The Three Teachings Converge into One: The Path of the Mortal and the Saintly is the Same

Poetry:

A lone boat moored at night in the heart of the great river, the wind whipping up cold waves amidst deep, dark fog.

A Confucian heart connects heaven and earth, and ancestral spirits secretly protect the young man's body.

Su Qingxuan bid farewell to the people of Anling Town, shouldered his bag, still wearing his blue robe, and headed north along the ancient road, determined to reach the Qingxu Temple on Langya Mountain. It was the height of summer in the fourth year of the Jinghe era. The Huainan region, cleansed by the past floods, was experiencing a resurgence of warmth and vitality, fueled by the oppressive heat, and all things flourished. Along the roadside, dense trees provided ample shade, and tender willows drooped like mist, their soft branches swaying and creating gentle breezes. In the fields, the muddy waters had all flowed into the rivers, and the early rice was growing tall and heading, its green waves surging to the horizon. Farmers, hoe in hand and oxen at the ready, tended the fields and fertilized them in the summer morning light. Wisps of smoke curled from chimneys, mingling with the verdant mist, while the barking of dogs and crowing of roosters blended harmoniously—a scene of peaceful vitality, a testament to post-disaster recovery and the harvest season. As the young man traveled, witnessing the gradual improvement in people's lives, his conviction grew stronger—the Confucian scholar's role in saving the world was not about grand, earth-shattering feats, but about safeguarding the peace and order of humanity through acts of kindness and compassion.

He walked with a steady, unhurried pace. The scorching summer sun beat down, the heat burning his skin. Though his blue robe was soaked with sweat and clung to his body, the righteous energy within his dantian flowed ceaselessly with each breath. His entire being was upright and peaceful. Even walking along desolate paths, he felt no restlessness or scorching heat, only the refreshing air of heaven and earth entering his embrace, dispelling all his anxieties. The three ancestral artifacts of the Su family lay close to his body, the small bronze seal cool against his chest like a piece of pure jade dispelling the heat; the withered trees were silent and still, seemingly containing the pure spirit of eternity; only the incomplete Confucian classics were frequently taken out and studied under the ancient locust tree by the roadside. The once obscure and difficult principles, after several trials during flood relief and exorcising evil spirits from ancient wells, had become increasingly clear and harmonious, as if every word and phrase could resonate with his own heart and mind.

As evening approached, the lingering heat of the summer sun remained unabated. Across the road lay a vast, turbulent river, a tributary of the Huai River. Due to the summer floods, the river was several meters wider than usual, its muddy waves crashing against the banks. There was no bridge to cross; only a few ferryboats were moored under the shade of trees at the ferry crossing, ferrying people back and forth. Su Qingxuan looked up and saw the setting sun sinking behind the western mountains, painting the sky a molten gold. Twilight enveloped the remaining heat, and the ferry crossing was sparsely populated, the sounds of carriages and horses ceasing. If he didn't board a boat immediately, he would have to spend the night in the wilderness, plagued by summer mosquitoes. He hurried towards the ferry crossing and saw an old boatman with white hair and beard. He bowed respectfully and said, "Old sir, I wish to cross the river northwards. Would you be so kind as to ferry me across?"

The old boatman, surnamed Wang, was nearly sixty years old and had been ferrying people across the river for over forty years. Seeing the young man alone carrying his books, dressed in a blue robe, with a calm and gentle demeanor unlike that of an ordinary traveler, he immediately nodded and replied, "Young master, crossing the river is not difficult. However, due to the summer floods, the waves are stronger than usual, and the current is unpredictable. It is already late, and I fear it will be difficult to reach the shore immediately. We will need to anchor in the middle of the river tonight and wait until the wind and waves subside at dawn before crossing. Would you be willing, young master?"

After pondering for a moment, Su Qingxuan realized that there were no villages to rest in ahead, and the dew was heavy and insects were noisy in the wilderness on a summer night. Anchoring in the middle of the river was the only option. He immediately bowed and replied, "I will leave it to you, sir, and I will have no complaints."

The old boatman untied the mooring rope and poled the boat, the bamboo pole touching the bank, and the black-awning boat slowly moved away from the ferry, cutting through the shimmering golden waves towards the center of the river. As dusk deepened, the last rays of the golden sunset sank into the water, and a thin mist suddenly rose over the river, like smoke or gauze, enveloping the ferry in the summer night's moisture. All around, the water murmured, summer insects chirped, and all was quiet except for the gentle sound of the oars gliding across the open river, the heat dissipating, leaving only a refreshing coolness.

When the boat reached a certain point in the middle of the river, the old boatman put away his pole and stopped rowing, mooring the boat in still water. He sighed and said, "The river is cold and foggy at night, and the water conditions are unpredictable during the flood season. Young master, please stay in the cabin and do not go out unnecessarily. The Huai River is never peaceful at night."

Su Qingxuan followed instructions and entered the cabin. The cabin was small but clean, with an oil lamp in the corner, its dim light casting a soft, yellow glow. He sat cross-legged on a futon in the cabin, took out the incomplete scroll of the Confucian sect's mental cultivation method from his bosom, and studied it carefully by the light of the lamp.

In the past, when I studied this scroll, I gained much insight into self-cultivation, inner peace, and the principles of moderation and serving the world. I gradually progressed in the methods of "sincere intention and righteous mind" and "cultivating a righteous spirit." Today, upon rereading it, my gaze fell upon a few mottled and incomplete characters, and a strange feeling arose in my heart. Those few fragmented sentences were completely different from the common doctrines of moderation and righteous spirit found in the *Doctrine of the Mean* and *Mencius*. The sentences were broken and discontinuous, yet they contained a different kind of profound meaning:

"Heaven and earth possess righteous energy, which manifests in various forms. When the heart communicates with heaven and the energy unites with earth, it becomes vast and abundant, capable of suppressing turbidity and pacifying evil..."

"The Confucian scholar's intention is not only to cultivate himself, but also to uphold the purity and spirit of heaven and earth, ward off evil spirits, and protect all living beings. This is the fundamental purpose of ancient Confucian cultivation..."

Ordinary Confucian classics speak of the interaction between Heaven and humanity, emphasizing following the will of Heaven and responding to the needs of humanity, cultivating oneself in accordance with the Way, influencing Heaven and Earth with virtue, and bringing peace to all living beings with benevolence. They never explicitly mention using righteous energy to suppress evil spirits. This fragmentary text is clearly a secret cultivation manual of ancient Confucian practitioners, directly pointing to the core of "using the righteous energy of Heaven and Earth to suppress evil influences." However, due to the incompleteness of the scroll and the discontinuous nature of the text, many key methods are hidden between the ink marks, making it difficult to fully comprehend.

Su Qingxuan's fingertips traced the yellowed pages of the book. He recalled the eerie fragment at the bottom of the well in Anling Town, and the sorrow and rejection conveyed by the withered wood. He thought to himself: In this world, besides the hardships of human life and the fickleness of human relationships, there are also turbid and evil things that disturb people's lives and disturb people's hearts. Confucian scholars cultivate their noble spirit not only to cultivate themselves and help the world, but also to suppress evil and bring peace to spirits. However, this principle is hidden in the tattered scrolls, and it is difficult for those who have not experienced the tribulations of the mortal world and witnessed strange events to understand it.

As he pondered deeply, trying to deduce more profound meaning from the fragmented text, a sudden gale arose outside the boat, howling across the river and sweeping away the coolness of the summer night. Waves surged abruptly, crashing against the boat like small mountains with deafening bangs. The awning boat rocked violently, the oil lamp inside flickered and shattered, and it nearly capsized.

"Oh no! It's a vortex!"

The old boatman's startled cry came from the bow of the boat, filled with panic: "This whirlpool is notoriously ominous; it often surges in when the night fog rises suddenly, causing many passing ships to capsize. This summer, with the floods so severe, how could it arrive so suddenly!"

Su Qingxuan's heart tightened, and he rushed out of the cabin. In the middle of the river, a massive whirlpool had suddenly appeared, its turbid waves swirling like ink, a chilling wind blowing, a stark contrast to the cool summer night just moments before. The fog grew thicker, carrying a gloomy and cold aura that assaulted their senses. The ferry was tossed about by the waves, spinning endlessly, its planks creaking, threatening to be swept into the whirlpool at any moment, risking destruction and loss of life.

Just then, Su Qingxuan felt a sudden heat in his arms. The ancestral bronze seal seemed to possess a spirit, and the heat penetrated through his clothes and directly into his skin. The ancestral withered wood placed close to his body also trembled slightly, and a wisp of pure spiritual energy emanated from the wood, quietly merging with the righteous energy in his dantian, forming a warm and vast power.

Without thinking, he instinctively reached into his robe, grasped the warm bronze seal, and quickly walked to the bow of the ship, gently pressing the seal onto the deck.

Strange things happen in an instant.

The moment the bronze seal touched the bow of the boat, a warm, upright, and peaceful aura emanated from it, like the warm sun breaking through the fog, like a clear spring washing away turbidity, instantly enveloping the entire ferry. The surging waves gradually subsided, the swirling eddies slowly dissipated, the biting wind vanished, and the thick fog on the river surface gradually thinned. In just a moment, the river returned to calm, with only gentle ripples on the water. The bright summer moon pierced through the clouds, casting its clear light over thousands of miles, illuminating the shimmering surface of the water, as if the raging storm and towering waves had been nothing more than a dream.

The old boatman stared in disbelief, gripping the gunwale, his legs trembling slightly. He was speechless for a long time before finally muttering to himself, his voice filled with awe: "Young master... young master must possess the righteous energy of heaven and earth, even suppressing the evil spirits in the heart of this river... I have been rowing this boat for forty years, experiencing countless floods, and I have never seen such a strange thing..."

Su Qingxuan withdrew his hand from the bow of the boat. The bronze seal had returned to its cool and calm state. He understood that this was the spirit of the ancestral artifact, which had used its own righteous energy to suppress the turbidity in the river's heart. However, it was unwilling to reveal the secret of the ancestral artifact, and simply nodded slightly, saying, "Old man, you flatter me. I have only learned some superficial techniques to rely on, and it was just a fluke."

The old boatman refused to believe it, his gaze towards the boy now filled with respect. He said no more, silently guarding the bow of the boat, and the night passed uneventfully. Su Qingxuan returned to his cabin, sat quietly to regulate his breathing, and compared the strange phenomena he had just witnessed with the fragmented cultivation manual. He understood more and more the connection between his family heirloom and his own cultivation. However, the time was not yet ripe, and many secrets still needed to be explored slowly.

The next morning, the wind was calm, the fog dissipated, and the summer sun rose, casting a golden glow on the river. The old boatman poled the boat across, successfully taking Su Qingxuan to the other side. Su Qingxuan bid farewell to the old boatman, stepped onto the north bank, and continued northward along the path. His figure in the blue robe disappeared into the morning mist and the sunlight. The strange phenomenon in the heart of the Huai River became a secret unknown to anyone, seemingly hinting at something—what secrets did the ancestral artifact hold?

Traveling day and night without delay, Su Qingxuan passed through a small town called Pingchang Town. Located along the ancient Huai-Si Road, this town should have been a bustling settlement with a constant flow of people and carriages. However, as soon as he entered the town, he felt a heavy and oppressive atmosphere wash over him. Mixed with the summer heat, it was different from the eerie and pernicious atmosphere of Anling Town, yet it was equally unsettling.

The town's streets and alleys were desolate, doors tightly shut. The cicadas' mournful chirping filled the air in the sweltering summer heat. Those who ventured out were pale and sickly, their lips dry and parched, coughing and wheezing incessantly. The heat and humidity exacerbated their weakness, making their steps unsteady as if walking on cotton wool. Everywhere, in the streets and alleys, one could see sick people lying on mats under the eaves or on earthen beds inside houses, their groans and coughs mingling with the rising heat, creating a scene of utter desolation. At the pharmacy at the town's entrance, a long queue stretched out, but few herbs were available. The doctor sitting in the clinic frequently wiped his sweat and shook his head, his face showing distress, clearly helpless against this summer epidemic.

Su Qingxuan paused to examine the situation closely, his fingertips lightly probing the energy of heaven and earth, and he understood immediately. The affliction in this town was not the kind of evil plague caused by foreign objects contaminating the water, as seen in Anling Town. Rather, it was a febrile epidemic caused by the imbalance of the summer's energy, the accumulation of damp heat, and the invasion of summer evil. The patients were mostly suffering from fever, cough, and wheezing, and their vital energy was deficient. This was related to the imbalance of the energy of heaven and earth in the four seasons and the entanglement of summer dampness and turbidity, and was not caused by evil spirits.

From a young age, he studied Confucian classics with his father, Su Wenyuan, and also delved into the principles of health preservation and medicine in the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic. He deeply understood the principle that "when righteous qi is stored within, evil cannot invade." He also learned about many herbs that could relieve summer heat and dampness in the countryside of Jiangnan. He immediately decided to stay in the town and use his knowledge to treat the people.

Su Qingxuan found the doctor sitting in the town, cupped his hands and bowed, saying, "Sir, I have some knowledge of medicine and health preservation. I am willing to work with you to treat patients and fight the epidemic."

The doctor, surnamed Zhao, was nearly fifty years old and had practiced medicine for half his life. He had some doubts about the young boy, but seeing his calm demeanor and earnest words, he readily agreed despite his reservations. The two discussed the matter together, and Su Qingxuan, following the principles of "draining damp heat, protecting vital energy, and clearing away summer heat" from the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic, helped Dr. Zhao gather herbs such as honeysuckle, forsythia, isatis root, agastache, mint, and eupatorium. They set up a pot in the town's open threshing ground to boil the herbs and distributed them to the patients. Su Qingxuan also taught the townspeople methods of regulating their breathing and nourishing their qi, protecting their vital energy in their dantian, opening windows for ventilation, cleaning themselves to avoid filth, and seeking coolness in the summer heat, all to resist the invasion of summer heat and epidemics through health preservation methods.

The young boy tirelessly traversed the town's streets and alleys day and night. Under the scorching summer sun, his blue shirt was soaked with sweat, and beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead, yet he still examined the pulses of the sick, distributed herbs, and fed the elderly and weak. He showed no childish arrogance, nor any sign of boredom or slackness. The townspeople, seeing his young age yet kind heart and dedication to helping others despite the sweltering heat, were deeply grateful and called him a "little gentleman" and a "living bodhisattva."

The epidemic in the town was caused by the heat and dampness of midsummer, and was not an incurable disease. It was only because of the lack of medical care and medicine, and the fact that the people did not know how to maintain health and avoid the heat, that it spread. After Su Qingxuan and Doctor Zhao worked together to treat the patients, within two days, the mild cases gradually stopped coughing and wheezing and their spirits gradually recovered, while the severe cases also saw their fever subside and their pain lessen. The atmosphere of panic in the town gradually dissipated, and the aroma of cooking and the fragrance of lotus flowers in midsummer once again filled the streets and alleys.

That night, the bright summer moon shone like water, its gentle light bathing the streets and alleys of Pingchang Town, dispelling the daytime heat. Su Qingxuan, having toiled all day, was looking for a place to rest when he came to a dilapidated house in the west of town. Suddenly, he heard a faint groan coming from inside. He stopped to look closely and saw that the house was simply furnished, with drafty walls. An old woman with graying hair lay on an earthen bed, barely breathing, her face flushed, coughing and wheezing incessantly. She was on the verge of death, her life hanging by a thread.

Seeing the old woman's condition, it was clear she was utterly alone, without children or relatives. Only an elderly neighbor woman kept her company, weeping by her bedside. Upon seeing Su Qingxuan stop outside the door, the old woman quickly rose, went to the door, and choked out, "Young master, my old sister is beyond help; she won't make it through the night and can only suffer this pain..."

Looking at the old woman's contorted and painful appearance, Su Qingxuan felt a surge of Confucian benevolence that had been ingrained in his heart since childhood. He also recalled the Zen principle of "compassionate salvation" spoken by the old monk on the rainy night, and the sacred teaching of "respecting the elderly as one would one's own parents" echoed in his ears. He knew that the old woman's time had come and that there was nothing he could do to change it. He only wished that she would suffer less and pass away peacefully.

He slowly walked to the bedside and took out the ancestral piece of withered wood from his robes. The wood was warm and smooth, with fine grain, and usually quiet and unassuming, but now, held in the young man's hands, it faintly emitted a faint glow. Su Qingxuan lowered his eyes, stood before the bed, silently reciting the Confucian virtues of benevolence and compassion, praying that the old woman's soul would find peace and be free from suffering.

Just then, the seemingly dry and unremarkable ancient deadwood slowly emitted a faint warmth, gentle and mild, like the warm sun in spring or the cool breeze on a summer night, gently enveloping the old woman and washing away all the summer heat and stagnation in the room.

The old woman's face, which had been contorted in pain, gradually relaxed. Her coughing stopped abruptly, her eyes closed slightly, her expression peaceful, with a serene smile. She passed away peacefully, without any struggle or pain.

Just then, Physician Zhao arrived and was greatly surprised to see this. He quickly stepped forward, stared at the withered wood in Su Qingxuan's hand, and exclaimed with clasped hands, "Young Master! What kind of extraordinary wood is this? It has the effect of calming the mind and protecting the spirit! I have practiced medicine for half my life and seen countless rare flowers and herbs, but I have never seen such a spiritual plant. It seems to be protected by the blessings of my ancestors, able to soothe the soul and spirit!"

Su Qingxuan gently stroked the withered wood, the warmth gradually fading as it returned to its calm state. He knew this was the spiritual energy left behind by his ancestors, secretly protecting living beings, but he was unwilling to elaborate on its origin, only saying gently, "Sir, you flatter me. This is an old family heirloom left by my ancestors. I don't know the details, but I merely use its gentle energy to soothe people's minds."

Dr. Zhao repeatedly exclaimed in admiration, saying that this wood must be an ancient treasure, imbued with the virtues of one's ancestors, to have such a calming effect on the soul. Su Qingxuan helped the elderly neighbor with the funeral arrangements for the old woman, buying a coffin, placing her in the coffin, and finding a burial site. Once everything was settled, knowing that the epidemic in Pingchang Town had subsided and the people were safe, he did not linger any longer.

Seven days later, at dawn, before the summer heat had fully set in, Su Qingxuan bid farewell to the townspeople and Dr. Zhao, shouldered his bag, and once again embarked on his journey north to Qingxu Temple on Langya Mountain. The bronze seal, the ancient withered tree, and the fragments of the Confucian classics lay intertwined in his bosom, their spiritual energy subtly merging. The young man's Confucian heart remained steadfast, his benevolence boundless. Having experienced the bronze seal calming the river's waves and the spiritual tree soothing the soul in the plague-stricken land, his understanding of the shared origins of the three religions and the spirituality of ancestral artifacts deepened once more.

The road ahead is long and the landscape vast. In the lush summer, the silhouette of Qingxu Temple is already faintly visible. A journey to explore the profound principles of Taoism and seek the unity of the three religions is about to begin.

It is:

The boat sails through the waves, relying on the spirit of the gods; in the plague-stricken land, the ancient trees offer their benevolence.

A touch of Confucianism connects with the workings of nature; ancestral spirits secretly protect the heart of a young person.