Chapter 24 Mount Panku, Refining the Five Immortals

Deep within the mountain streams, a Daoist and a young maiden traveled together. Along the way, the girl could not help but steal glances at the Daoist; each time her eyes brushed past his bright, star-like features, her heart would quicken uncontrollably. Yet, as she recalled her own plight, her face would fall again, ashen as death.

Ji Ming, affecting the air of a sage, made a few ritualistic gestures, saying, “After we skirt the hill ahead and walk another two or three miles, we’ll reach the old temple.”

“Why are we taking a detour?” the girl asked, slightly breathless. Ever since they entered the mountains, the strange Daoist would summon a gust to help her up steep slopes and across deep ravines, sparing her much effort. If he could do that, why not take the direct path rather than circle around the hill?

Ji Ming gave a wry smile, pointing ahead. “There is a fox shrine in the mountains up there. I have some unsettled matters with them and would rather not cross their path again—best not to invite unnecessary trouble.”

The girl nodded in half-understanding. Though she knew nothing of the details, in the Daoist’s manner she sensed a kind of respect. Such conduct and deference were luxuries to someone of her circumstances, and she would never have expected to find them in a creature of the demonic world.

Sensing the humility in her heart, Ji Ming said, “Do not pity yourself, Lady Zhang. If the Spirit Matron takes you under her guidance, you may yet be reborn, stepping into a new world altogether.”

“My wishes are few,” she replied, “but if the Spirit Matron can learn of our lord’s righteous deeds, that will be enough.”

“Indeed,” Ji Ming responded, feeling a surge of confidence. The girl possessed an innate wisdom; though she had suffered misfortune, she bore no inner demon of hatred, and her innocence had given way to a resolute spirit. If the Spirit Matron truly possessed insight, she would surely perceive the girl’s true character.

The mountain path was rough, but under Ji Ming’s feet it seemed as smooth as a thoroughfare. Every so often he would conjure a chill wind to carry the girl over crags and ravines. Before long, the old temple appeared ahead.

On the familiar giant pagoda tree before the temple, his brothers—the crows—took flight together, as if to welcome his return.

With a caw, two large crows landed on either side of Ji Ming’s shoulders, affectionately rubbing their beaks against his cheeks. These two, his crow parents, had been gone for some time, and seeing them filled Ji Ming with emotion. He reached into his pouch for some fine rice, feeding them with care. Then, in a low voice, he inquired about the situation in the temple, especially the whereabouts of the Spirit Matron.

His crow parents told him that the matron often wandered the mountains hunting for insects—not just any insects, but only those venomous creatures hiding beneath rotting earth and decaying roots.

Ji Ming’s heart skipped a beat, as if he were fated to meet a nemesis from another life.

Upon entering the temple, Ji Ming glanced around and, seeing no sign of the Spirit Matron, knew she must be somewhere in the mountains. He approached a weathered clay statue with a broken belly, clasped his hands, and bowed. “Old Clay Lord, it’s been a long time since we last met.”

“If possible, I’d rather not see you at all,” came a sudden voice from within the temple, startling Lady Zhang. She could feel a gaze brush hastily over her.

“You have been appointed a teacher by the shrine,” the voice continued, “and could cultivate in peace for a hundred years. Why meddle in worldly affairs, entangling yourself in karma with all these doings?”

Before Ji Ming could reply, Lady Zhang spoke up first.

“The bandits in that mountain stronghold rob and brutalize travelers with impunity, while the authorities look the other way and the great fortresses remain indifferent. We women are left to suffer. Now that a demon has come to mete out justice, you, a haunting spirit, jump out with your criticisms and accusations—where is the justice in that?”

“Such is the justice of Mount Taiping,” replied the voice from outside the temple. Far from being cowed, Lady Zhang found her courage rising.

She turned to face the new arrival, anger blazing. “Is the justice of Mount Taiping greater than the justice of Heaven?”

The old woman, basket on her arm, entered the temple and declared, “Young lady, the justice of Mount Taiping is the justice of Heaven.”

Then, pointing at Ji Ming, she said, “This demon in the stronghold claims to rid the world of evil, but truly, he is only seeking to replenish himself. You, with mortal eyes and a mind clouded by your long captivity, have inevitably fallen under his sway.”

Lady Zhang drew a deep breath, steadying herself. She knew she had not come to argue.

“Judge by deeds, not by intent,” she said. “Whatever his purpose, it was not you, Spirit Matron, nor any temple spirit who delivered me from my torment, but a demon. I came here with him not to quibble, but to state the facts.”

“What a clever girl!” The Spirit Matron offered silent praise. Though the girl had long lost her innocence, to speak with such spirit in defense of a demon—it reminded the matron of her own youth. She decided not to make things difficult for her, and turned her gaze to the Daoist in dark robes.

He stood amid the temple, every inch the image of a transcendent sage, while the matron herself, basket in hand and hair tied back, seemed but a village woman in comparison.

“So, you bring a mortal girl into this temple only to prove your ‘righteous deed’?” she asked.

Ji Ming flicked the dust from his sleeve, stepping forward with a measured tread, his footsteps echoing through the temple.

“Spirit Matron, you had the mountain spirits summon me instead of simply destroying me. That shows compassion. Though I am of avian kind, I have shed my bestial nature and gained a human heart. How could I not acknowledge your kindness?”

He continued, “Lady Zhang here is exceptionally gifted and resolute, and has long admired you. Bringing her is to fulfill a bond of fate.”

His words pleased the Spirit Matron, and the tension in the room eased. Ji Ming presented Lady Zhang, and the matron regarded her with interest, her expression softening.

“Heaven cherishes life. If you will turn from your former ways and cease to forcefully take from others, we may coexist peacefully in these hills.”

Her words carried two meanings. First, that he must cease all violence, though she would not concern herself over subtler, mutual exchanges. Second, she was drawing a boundary: within the hills, there would be peace; beyond their borders, they would be enemies.

“Agreed,” Ji Ming nodded. This outcome was the best he could have hoped for, and he would need time to digest all he had gained.

With matters settled, Ji Ming did not hesitate. He left Lady Zhang at the temple and departed at once. The Spirit Matron took Lady Zhang’s hand and comforted her, and before long they had set aside their mistrust, finding themselves kindred spirits.

As they descended the mountain, the matron shared her origins. She came from a renowned unorthodox sect deep in the mountains beyond the heartland, neighboring the Lan-Yin Domain, a place known as Panhu Mountain. There, disciples cultivated the Five Spirits and concocted the Five Poisons.

In her youth, the Spirit Matron had been fiercely intolerant of evil, fighting many battles and suffering countless poisonous wounds, forcing her to retire and recover in these thirteen mountain strongholds.

Unseen by the matron, a pair of crows—one male, one female—perched in the treetops, overheard every word she spoke.

“Panhu Mountain!” Upon learning this from his crow parents, Ji Ming’s eyes grew pensive as he contemplated in silence.