30. Your Master Will Avenge You (Third Update – Ten Thousand Words)

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Within the Pure Immortal Monastery, a flash of golden light. In the blink of an eye, Chen Huangpi and the brass oil lamp found themselves inside the main hall. Yet there was not a trace of joy on his face; on the contrary, he spoke with utmost anxiety, “Huang’er, are you alright? How do you feel?”

Earlier, when the brass oil lamp had given him those instructions, Chen Huangpi had already sensed something was wrong. He had never faced life and death before—only a primal unease and dread, not knowing what might happen.

“My heart is in turmoil. I shouldn’t have brought you there.”
“Look at you, hanging your head again. Smile for me!”

The brass oil lamp stretched out two slender hands, wiped away the heavy tears streaming down Chen Huangpi’s face, then, as if performing a trick, pulled a book from behind its back. It was that very book—The Seventy-Two Secret Alchemical Recipes.

Chen Huangpi was stunned. “That’s the alchemical scripture Xu Qingshan gave us. You brought it with you?”
“I’m not like you—a scatterbrain!” the lamp said, showing off. “I don’t know why you wanted that scripture, and that strange one just wrote a copy for you, but since you wanted it, I, Huang’er, certainly wouldn’t forget. Well, are you touched?”
“I am!” Chen Huangpi nodded vigorously, a sudden warmth welling in his heart.

How could he not be moved? Since his earliest memories, his master had always been at his side, while Huang’er was his companion. But a master was an elder, different in kind. Huang’er was the true friend who played with him every day.

The brass oil lamp, seeing Chen Huangpi cease his tears, smiled with relief.
“Let’s go, Chen Huangpi.”
“Where to?”
“Not telling you!”

The brass oil lamp waved him off, its golden radiance rapidly dimming, even losing the effect of the Dog-Taming Scripture, reverting to its true form with a clang as it fell to the ground. In an instant, it was as though centuries had passed. Once a lustrous yellow, it was now covered in verdigris—rusted and battered, all traces of its magic gone.

Only then did Chen Huangpi realize the lamp’s wick had burned away. In the past, even when the oil ran dry, the wick never suffered any damage.

All at once, Chen Huangpi panicked, finally comprehending the meaning behind Huang’er’s earlier words.

A wail of grief echoed throughout the Pure Immortal Monastery.
Tears streaming down his face, Chen Huangpi clung to the brass oil lamp, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Huang’er, don’t die!”
“I can’t bear to lose you—I won’t let you die...”

But no matter how he wept and cried, the brass oil lamp never again responded as it used to, calling him friend and kin. It was gone. Utterly, irretrievably gone.

Refusing to accept it, Chen Huangpi’s voice trembled, “I will save you—I won’t let you die. Master, Master is all-powerful, he can save you!”

“Master, Master!!!”

“Master, where are you, please come out!”

As he finished speaking, a gentle, loving voice answered, “Huangpi, why are you crying?”

Chen Huangpi looked up to see his master standing at the entrance to the main hall, dressed in a purple robe, white-haired and gaunt, his face bearing an unfathomable expression.

For a moment, he thought he glimpsed the master as he was before madness took hold. Overwhelmed by grief, he rushed forward, sobbing as he embraced him.

“Master, I’ve made a mistake. I pestered Huang’er to go to the Sutra Library for the alchemical scripture, but we were trapped inside. To save me, he became like this.”

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“Master, I’m so sad, so heartbroken, so full of guilt. It’s all my fault.”
Chen Huangpi raised his head, his pale little face streaked with tears.

The old Daoist in the purple robe gently stroked his disciple’s head, softly saying, “Huangpi, everyone makes mistakes in life. You, and I as well. But often, when we make mistakes, we fail to consider whether we can bear the consequences.”

“I can’t bear them.”
Chen Huangpi shook his head desperately, crying, “Master, I’ve disappointed you.”
“Silly child, how could I be disappointed? You’ve admitted your faults—how could I feel anything but pride?”

The old Daoist wiped Chen Huangpi’s tears with a finger, smiling, “In a blink, you’ve grown so much your clothes don’t fit. I’ll make you another set soon, though you’re growing so fast I’ll have to make them big.”

“Master, can you tell me how to save Huang’er?”
“There is a way,” the old Daoist sighed. “But between life and death lies great terror. You must descend into the Yellow Springs, enter the earth of the dead, journey step by step to the summit of Desolation Mountain, and find the Soul-Returning Jade to restore him to life. Such a venture is fraught with peril—do you not fear death?”

“I’m not afraid. Even if I must brave blades and fire, I will save him.”
“Good, good. Huangpi, you’ve truly grown up.”

The old Daoist was full of comfort, yet smiled and said, “But I am still here, and Huang’er has been your companion for so many years. If you can’t bear to part with him, how could I bear to see you grieve or risk your life?”

“Life and death, nothing more.”
“I, Chen Shidao, will decide it with a thought.”
“Come.”

With a word, the old Daoist caused the brass oil lamp to float up, landing in his palm. Then he stepped forward.

Chen Huangpi felt the scene before his eyes change in a flash. In an instant, they arrived at the boundary where new regions had appeared in the Monastery. Thousands of brass oil lamps hung within, each a fragment of Huang’er.

Though Huang’er had died, these lamps still burned, their light unextinguished.

“Master, why have you brought me here?”
The old Daoist explained, “The Pure Immortal Monastery is ours, but in the end, it is yours. It’s time you learned some things.”

“See these lamps?”
“I see them. These are Huang’er’s avatars. He said it was you who split him like this.”

“Heh, always blaming me. But he’s a fool. If I hadn’t divided him into thousands, over the long years he would have turned into something monstrous. Had that happened, I’d have had to destroy him myself and throw him inside.”

The old Daoist beckoned to one lamp. Immediately it detached from the wall and floated before them. The next moment, something unexpected happened: as soon as the lamp left the wall, darkness swallowed that section instantly.

“Master!”
Chen Huangpi cried out, “The wall was devoured!”

The old Daoist remained calm, “And not just this wall. As the saying goes, a single thread pulls the whole tapestry. The monastery will lose a section; we just don’t know which yet. Remember this—never touch Huang’er’s avatars again. If what’s inside gets out, the monastery will be lost.”

Chen Huangpi nodded, bewildered, but he remembered. So Huang’er had been divided into thousands to keep what was inside from escaping.

“Master, what is inside? Is it something even you can’t handle?”

“Yes...” The old Daoist sighed, “Not even I can deal with it—only trap it here.”

Chen Huangpi shook his head, “You’re the most powerful, Master. You’re teasing me.”

The old Daoist smiled, “So you saw through me? It seems I won’t be able to fool you much longer.”

“Of course!”
“Now that I’ve mastered the Five-Viscera Spirit Refining Method and the Yin-Yang Fusion Technique, my senses are sharper than ever.”

“Very good.”
The old Daoist nodded, “First, refine the Five-Viscera Shrine, then invite the gods. That’s the right path. If you have the chance later, I’ll teach you another method, so you may be invincible under heaven.”

“Wonderful! If I had such a method, I could protect Huang’er and you, Master!”

Chen Huangpi was elated, not realizing that his master had deftly changed the subject.

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Whether his master had been lying, he had no time to ponder. For immediately, the old Daoist waved his hand. The avatar of the brass oil lamp instantly merged with its main body. As the two lamps became one, the burnt-out wick reappeared.

“Is this still Huang’er?”
Chen Huangpi asked anxiously, “He and his avatars have been apart so long—what if the one who comes back isn’t him?”

The old Daoist replied, “Huang’er’s avatars are merely other bodies of his. I’ve returned them to him, so of course it’s still him. He always complained I favored you, though he never dared say it to my face. Now he’s regained a portion of his strength—without you as his keeper, his tail would be wagging to the heavens.”

There was something pointed in that statement.

Chen Huangpi felt his cheeks grow hot. “Master, he tricked me first. In the end, I was right.”

“Master?”
But the old Daoist did not answer, standing motionless.

“Master?”
Chen Huangpi tentatively called, “Grandmaster?”

“Hey! Huangpi!”
The old Daoist suddenly turned, beaming. “Guess where I just went?”

Earlier, the brass oil lamp had told Chen Huangpi the old Daoist was not in the monastery at all, or none of this would have happened.

Thinking back, Chen Huangpi shook his head, “I can’t guess. Where could you have gone so late at night?”

The old Daoist grinned, showing off as he spread his sleeve, reached in, and produced a candied hawthorn stick like a treasure.

“Look, your favorite treat!”

“Grandmaster, where did you get that?”
“Many people have come to the Ten-Thousand Mountains. I caught the scent and went over, but don’t worry—I didn’t pay!”

Chen Huangpi was at a loss for words, his feelings mixed. He thought to himself, “Since Master lost his mind, he’s not as honest as before. He used to never tell me—just let me eat in peace. I have to find a way to cure him soon.”

“Grandmaster, tomorrow I won’t go out patrolling. I want to study alchemy!”

“Alchemy?”
The old Daoist burst out laughing, “Wonderful! Huangpi’s pills are the tastiest—alchemy is my favorite!”

But just as he finished, the old Daoist suddenly seemed to catch a scent, leaned close to Chen Huangpi, and sniffed him. Then his eyes widened.

“Huangpi, you went in there, didn’t you?”

“Grandmaster!”
Chen Huangpi hurriedly grabbed his master’s hand, “Please don’t be angry! I won’t go in again.”

Grandmaster’s nose was sharp; one sniff and he could tell everything that had happened recently. How far back he could sense, Chen Huangpi didn’t know, since his master was mad and couldn’t explain.

The old Daoist flared with anger, “Not angry? You’ve been bullied like this—how could I not be angry?”

With that, he slapped his forehead, then looked at Chen Huangpi with a helpless gaze.

“Ah...”
The old Daoist sighed, emotions surging, “I know you’re kind-hearted, always keeping your grievances to yourself instead of telling me. But if that’s the case, what need have you for a master?”

“Go, get some rest!”
“Let me settle this for you!”

Snatching up the brass oil lamp, the old Daoist opened his mouth wide, revealing his sharp teeth, and gnawed fiercely at the lamp, then shoved both it and the candied hawthorn into Chen Huangpi’s hands. Without another word, he plunged headlong into the newly-appeared region.