Chapter 989 - 828: Old Stories of the Dao Court

Chen Ji led Yuan Xing and others to Fulai Tea House.

As they arrived at the entrance, they heard the storyteller master behind the table slap his wooden block and proclaim loudly: "Ladies and gentlemen, yesterday we spoke of Second Miss Zhang and Marquis Wu Xiang, a pair like two chopsticks, one yin, one yang. Together they accomplish great things, treating the affairs of the world as a meal on a platter, but missing one, the lonely wood cannot support..."

Yuan Xing just crossed the threshold and instinctively looked at Chen Ji upon hearing this. But Chen Ji’s expression was calm, and he went to a corner silently.

Zhang Li chuckled softly, and whispered: "Marquis Wu Xiang is indeed used to being talked about."

Chen Ji, without turning his head, said: "You can’t stop others from wanting to talk."

At this moment, the storyteller master switched topics: "However, today I won’t speak of them. Taking advantage of the Universal Sacrifice event, I’ll narrate a fabricated legend of the Dao Court... that Huangshan Dao Court Master Apostle was originally a bell-ringing monk at Great Bao’en Temple, but due to major transgressions, he hid in the Huangshan Dao Court and ultimately became the Dao Court Master of a generation."

Upon hearing this, everyone was astonished. No one had ever heard that Apostle had been a monk before, and even Zhang Li was dumbfounded.

A tea guest loudly questioned: "Is it true, why have I never heard of it?"

The storyteller master smiled: "Those listening to stories should not ask me if they are true or false. Matters in this world are mixed with truth and falsehood, if you insist on debating..."

He raised the wooden block with his right hand high and then slapped it heavily, creating a startling sound that shocked the whole hall.

The storyteller master shouted: "It is said, for those beyond the world, the law is not constant, then knowing non-law becomes law. Worldly affairs, unfinished yet finished, may as well be concluded with inconclusion!"

Yuan Xing leaned towards Zhang Li and quietly asked: "Did your master really used to be a monk? Can someone who was a monk become a Dao Court Master?"

Zhang Li snapped back to reality, silently walked to the corner, and sat next to Chen Ji.

Yuan Xing looked towards Old Ears: "Do you know about this?"

Old Ears replied casually: "Naturally I know, but it’s not surprising. Chan Zhao that old brat was still a turtle slave raised since childhood in Pingkang Square when he was young, doesn’t even know who his mother is, nothing about a person’s origin is surprising in this world."

Seven people squeezed around a square table, Yuan Xing waved to the waiter: "Bring some tea snacks and fruits!"

The waiter responded: "Alright, Guest, please wait."

The storyteller master continued: "It is said that this Apostle’s original surname was Qin, seventh in his family, and his nickname was Aqi..."

Little Aqi came from a tenant family, and when he was seven, his father died of forced labor illness, leaving the family without a livelihood, the entire household of ten people ate one meal without knowing where the next would come from, only borrowing food to survive. In just four months, his eldest brother and second brother died of illness, his third sister died of starvation, and his grandparents threw themselves into the river, saving food for the family.

Eight-year-old Little Aqi, seeing that the family’s food reserves were dwindling, kowtowed three times at the door to bid farewell to his mother, and turned to Great Bao’en Temple to become a monk, staying there for twelve years, his head scars increased from three to six, with the Dharma name Wucheng.

At that time, heavy rain descended in Jiangnan, a flood destroyed the livelihoods of all, Great Bao’en Temple sent monks to Huai West, Fengyang Prefecture, Dingyuan County to provide disaster relief and distribute porridge.

When Wucheng arrived in Dingyuan County, he saw on both sides of the canal, refugees like ants crawling along the river, some carrying grey-haired mothers, others holding swaddled infants, some leaning on crutches breathing laboriously, some suddenly collapsing while walking, the person next to them bypassing without turning their head.

The county gates were tightly shut, soldiers with clubs stood on the walls, and thousands of starving civilians gathered below, a dense mass. The monks from Da Bao Temple set up a porridge tent, before the first pot of porridge was even cooked, the starving civilians rushed over like tides. A woman who had received porridge first pushed the bowl to her child’s mouth, but the child did not open his mouth.

The woman embraced the child, pried open his mouth with her fingers, and poured the porridge bit by bit into it. Halfway through, the child suddenly choked and coughed, the porridge sprayed from his nose.

At that moment, Wucheng recalled the Hungry Ghost Path spoken of by the Buddha: hunger burning like fire, seeing food but unable to eat, smelling fragrance but unable to swallow. Right outside Dingyuan County, it was no different from the Hungry Ghost Path.

Seeing the people from seven counties displaced and gathered in Dingyuan County while the food brought by the monks was far from enough, in seven days, over a thousand refugees died of hunger.

Wucheng asked his senior brothers what to do, but they only sat cross-legged outside the city reciting scriptures and praying.

Meanwhile, a tea guest in the tea house questioned loudly: "What then? Did they summon the Bodhisattva?"

The storyteller master snapped his wooden block: "The monks chanted for three days, but couldn’t summon food; instead, they summoned torrential rain. Little Aqi recalled his background, and immediately said fiercely, ’If heavenly and divine matters are unasked, I will ask!’ Wucheng then reported the name of Great Bao’en Temple to enter the city, demanding the county magistrate to open the granary and release food."

Arriving at the county government, the county magistrate refused to see visitors, Wucheng forcefully broke into the county government. Just entering the back hall, he smelled the fragrance of meat wafting from the official residence, the county magistrate was dining with his wife and concubines, with eight dishes and one soup.

Rage rose in Wucheng’s heart, he drew his blade and killed the official, holding the blood-stained blade he opened the city gates, then called upon twenty-two refugee men to enter the city to open the official granary. Food was released, the refugees had a meal, but Wucheng himself returned to the county government to tie his own hands, sitting cross-legged waiting for government officers to arrest him.

Government officers escorted him barefoot to Jinling, and before they reached Jinling, the people of Great Bao’en Temple arrived first, rescinding his Dharma certificate and name, expelling him from the temple, turning Wucheng back to Little Aqi.

Passing by Chaotian Palace, an old Taoist stood outside the Mountain Gate silently watching his feet walk worn, but kept his lips tightly shut, biting his gums until they bled.

The old Taoist asked aloud, "After journeying three hundred li, what have you seen?"

Little Aqi, bound in shackles, replied, "Hatred!"

The old Taoist smiled, "Wearing these shackles, resentment like snakes and scorpions will only harm yourself, not others."

Little Aqi understood the old Taoist’s meaning and knelt on the ground, shackle-clad, with a thud, "Master, teach me!"

The old Taoist laughed heartily, "I bestow upon you the Daoist name Apostle. Apostle means acting on behalf of heaven, renouncing possessions to walk three hundred li and see the world’s bitter hatred, disregarding one’s origin. Follow the old Taoist up the mountains!"

With a wave of the horsetail whisk, he unlocked the shackles and led Little Aqi up Huangshan Mountain.

In the corner of the tea house, Old Ears clicked his tongue in wonder, "It’s the first time I’ve heard such a detailed account."

He turned to Zhang Li, "Your master was a true hero back in the day, but he’s not so impressive now."

Zhang Li remained silent.

At this moment, the storyteller behind the desk said loudly, "Who would have thought that Apostle turned out to be a prodigious talent in cultivation, entering the Innate stage in a year, Seeking Dao in eight years, and ascending the Divine Dao in eighteen years..."

A tea guest shouted, "How does this compare to Lu Yang, the Mountain Master of Jing Dynasty?"

The storyteller shook his head, "Can’t compare."

The tea guest asked puzzled, "Why can’t it be compared?"

The storyteller explained, "Lu Yang entered Innate at twelve, Seeking Dao at sixteen, Divine Dao at twenty-one, naturally rare in the world, but he cultivates sword seed, which doesn’t count."

Old Ears suddenly spoke, "Why doesn’t it count? Who are you to say it doesn’t count just because you say so?"

The storyteller laughed, "Does this old gentleman know what the sword seed is? Throughout history, the top ranks have emerged from the Sword Seed Path, it’s the path that is powerful, not the people. If I cultivate sword seed, I might also be the best in the world."

Old Ears swore, "Damn it! Mountain Master Lu Yang entered Innate at twelve and Divine Dao at twenty-one, even among the Temple of Martial Arts it’s unique. Among those who cultivate sword seeds, there’s also a hierarchy!"

Yuan Xing and others exchanged glances, Jiang Chai quickly poured tea for Old Ears, "Calm down with a sip of tea, they don’t understand, why bother arguing with them."

At this moment, Ping Zhao entered from the door, seeing seven people squeezed around the square table, but didn’t mind, squeezed in to become the eighth, "The Eight Great Merchants have moved. They released word in Jinling a few days ago, stating they want all Huguang salt permits, and in just three days, they’ve acquired 120,000 permits and raised the price of salt permits to eight taels each."

Chen Ji poured her a cup of tea, "Have a sip of tea and speak slowly."

Ping Zhao didn’t touch the teacup, instead spoke solemnly, "We must stop acquiring salt permits, now the price has far exceeded Huguang’s salt price, even smuggling salt will incur losses. Furthermore, if the price of salt permits rises, the salt price will follow suit, and salt is vital to the people, this cannot happen."

Chen Ji pushed the cup towards Ping Zhao, "Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. The salt price won’t skyrocket."

Ping Zhao held the teacup, then asked, "Is the Young Master planning to sell the salt permits back to the Eight Great Merchants when the price peaks? If so, now is the best opportunity. I have mediators at Lamp who can handle this, at least within two days without letting the Eight Great Merchants catch on. Selling these salt permits we hold could yield hundreds of thousands of taels in profit, there’s no better business than this in the world."

Chen Ji shook his head.

Ping Zhao asked in confusion, "What exactly do you plan to do with these salt permits?"

Chen Ji replied with a smile, "Aunt Ping, don’t rush; the time hasn’t come yet."

Ping Zhao frowned, "When will the time be right?"

Chen Ji thought for a moment, pointing to the tea house, "When the tea house begins discussing salt permits."

As soon as he spoke, a man rushed into the tea house, plopped down at a table, and spoke to two tea guests drinking tea, "Did you hear? Huguang salt permits have been lifted to eight taels each by the Eight Great Merchants, claiming they’ll take any amount available. I just asked my cousin working at the Ji Family, it’s confirmed without a doubt."

Someone nearby exclaimed, "Huguang salt permits were only at two taels each ten days ago, how did they rise so fast? Could it be that the Eight Great Merchants caught some news that these permits will be of great use?"

The newcomer drank the tea from the table in one gulp, "Who knows? I’m planning to acquire dozens of permits and sell them to the Ji Family when the price reaches nine taels, earning dozens of taels effortlessly."

Ping Zhao listened intently to the neighboring table’s discussion, turned to look at Chen Ji, only to see Chen Ji rise, throw a piece of broken silver on the table, and walk out of the tea house, "Let’s go, the time is right."