Taoist priest goes to America

Ang Lee walked to the shop entrance and called out, "Old Chen, what are you doing? What are you cooking?"

Upon hearing this sound, Chen Houde quickly stopped what he was doing, put the palm-leaf fan aside, wiped his hands on his apron, and hurried to the shop entrance. He then dragged a folding chair out from behind the door, unfolded it, and placed it in front of Li An.

"Handsome guy, you're here. Have a seat." His tone was quick and attentive, showing he dared not neglect Li An.

After moving the chairs, Chen Houde glanced back at the medicine pot on the charcoal stove to make sure it wasn't overcooked. He then turned back to Li An and gave him a forced smile. "Just a moment, this stuff in the pot will be ready in about ten minutes, soon, very soon."

Ang Lee didn't sit down; he stood at the door and peered into the store.

"Old Chen, what are you busy with? I need to talk to you, how long will it take?"

At this, Chen Houde's old face immediately wrinkled, his expression full of bitterness. He sighed, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his apron, and his voice was full of helplessness.

"Almost there, almost there, just a little longer." He walked back to the charcoal stove, picked up the palm-leaf fan again, and explained while stirring the pot, "Young man, I'm making rice oil. It's the thickest layer of broth on top of rice porridge, which turns a bright yellow color when cooked, just like oil."

"What are you going to do with the rice oil?" Li An asked.

Chen Houde's face grew even more bitter. He used bamboo chopsticks to lift a layer of thick yellow soup from the pot, watching it slowly flow back into the pot from the tips of the chopsticks, and began to complain bitterly.

"It's because of my daughter-in-law. I don't know what's wrong with her lately, she's started to convert to a religion."

"The church told her that children don't need to eat meat, eggs, or milk; they can grow tall and strong just by drinking rice and oil."

"They say this is some kind of 'ancient method,' the wisdom passed down from our ancestors, which avoids killing and adds to the sins of killing, and is best for children."

"She believed it without question, and when she came back, she really cut off her granddaughter's other nutrition, only giving her rice and oil to drink." Chen Houde stuck his chopsticks into the pot, his tone becoming increasingly agitated. "That little baby, how old is she? What kind of nutrition can she get from just drinking rice and oil?"

"I told her that this wouldn't work, but she said I didn't understand. She said the doctor in the cult said that rice gruel is the essence of the five grains and is more nourishing than anything else."

"I don't understand? I've lived for over sixty years, and I'm a well-informed paper craftsman. When have I ever seen someone grow up on rice and oil?"

"Now my son has also been dragged to attend that cult's morning meetings. She says he has to go every morning, otherwise he's not devout, and if he's not devout, the gods won't bless him."

"The two of them left early this morning, leaving the child to me, an old man, to take care of." He turned around and picked up an opened can of imported milk powder from the small table next to him.

"I really couldn't bear to let my granddaughter only drink rice gruel, so when they weren't around, I secretly added some milk powder to it. After the rice gruel was cooked, I stirred the milk powder in, and it looked just like pure rice gruel, so they couldn't tell the difference."

"We can't just watch our children go hungry, can we? At least formula has protein and calcium, which is better than just giving them rice water."

Ang Lee was speechless. He recalled hearing similar absurd claims in his original world, such as babies not being able to drink formula and only rice water, vaccines being toxic and not being able to be given, and modern medicine being a Western medical scam.

I never imagined that these things could reappear in a different world and a different country, just with a different packaging.

"Who on earth is spreading the idea that children only need to drink rice water? What kind of religion is this? And what about the morning meetings and traditional doctors? Is this some kind of Zhong Yi cult?"

Chen Houde shook his head and fanned the charcoal fire twice more with the palm-leaf fan in his hand.

"It's not traditional Chinese medicine. They call themselves ancient medicine, what was it called again... Oh right, they said something about 'medicine without borders,' and that they would use ancient Eastern medical techniques combined with ancient Western medical techniques to treat people."

"In the East, there are things like the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic and Shennong's Materia Medica; in the West, there are things like Hippocrates and humoral theory from ancient Greece. They just put all these old relics together and say that this is the real medicine, while other modern medicines are just poison controlled by capital."

The old man stirred the pot again with bamboo chopsticks, and the yellow rice oil swirled in the pot. "This religion is a recent thing that has just emerged. It's spreading in our Chinese community and it's incredibly popular."

"The cult leader has a lot of titles, claims to be a practitioner of both Taoism and Buddhism, and says he is about to become an immortal."

"Taoism and Buddhism as one?" Li An raised an eyebrow slightly. Taoism and Buddhism have many incompatible doctrines, and nine times out of ten, people who claim to be "Taoism and Buddhism as one" are cult leaders.

"Yes, Taoism and Buddhism are one." Chen Houde put down his palm-leaf fan, took out an old smartphone from his pocket, clumsily swiped a few times on it with his finger, and then showed the screen to Li An.

"This is it, it's called Qingfan Sect." He said, swiping down the screen with his finger. "Look, this website is quite well-made, it has millions of followers online."

Ang Lee took the phone. The screen displayed the official website of the Qingfan Sect. At the top of the homepage was a line of large characters: "Qingfan Ancient Medicine: Taoism and Buddhism Share the Same Origin." The font resembled clerical script or Wei stele script, exuding a sense of solemnity amidst its antiquity.

The background is a landscape painting shrouded in mist, with a Taoist temple faintly visible on the mountaintop, next to which stands a Buddha statue. Several lines of religious slogans float on both sides of the page: "Medicine knows no borders, ancient methods save people," "Taoism and Buddhism are one, all methods return to the origin," and "A severed arm can regenerate, all diseases can be cured."

Scroll down further, and you'll see a picture of the cult leader.

He was a very young and handsome man, who looked to be no more than twenty-five or twenty-six years old. His features were distinct, with sword-like eyebrows that slanted upwards towards his temples, a high nose bridge, and thin lips that were slightly pursed. His entire face looked as if it had been exquisitely sculpted from jade.

What is most striking about him are his eyes, with clear, bright pupils and a deep amber color, like the half-open eyes of an ancient Buddha statue in a temple.

There was no restlessness or sharpness in those eyes, no joy or sorrow, only a tranquility that transcended the human world.

He seemed to have seen through everything and everyone, yet he still chose to gaze upon everything with compassionate eyes.

That was a natural quality that emerged after a long period of inner cultivation, like an ancient pool in the deep mountains that had remained still for a thousand years, its surface calm and undisturbed, its depths unfathomable.

The presence of such a gaze on such a young face created a strong sense of incongruity, as if a soul that had lived for a long time had taken up residence in a brand-new body.

His clothes were strange, forcibly sewing together elements of a kasaya and a Taoist robe.

The main garment is a blood-red kasaya, with cloud patterns and Bagua (Eight Trigrams) motifs commonly found on Taoist robes. Over this, a black gauze robe is worn, its short, flowing fabric revealing just the edges of the red kasaya underneath, creating a striking red and black contrast.

He leaned on a Zen staff in his right hand, the top of which was inlaid with a disc featuring a Tai Chi symbol. The Yin and Yang fish of the Tai Chi symbol were inlaid with black and white jade.

The staff simultaneously features the form of a Buddhist staff and the Tai Chi Bagua elements of Taoism, paired with a mixed outfit that is neither Buddhist nor Taoist, making the person look like a religious product that has been forcibly fused together.

Chen Houde swiped his finger across the screen again, flipping to the next page. "There's also this video; you'll understand once you watch it."

"His videos are still online, and many people have seen them."

The screen displayed a video page that had already garnered over a million views. In the video, the cult leader was standing on what appeared to be a podium, with a young man kneeling before him who had lost an arm.

He placed his hand on the young man's severed arm and muttered incantations. After about ten seconds, a blurry red light suddenly appeared on the young man's severed arm. The video quality was poor, so it was impossible to see what was happening in that red light.

Then a complete, brand-new arm slowly grew from the severed wound. The young man stood up, tears streaming down his face, waving his new arm, and gasps and applause erupted from the audience.

Ang Lee stared at the screen for a long time.

This might not be magic. He was thinking of Yuzu, whose head was smashed but could reassemble itself and be lifted up and put back on her neck.

If she were a superhuman with healing abilities like hers, she could easily perform an identical "arm regeneration" act.

The combination of Taoism and Buddhism, the promise of becoming an immortal, and the ability to perform magic that allows severed arms to grow back—these terms, when put together, don't resemble a legitimate religion at all; they look exactly like a cult.