Gradually, I sensed something—the memory of the Soul Avatar. Sure enough, traces of it still lingered. Though faint, I could finally touch it.
Now, what I need to do is keep my power at its lowest limit, so I don't harm the Soul Avatar.
"Let us help, Ethan Zhang."
The Spirit Snake behind me spoke. I nodded; controlling power wasn't my strong suit, so I had to rely on my Ghost Souls. After a moment, I could feel it—my power would no longer harm the Soul Avatar.
"Instinct... coexistence..."
"At the beginning, human nature is inherently good..."
A crisp chorus of recitation echoed. In a somewhat shabby classroom, a dozen children of varying ages chanted together. On the platform stood a Daoist in a blue-gray robe, about thirty years old, smiling warmly at the children below.
"Fake Daoist, when are you going to pay back the money you owe?"
A vicious voice rang out from outside. Five or six thuggish-looking men barged into the classroom. The Daoist on the platform kept smiling.
"Didn't I already pay you back before?"
"You still haven't paid the interest."
One of the men, with a look of contempt, burst out laughing.
"You paid the monthly interest, but there's still the annual interest."
The Daoist shook his head helplessly.
"Fine, let's go to the Daoist Magistrate and sort this out."
For a moment, all the children in the classroom stood up in fear and huddled together. This school was founded by the Daoist, who taught the local children to read and write, charging nothing at all.
"Who wants to go to the magistrate with you? If you don't pay up today, we'll tear down your school."
The argument grew heated. By now, many people on the street had stopped to watch, pointing and whispering. The crowd grew, and the thugs, feeling uneasy, soon left.
After the midday lessons, some of the children's parents brought a few things. Although the Daoist didn't want to accept them, he couldn't refuse and ended up taking some vegetables, rice, and flour.
The Daoist was called Zachary Fate—a name he chose for himself. As the thugs said, he really was a fake Daoist, or rather, a wandering Daoist. He had never formally apprenticed. Since he was ten, he visited a master every year, but none in the Daoist sects would accept him, always saying his temperament was ill-suited for the Dao.
With no other choice, Zachary Fate sought out every Daoist book he could find and studied them on his own. More than ten years passed, and he had only learned the form, not the essence. Yet he was never discouraged—his heart was set on the Dao, and he never once thought of giving up cultivation.
Over the years, he'd seen much, both big and small. In the past, Zachary Fate might have done reckless things, but as his temperament settled, he gained a carefree, detached outlook. Soon, he would go to Boundless Sanctuary to seek a master. Though already thirty-three, he knew that cultivating alone without guidance was fruitless.
Boundless Sanctuary was nestled in a nearby mountain, a quiet Daoist temple with a dozen or so Daoists, a few meager fields, and surrounded by forests. They seldom ventured down the mountain.
The area was relatively peaceful. When Zachary Fate was a child, the war had just ended, and he was lucky to grow up in such a time. But after the war, famine broke out. Until a few years ago, people here still starved to death, though things had been improving.
Under the scorching sun, after assigning homework to his students, Zachary Fate packed some dry food and a jug of water, preparing to head into the mountains—toward Boundless Sanctuary, a hundred miles away.
The mountain path was tough. Zachary Fate always believed in the principle of sincerity. Over the years, he'd visited many Daoist temples, but not one Daoist was willing to accept him. Some temples were bustling, but most were shams—too many people used the Dao as a front to swindle others in these troubled times.
Gradually, Zachary Fate learned to tell the difference. True Daoists had an air of quiet elegance, while the fakes reeked of money. Most of what they said came from books, and their teachings were just the insights of earlier scholars.
After trudging through the rugged forest for ten days, Zachary Fate finally saw Boundless Sanctuary rising above the trees. The exhaustion of the journey vanished; he ran joyfully up the worn but clean stone steps.
At the mountain gate, the doors stood open. Two Daoists were carrying water buckets. Zachary Fate bowed to them, and they politely bowed back before entering the gate.
In a modest courtyard, surrounded by a few tile-roofed rooms, incense burned quietly in the Three Pure Ones Hall. Everything here radiated tranquility. Zachary Fate stretched contentedly, glancing at his Daoist robe—it had been with him for years. This was his seventh visit.
The master of this temple was an old Daoist called Master Boundless. He was said to be a hundred years old and still had eleven disciples.
This Daoist robe had been given to him by Master Boundless on his third visit, after he had brought rice, flour, and food, and knelt in sincere worship for several days.
"Nature has already transformed into all things. You have come again."
Zachary Fate hurried over. On the steps stood an elderly Daoist with white hair, holding a whisk.
"Master Boundless."
Zachary Fate bowed respectfully.
"Brother Natural, bring over the new tea you picked the other day and serve our guest."
The smiling, chubby Daoist nodded and patted Zachary Fate on the shoulder as he passed.
"The new tea is delicious."
They sat in an old lounge next to the Three Pure Ones Hall. Zachary Fate quietly watched Master Boundless.
"Master, I only hope to become your disciple, to devote myself to cultivation. I hope you will formally accept me."
Master Boundless shook his whisk and smiled helplessly.
"My answer is still the same. I won't accept you—not because you lack sincerity, but because fate has not aligned you with the Dao. Stay a few days, then please leave."
With that, Master Boundless left the lounge. Zachary Fate's spirits sank; he still couldn't understand why none of the true Daoists he'd sought out over the years would accept him.
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At that moment, the Daoist named Brother Natural came in carrying a teapot and cups.
"Don't lose heart. The Dao is actually very spontaneous. Master often says, 'Act according to your nature, let your character guide you.'"
"Please explain in detail, Master."
Zachary Fate bowed respectfully.
"So, where exactly is the Dao?"
Zachary Fate shook his head in confusion. Brother Natural smiled, shook his own head, and pointed at Zachary's heart.
"It's already in your heart. I've tried to persuade Master to accept you, but my view is the same now. You can't join our Daoist sect; what you need is your own Dao. The Dao is ever-changing, like clouds and rain."
Zachary Fate quietly drank his tea. After hearing Brother Natural's words, he felt a bit better, though he was still disappointed that he couldn't formally enter the sect.
After staying for three days, Zachary Fate prepared to descend the mountain. At that moment, Master Boundless called to him, holding an ancient sword with black and white patterns on its blade.
"I give you this Boundless Sword."
Zachary Fate's eyes widened. He accepted it sincerely, as if receiving a priceless treasure, bowing repeatedly in gratitude. Master Boundless pulled him up.
"I give you this sword because you are destined for it. Fate is ever-present. Your life has been full of hardship, but the Dao is in your heart. I hope you understand: your Dao is something you must seek for yourself, not from others."
"I will remember."
With a swish, Zachary Fate drew the Boundless Sword after reaching the foot of the mountain. Instantly, its radiance flashed everywhere. He was amazed by its sharpness—it had always been enshrined before the Three Pure Ones statues, and he thought it was only for decoration. He pressed his hand to the blade; it was extremely sharp and felt light in his grip.
"Perhaps this is my destiny."
This time, Zachary Fate completely gave up the idea of formally joining a Daoist sect. After returning to his village, he continued teaching students every day, helping them learn to read and write, living a carefree and peaceful life.
He cultivated every day according to Daoist teachings, never slacking off.
Time passed quickly. In a flash, Zachary Fate was already forty, but he gradually noticed that his body seemed as youthful as a man in his twenties, with hardly any change.
After staying in one place for so long, Zachary Fate decided to see more of the world and continue his journey of cultivation. Some of his students had become successful and wanted him to help and honor him, but Zachary Fate declined.
With a sword, an old gourd, cloth shoes, and a simple grey robe, Zachary Fate left his village.
After half a month, Zachary Fate arrived at a sparsely populated town. He went to an inn, hoping to exchange labor for food, as he had done all along his journey.
He was often hungry. When he couldn't find food, he would go into the woods and gather wild vegetables and fruits to fill his stomach.
"Get out, you smelly Daoist! I haven't made a penny in a month—there's no rice or flour to spare for you!"
Starving and anxious, Zachary Fate reluctantly settled in a broken-down house on the edge of town. He noticed something strange: the villagers seemed listless and their spirits were poor.
Upon arriving, Zachary Fate smelled a strange stench. He didn't know what it was. After meditating for a while, he decided to look for water as evening fell.
Just then, he caught a whiff of fragrance and looked toward the town in surprise. The entire town was ablaze with light, as if celebrating a festival. He hurried over and found the streets crowded, yet it seemed no one could see him.
"Excuse me, what is..."
Zachary Fate reached out to a villager, but his hand passed right through their body. He was shocked—he had never seen anything so strange before.