Chapter 4: Lighting the Star

In the deep of night, all was silent, the myriad sounds of the world stilled.



Xu Xian lay sound asleep on his little bed. At a time when no one knew, a speck of blue light flowed within his body, not following any meridian. Xu Xian’s body was like a vessel filled with water, and that speck of blue light was like a fish in the water, swimming ceaselessly. At first, it was just a tiny bit, like fry scattered into the water, but after swimming for several hours, it grew a little larger. Only when the Milky Way faded did that speck of blue light also disappear.



When Xu Xian woke up the next day, he rubbed his head, still suspecting that last night had been a dream. Suddenly, his hand touched a book at his side. Picking it up, he saw it was that finely bound Dao De Jing. Although it was clearly a rare ancient edition, this “secret manual” was just too common, at the very least, he should have been given something like the Tathagata Palm!



Xu Xian vaguely remembered what happened last night. It seemed that the Daoist had put something into his head, but it was like the Four Books and Five Classics he had memorized: he seemed to know them, but at the same time knew nothing at all. It was truly a headache.



“Xu Xian, hurry to the private school, if you’re late the teacher will scold you.” His sister’s voice came. Xu Xian helplessly jumped out of bed, hurriedly ate breakfast, and headed to the private school. The so-called teacher was just an old xiucai ( a scholar who passed the imperial exam at the county level). Most people got up earlier as they aged, but he became more and more fond of sleeping in, so classes started late. This allowed lazybones like Xu Xian to sleep a bit longer.



Drowsily, he followed dozens of children, big and small, nodding and swaying, reciting “zhi hu zhe ye.” Xu Xian’s mind had long wandered to distant mountains and rivers.



With a “pa!” the teacher’s ruler slammed hard onto Xu Xian’s desk. Xu Xian, who had seen big scenes before, naturally wasn’t frightened by such petty tricks. He slowly raised his head and looked at the old scholar, with a face that said, “What do you want?”



The old man hated nothing more than students who didn’t respect their teachers, and his beard trembled with anger. “Recite what we just read. Miss a single word and you’ll get the ruler.” Instantly, the sound of children snickering filled the room. Xu Xian slowly stood up, dignified and unhurried, showing no sign of panic, which made the old scholar even more displeased.



Xu Xian braced himself for a beating, then recited in a clear voice: “Sincerity is the way of Heaven; to be sincere is the way of man. The sincere one hits the mark without effort, attains without thinking, follows the middle path with ease, and is a sage…” At first, Xu Xian was a bit awkward, but then the words seemed to leap before his eyes, and he recited them with ease.



The old man’s eyes grew wider and wider, as if he didn’t recognize the person before him. After just one night, the most foolish student in his class could now recite fluently.



Xu Xian recited smoothly, thinking to himself, “Could it be that the Daoist’s finger increased my intelligence? Bah, this isn’t a game. Turning stone into gold, he’s turned this blockhead into gold.”



He didn’t know that the Daoist’s simple tap had poured in so much effort. For a human cultivator to become immortal and attain the Dao, they must pass through three great heavenly tribulations. That Daoist had already passed two, but knowing he could never survive the last, he simply sought a successor, passing on his Daoist legacy by directly transferring a speck of Dao nature into Xu Xian’s soul. For ordinary people, even those with excellent aptitude, taking the first step in cultivation was fraught with difficulty, how could it compare to Xu Xian, who entered the path just by sleeping?



But that finger also carried great danger. Only those with firm will and deep fortune could withstand such a technique. Fortunately, Xu Xian was a person of profound merit and could bear the power of that finger. With a spiritual connection, he understood at once. That finger was called “Opening the Aperture” imprinting the Daoist heart method directly into Xu Xian’s soul. However, when the Daoist passed on the Dao, he worried Xu Xian would be distracted, so he only transmitted the Dao, not the techniques. It was like practicing martial arts by only training internal strength, without learning any moves.



As night fell, after leaving the private school and returning home, Xu Xian hurriedly ate dinner and told his sister about the day’s amusing events, making her laugh. She praised Xu Xian for “opening his aperture.” Xu Xian accepted the praise without modesty, repeatedly saying, “Exactly, exactly,” which made his sister scold him for lacking humility.



After dinner, Xu Xian rushed back to his little room, grinning from ear to ear, he really had met an immortal! He couldn’t help but focus on the things in his mind, assuming the five-hearts-toward-heaven posture and trying hard to cultivate. But his legs went numb and he didn’t achieve anything.



Xu Xian was annoyed. Was his talent really that bad? Didn’t transmigrators always learn everything instantly? He gritted his teeth and practiced for a long time, but still gained nothing.



Finally, he collapsed on the bed in frustration, thinking without ambition: When my wife comes, I’ll just let her teach me.



The night deepened. Suddenly, Xu Xian’s heart stirred, maybe his Daoist master was still there! He put on his shoes and went out, but the bridgehead was empty. Xu Xian walked back and forth on both sides, but didn’t see a single figure. He just felt his eyesight was brighter; places he usually couldn’t see in the dark, he could now vaguely make out.



After wandering for a while, Xu Xian, his mind in turmoil, helplessly leaned on the bridge railing, gazing at the black river water flowing silently below. The autumn wind and river water passed together through the bridge arch, softly singing an unknown song, echoing through the ages. In the black water, countless points of light flickered on and off.



Xu Xian suddenly looked up. The vast starry river shone, the world was empty and wide, and all his worries instantly became insignificant, not worth mentioning. Xu Xian’s life would last but a hundred years, the river flowed for a thousand, the stars endured for eternity.



Xu Xian suddenly gained some understanding. The so-called path of seeking immortality was to cast off the troubles of the mundane world, to befriend the river, to stand shoulder to shoulder with the stars. But not to mention mortals,even true immortals and Buddhas, compared to the universe, what are they? Not even a speck of stardust! The mayfly that lives for a morning and dies by night, the summer insect that cannot speak of ice. The relationship between humans and immortals is just like this! The summer insect mocks the mayfly, but how shallow is it itself? My body is finite, but the Dao is infinite. To seek the infinite Dao with a finite body, isn’t that foolish?



People don’t know that what we call night is just the shadow of a star, and even at night, the sun has not disappeared.



Xu Xian could never have imagined that the astronomy he learned in his previous life would be so useful in this one. His unique worldview gave him an insight that even the so-called immortals and Buddhas of this world lacked. Whether Dao or Buddha, what they cultivate is, in essence, a single heart. When the mind is clear, all methods are clear.



In the darkness, a pair of eyes watched this scene, the shock in his heart no less than that of the old scholar. Tonight, he had intended to give his disciple one last bit of guidance, to test his temperament by not showing himself. When Xu Xian, lacking perseverance, gave up searching and slumped on the bridge, the Daoist was disappointed, feeling he had entrusted the wrong person.



But just now, he saw with his own eyes that speck of blue light in Xu Xian’s soul suddenly swell, turning from blue to red, bursting forth with blazing brilliance. It no longer swam about, but stood in the center, illuminating all the darkness in his soul.



“Sun Star! Can someone really light the Sun Star?” the Daoist muttered. Their sect was called the Starry Sea, and their cultivation methods aligned with the stars. Though the method was the same, each person’s path was different, determined by which star the blue light corresponded to, this was the second great threshold of cultivation, “Lighting the Star .”



Different stars had different effects, and there was a hierarchy. The highest was to light one of the thirteen stars of the Northern and Southern Dippers. Most people lit other miscellaneous stars. The rarest was to light the Ziwei Emperor Star, something seen only once in a thousand years. The star is the nature, the star is the fate, the first star determines one’s entire path of cultivation.



The Daoist’s Daoist name was Taiyin Zhenren, because the first star he lit was the Taiyin Star, commonly known as the Moon. The Taiyin Star was extremely bright, even slightly above the Dippers, but it depended most on fate. On a full moon night, when the star’s power was strongest, even the Ziwei might be outshone, but at the start or end of the month, when the star’s power was weakest, it was no stronger than a miscellaneous star. The Daoist had calculated that his third heavenly tribulation would fall when the star’s power was weakest, this was fate, and he was helpless.



But there was one star that existed only in the concept of the “star river”, the Sun. Stars shine at night, and their sect cultivated at night, so lighting the star was always done at night, when the sun was hidden and it was the time of extreme yin.



By their doctrine, the sun had already set, how could it be lit? Xu Xian had succeeded in lighting a star on the second day, already a rare talent, but the star he lit was the Sun, a star that should have been impossible to light. Even the Daoist himself found it unbelievable.



Some in the sect had tried to light the Sun during the day, but while it was easy to do, they were all burned to ashes by the True Sun Fire on the spot. So no one tried again.



Ziwei, Taiyin, it didn’t matter, when the sun rises, the stars and moon fade. What does it matter if you are the lord of the stars? In the solar system, only that great fireball is the protagonist.



The Daoist sighed softly, “It seems I’ve taken on an extraordinary disciple.” He had originally wanted to give Xu Xian some guidance, but now, seeing the dazzling light in Xu Xian’s soul, he felt a bit of disinterest. His guidance might only lead Xu Xian astray, so he quietly faded into the darkness.



Xu Xian stood at the bridgehead, immersed in that wondrous state, until dawn, when he felt his body burning hot and finally came back to himself. The sun of the day was still more than he could bear.



Xu Xian hurried home, not knowing that he had already laid the most important foundation for his cultivation path. The main star was set; next would be building the Star Palace. But if the Sun was the main star and the other stars faded, how could the Star Palace be built? This was the Daoist’s only worry, but he didn’t let Xu Xian fret over it. After a night of enlightenment, Xu Xian felt his mind had never been so open, and many things that had weighed on him could now be set aside. He felt much lighter in body and mind.



He had worried about the poverty of his life, and had even thought of copying a few poems to improve things, after all, this was the so-called Great Xia Dynasty, and he could plagiarize Tang and Song poetry with no problem. But for a child, great fame might not be a good thing. So he had always hesitated, but now Xu Xian could finally make up his mind to just live his days quietly. The future was still long, wasn’t it?