienced, and that inspiration was forever sealed on this stone wall.

But what is most striking are those stone walls.

On the stone wall to the left are carvings.

These were the paintings that had just captured Wugensheng's mind.

Looking at it up close now, the lines are even clearer and more vivid.

Each stroke seems to contain some indescribable power, making one want to look at it more and more.

That power was not oppression or intimidation, but a profound attraction—like a deep pool drawing people to look down, like an abyss drawing people to go in.

That is the attraction of the Tao.

The Book of Changes says: "The alternation of yin and yang is called the Way; that which continues it is good; that which completes it is nature."

The engraving contains the principles of Yin and Yang.

It does not teach people with words, but shows them with lines; it does not enlighten people with knowledge, but moves them with feelings.

Wugensheng forced himself to look away and turn to his right.

He didn't know why he was forcing himself.

I just instinctively felt that if I kept watching, I would be drawn back into that fog.

On the right-hand stone wall, lines of text are densely carved.

The characters are vigorous and ancient, each stroke penetrating the stone wall as if they were not carved on, but grew out of the stone wall itself.

There is an indescribable vitality in those strokes, as if those words are not dead, but alive—they are breathing, pulsating, waiting for someone to read them.

Wugensheng took a few steps closer and looked up.

Those were poems.

Every word is precious, every sentence profound.

"To learn immortality, one must learn from celestial immortals; only the Golden Elixir is the true path."

"When two things meet, their natures and emotions align; when all five elements are present, tigers and dragons coil together."

"Originally, it was because of the matchmaker Wu and Ji that the couple were betrothed, thus enabling them to unite in joy."

"Waiting for success to be achieved before heading to the northern palace, riding a lucky phoenix amidst the nine-colored clouds."

Wugensheng recited the first poem in a low voice, his brows furrowing slightly.

The sound echoed in the cave, soft and hollow, like another version of myself reciting.

"Golden Elixir...two things...five elements...husband and wife..."

He murmured these words repeatedly, a thoughtful look flashing in his eyes.

"Is this about alchemy?"

Wugensheng paused, then shook his head.

"But this pill doesn't seem to be a pill in the ordinary sense..."

He recognized every single one of those words.

But when put together, he didn't understand at all.

What is the Golden Elixir?

What are these two things?

What does it mean to have all five elements present?

What exactly is the Tiger-Dragon Coil?

Wugensheng shook his head and continued reading.

"This method is truly wonderful, and it is all because I am different from others."

"Knowing that the upside-down situation arises from the trigrams Li and Kan, who can discern the true nature of the floating and sinking, the master and the guest?"

"The golden cauldron desires to retain the cinnabar mercury, while the jade pool first releases the silver from the water."

"The divine skill of manipulating fire does not last forever; it reveals the moon in the deep pool."

"Inverted...Li Kan...Floating and sinking...Main and guest..."

Wugensheng pondered these words, finding them increasingly profound with each chew.

That profundity is not obscure, but infinite—as if behind every word lies a world, within every character lies a realm.

The "Wuzhen Pian" was written by the True Man Ziyang and is the general outline of Daoist alchemy.

His poems use imagery to express the Way and metaphors to illustrate principles.

The Golden Elixir is neither gold nor elixir, but the result of cultivating both nature and life; the two things are neither objects nor tools, but the mechanism of the interaction of Yin and Yang.

The Five Elements are not metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, but rather the Qi of the five internal organs, the symbols of the five directions, and the order of the five seasons.

Husband and wife are not merely a union of men and women, but a union of spirits and the harmony of water and fire.

The Master Ziyang once said: "Even if you are more intelligent than Yan Hui and Min Ziqian, do not presume to guess your worth without a true master."

This is not a deliberate attempt to mystify, but rather the subtlety of the Dao of Alchemy, which cannot be fully expressed in words or understood by cleverness.

It requires instruction from a teacher, self-realization, daily accumulation, and natural progression.

"What exactly does this say?"

Wugensheng muttered to himself, his voice full of confusion.

The confusion was stronger and deeper than before.

He continued reading.

"Yellow buds and white snow are not hard to find, but those who achieve success must rely on profound virtue."

"The Four Symbols and Five Elements all rely on Earth, and the Three Elements and Eight Trigrams cannot be separated from Ren."

"Once refined into a spiritual treasure, it is extremely difficult to recognize; once refined, it can completely eliminate evil spirits and demons from invading."

"I wish to leave behind the secrets of life, but I have not found a single kindred spirit."

When he reached the last line, Wugensheng suddenly stopped.

"I have never met a single true friend..."

He repeated the sentence in a low voice, a complex look flashing in his eyes.

His expression held confusion, melancholy, and something else indescribable, as if something deep within his heart had been gently touched.

That was a lonely echo.

Master Ziyang wrote this "Wuzhen Pian" in his later years, not to pass on his name to posterity, nor to flaunt his own views.

Instead, he condensed his life's insights into these eighty-one poems, which he then hid in famous mountains, awaiting future generations.

In his preface, he wrote: "Now that I have encountered the true teachings, how can I bear to remain aloof? Therefore, I have devoted all my knowledge to this book and share it with my fellow believers."

But where are the "comrades"?

Who is this "soulmate"?

The phrase "Never having met a true friend" perfectly encapsulates the loneliness of countless seekers of truth.

Although Wugensheng did not understand alchemy, he understood this loneliness.

He suddenly understood.

The person who wrote these poems must have been an extremely lonely person.

That kind of loneliness isn't the loneliness of having no one to accompany you, but the loneliness of having no one to understand you.

He inscribed his life's wisdom on the rock face deep in the mountains.

Waiting for someone to understand it.

He's waiting for someone to become his soulmate.

However, what awaited them was disappointment after disappointment.

Of those who enter this cave, how many can truly understand these poems?

How many people can truly understand the painstaking effort and tears hidden behind these words?

"I have never met a single true friend..."

Wugensheng murmured.

The sound echoed in the cave, soft and hollow.

What was the owner of this cave thinking when he carved these poems on the stone wall?

No one answered him.

Only those poems, quietly etched on the stone wall, await the next person to understand them.

That wait has lasted for hundreds of years.

We'll have to wait several hundred more years.

Wugensheng stood there, gazing at the lines of poetry, motionless for a long time.

Unbeknownst to him, these poems were the Daoist classic "Wuzhen Pian" written by Zhang Boduan, the Master Ziyang.

This masterpiece encompasses all the knowledge and learning of Master Ziyang throughout his life.

It provides a comprehensive explanation of the Taoist Golden Elixir Way.

It reveals all the secrets of cultivation.

It reveals all the methods to become an immortal.

It was something he painstakingly crafted, word by word, through a lifetime of failures and epiphanies, with blood and tears.

Ziyang Zhen's life was full of hardships and difficulties.

He was once a government official who was punished for accidentally burning documents; he once met a strange man who taught him the true secrets of the Golden Elixir and thus attained enlightenment.

He was betrayed three times and suffered three calamities, but finally he realized the principle that "after attaining enlightenment, one must widely spread virtue."

His loneliness is the loneliness of a seeker of truth; his waiting is the waiting of a preacher of truth.

As Wugensheng looked at these poems, his brows furrowed deeper and deeper.

Although he had some schooling and could read, he didn't understand the terms "golden elixir," "Kanli," and "golden cauldron" mentioned in the poem.

"Jade Pond" -

Wugensheng couldn't understand a single word.

Completely incomprehensible.

Those are Taoist terms, cultivation mantras, things that only true practitioners can understand.

Wugensheng is just a greenhorn who has only been in the world of supernatural beings for a few years. He hasn't even practiced proper Qi, so how could he understand these things?

Wugensheng stood there, gazing at the poems and inscriptions covering the walls, and suddenly felt somewhat dazed.

He thought of Riyuan Daozi.

That figure in the moon-white Taoist robe, those gentle, watery eyes.

It reminded me of the song "Rootless Tree".

He remembered what Michiko had said to him.

"The road is there; whether you go or not is your own business."

Whether you can find the answer or not is up to you.

Wugensheng suddenly laughed.

That smile contained helplessness, relief, and something else that was hard to define.

"I see..

he murmured.

"So you brought me here not so I could find the answer now."