Chapter Seventeen: Taboos

Lu Chenyuan carried the pouch of Autumn Dew Wine and returned to the inn with Shangguan Chuci. As they walked toward a fork in the road, the lights grew denser, and stalls selling trinkets for young ladies began to appear around them.

There were lifelike clay figurines, revolving lanterns painted with tales of scholars and beauties, and translucent kirins and phoenixes fashioned from malt sugar.

Shangguan Chuci had been walking straight ahead, eyes unwavering, but her peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of a string of glass beads threaded with fine silver wire. Under the lantern’s glow, they shimmered beautifully, and her steps involuntarily slowed.

For a fleeting instant, her eyes—usually brimming with mischief and calculation—revealed a rare, unguarded joy. This innocent expression vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Seemingly startled to recall someone was at her side, she cleared her throat hastily, suppressing the girlish manner that had surfaced. Her face resumed its composed, refined demeanor, though the fan she held now fluttered half a beat faster, betraying a touch of agitation.

Lu Chenyuan noticed all of this, and something stirred within him. He couldn’t help but take a few more glances at Shangguan Chuci’s exquisitely handsome face.

Beneath the lanterns, her skin was fairer than snow, her features elegantly drawn, lacking any trace of the ruggedness typical of men.

He recalled the sensation when, in moments of urgency, he had twice grasped her wrist—a cool, silky softness, slippery and delicate, unlike the calloused hands of a martial artist.

He thought again of her clear, melodious voice. Though she deliberately lowered it, it lacked the deep resonance of a man…

A sudden thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

Could it be… she was actually a woman?

Shangguan Chuci was nothing if not perceptive. She instantly sensed the change in his gaze. Being scrutinized by him made her feel inexplicably uneasy, as if her greatest secret had been glimpsed by this young man.

“Brother Lu, you’re looking at me as though I have dust on my face.”

She snapped her folding fan shut, tapping it lightly against her palm, and changed the subject with a cheerful smile.

Seeing that Lu Chenyuan merely shook his head and kept silent, she went along with it and asked,

“Curious, isn’t it? Though you haven’t entered the world of cultivation, you seem to know very little about its workings. Just now, for instance, when I mentioned ‘Dao’s Fall,’ you seemed to be hearing it for the first time. Strange, indeed.”

She mused inwardly, “His master, Situ, is unfathomable and acts with great subtlety. Why, then, would he withhold even such basic knowledge of cultivation?”

“If Lu Chenyuan truly is the fated one from the tales, does he harbor some great secret, so much so that his path to cultivation was forcibly severed?”

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Upon this thought, her gaze toward Lu Chenyuan deepened.

“Brother Lu,”

Her tone was gentle, coaxing, “Since we are confidants, I shall not hide this from you. There’s a saying in the world of cultivation: ‘Seeking the Dao through Nine Heavens.’ These are nine barriers along the path, nine realms of heaven and earth.”

Lu Chenyuan, drawn by her turn to serious matters, listened intently.

“These Nine Heavens, from lowest to highest, are: Hearing the Dao, Establishing the Heart, Grasping the Fire, Illuminating the Spirit, Viewing the Waters, Returning to the Void, Transforming the Vessel, Landing Ashore, Seeking the Dao.”

“The first stage, ‘Hearing the Dao,’ is the threshold for cultivators. To sense even a wisp of spiritual energy within heaven and earth is to enter the gate. Yet, with the world’s spiritual energy depleted, only those with extraordinary talent can take this step. Hence, the saying, ‘To hear the Dao in the morning, to die by evening is enough,’ speaks to its difficulty.”

“The second stage, ‘Establishing the Heart,’ requires the cultivator to draw spiritual energy into the body, forming the foundation of the Dao heart. From then on, the body surpasses ordinary folk; one could go days without eating and not feel hunger.”

“But from that point on, the murmurings of the corrupt flow—like whispers from the netherworld—begin to invade the mind. Yet, there is still a path back; if one relinquishes their cultivation at this stage, though severely weakened, one can return to mortal life.”

“As for the third stage, ‘Grasping the Fire’—”

Shangguan Chuci’s expression grew more solemn.

“Cultivators must be cautious before grasping the heart’s fire. Once you do, it marks the divide between immortals and mortals; there’s no turning back!”

“At this stage, one can scale rooftops and walk walls, far outstripping any martial artist. More importantly, the cultivator uses their Dao foundation as fuel to kindle a flame within. Once lit, it reveals a glimpse of the deep abyss of the corrupt flow.”

She paused, then continued,

“The stage of ‘Establishing the Heart’ depends on one’s intent. One may base it on humanity, compassion for all beings, or reverence for heaven and earth.”

“The Dao has no hierarchy, nor is one method superior to another. All depends on sincerity and the landscape of one’s heart, which shapes countless inner worlds.”

“But when it comes to ‘Grasping the Fire,’ there are distinctions. The fire of the unfortunate cultivator who suffered Dao’s Fall earlier was most likely ordinary mortal fire. Above mortal fire are true fire, spiritual fire, and—”

“And what else?” Lu Chenyuan prompted instinctively.

Shangguan Chuci’s lips curled into a sly smile. She spread her hands, replying leisurely,

“That is another secret. Unless… Brother Lu is willing to trade one of his own.”

Lu Chenyuan stiffened at her words, but his face betrayed nothing. He replied coolly,

“I’m merely an inn laborer. What secrets could I possibly have worth exchanging, Master Chuci?”

He thought to himself, “His every word circles back to my cultivation, seemingly concerned but subtly probing my relationship with my master. If I keep dodging, I’ll lose the initiative and appear evasive…”

You wish to probe my depths? Then I shall gauge yours in turn!

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With that thought, Lu Chenyuan seemed to recall something offhand and asked,

“Master Chuci, you are well-traveled and knowledgeable. There’s something I don’t understand. My master often says that cultivation, in the end, is about severing the seven emotions and six desires—becoming a heartless immortal.”

“But in all I’ve heard and seen, I’ve never encountered such a teaching. Instead, those who fall usually become mad monsters like the one before.”

At his words, the smile on Shangguan Chuci’s face froze.

Her usually lively and cunning eyes lost all trace of humor and composure, filled only with unprecedented gravity.

Seeing her expression, Lu Chenyuan felt as though the surrounding bustle receded into nothingness. The world was reduced to just the two of them, so quiet he could hear their breathing and heartbeats.

Shangguan Chuci glanced around, confirming no one was paying them any mind, and finally let out a breath.

Then she looked at Lu Chenyuan and, in a tone more serious than ever, said slowly,

“Brother Lu, the words you just spoke—never repeat them to anyone from this day forward!”

Lu Chenyuan was shaken to his core. He realized that his seemingly casual question had touched upon something deeply forbidden.

He heard Shangguan Chuci take a deep breath and say,

“I can stake my reputation on this: I have never heard that saying before, nor has it ever appeared in any orthodox texts.”

“Your master’s words, compared to secrets, seem more like…”

Shangguan Chuci’s gaze was impossibly complex as she looked at Lu Chenyuan.

At last, in a voice barely above a whisper, she concluded,

“A taboo.”