Chapter 33: One Mountain and One Temple Are Ultimately Too Small

About half an hour passed.

Xuan Huang returned to the mountain with his two disciples.

This time, they noticed he had clearly aged. Wrinkles creased his face, he’d lost two teeth, and struggling to eat had left him thin—so thin that his bones showed through.

He walked slowly, leaning heavily on Shang Lu and Chang Shan as they climbed up.

In the end, Xuan Huang had grown old. After all, he was just an ordinary man who couldn’t match his own master’s long life.

But when he spotted Mr. Chen at the entrance, the hardship vanished from his face, replaced by a warm smile.

“Mr. Chen, you came.”

Chen Changsheng looked at him, momentarily unsure how to reply.

…

Chang Shan placed the preserved fruits and snacks bought from town onto the table. The Master had picked these out carefully, and they weren’t cheap.

Likely, only when Mr. Chen visited would he buy such treats. Any leftovers would later end up in his junior disciples’ stomachs.

Some premium tea leaves were also brewed for their guest.

Xuan Huang cleared his throat. “All of you may go now. I wish to speak privately with Mr. Chen.”

Chang Shan led his fellow disciples away to attend to other matters.

Only Chen Changsheng and Xuan Huang remained in the pavilion at the rear courtyard.

Chen Changsheng sipped his tea. “Why is one missing?”

“The year after you left, Xuan Shen went down the mountain.”

Xuan Huang took a shaky breath. “His heart lies in the Jianghu within the Mortal World, so I let him go.”

Chen Changsheng nodded. “He carries the spirit of the Jianghu deep in his bones. Staying confined to this mountain was always impossible for him.”

Xuan Huang had understood this from the start, which is why he hadn’t stopped Xuan Shen’s departure. Back then, he’d only told him: “If you ever wish to return, this temple will always have a room for you and a bowl of rice.”

“But lately, a matter weighs on this old heart.” Xuan Huang confessed. “I seek your counsel.”

“Ask freely.”

“Xuan Shen’s leaving made me reflect. Originally, I wished for them all to remain on the mountain forever—a selfish wish, I know. Yet these years, I’ve increasingly felt the wider Heaven and Earth beyond is where they’re meant to be, not confined to temple walls.”

Xuan Huang sighed. “But…”

“Time and destiny… This past year, I’ve felt so weak. Death may soon come for me. Now I fear none of my three disciples will choose to stay. That the Flowing Cloud Temple’s legacy will perish by my hand.”

“Then tell me,” Chen Changsheng asked softly, “do you believe all three wish to leave?”

“I don’t know.” Xuan Huang’s voice was heavy.

Chen Changsheng straightened. “I believe Chang Shan yearns to leave. Yet if Shang Lu and Zi Su choose to go as well, he will choose to remain here.”

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Xuan Huang closed his eyes in thought, murmuring, “Infinite Heavenly Lord…”

Chen Changsheng spoke again. “What outcome would satisfy you most?”

“The best outcome…”

Xuan Huang tried to imagine it, but his heart tangled instantly. Decades of clear meditating rarely left him unsettled like this.

In moments like this, he envied his master’s extraordinary longevity. A few more years would have made this choice less torturous.

“Chang Shan is soft-hearted. If he stays to please others, you’d hate it.” Chen Changsheng laid it bare. “Shang Lu staying would feel unjust to him. Zi Su is a girl. You fear the temple’s burden too great for her shoulders. Option after option feels unfulfilling.”

The words struck precisely.

Xuan Huang lifted his weary face. “A lifetime spent cultivating the Dao…yet paralyzed over such a small thing? How laughable.”

“Your heart has always leaned toward tenderness,” Chen Changsheng observed.

A helpless smile touched Xuan Huang’s lips. “You know this old fool well.”

“Remember,” Chen Changsheng countered gently, “some will leave the mountain… yet others may come ascending it.”

“Even if all three depart, years later, one might yet return.”

“Though I cannot foresee everything,” he continued, “should no one ever come back… finding a new inheritor is possible. That small task, I could undertake.”

“But I couldn’t trouble—”

“Trouble? Between us?” Chen Changsheng cut him off.

“I…” Xuan Huang’s voice choked, words failing him.

“Your choice?” Chen Changsheng prompted, his voice calm.

Xuan Huang rose. Without a sound, he knelt within the pavilion.

Knees struck stone floor. Forehead pressed against cool tiles in deepest reverence.

This bow came from his very soul!

This time, Chen Changsheng did not stop him.

To halt such a kowtow would wound Xuan Huang deeper still. For those who walked the Dao, an unburdened spirit mattered above all else.

…

At noon that day, Xuan Huang summoned his three disciples before him.

“All of you,” he stated. “Leave the mountain.”

Chang Shan pleaded a thousand reasons “why?” before his master. Xuan Huang remained stone-faced. He pushed them out of the Flowing Cloud Temple and shut its heavy doors tight behind them.

Chang Shan endlessly knocked, scratched, pled… even breaking the wooden bolt in his desperation. Silence reigned from within.

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Finally, he knelt… and waited.

Shang Lu knelt quietly beside him, composed and saying nothing.

Zi Su wept hard. “Master,” she cried out repeatedly through choked tears, “why are you casting us out?”

Within the pavilion…

Chen Changsheng placed a Go stone. “For you, being resolute is rare indeed.”

“If blame must fall,” Xuan Huang stated firmly, “let it fall solely upon this Master.”

“Even now,” Chen Changsheng sighed softly, “you shield your disciples first. Truly…” He said no more. Xuan Huang’s stubbornness ran too deep.

The Go game ended predictably: another defeat for Xuan Huang.

“Master,” he requested hoarsely, “would you… speak for me? This old monk’s resolve dissolves hearing them plead…”

Chen Changsheng agreed. He walked to the temple door and opened it.

Three disciples knelt on steps below: Chang Shan, Shang Lu, Zi Su.

“Great Master!”

“Great Master, please reason with our Master!”

“Why is he sending us away?” Zi Su’s tear-streaked face begged answers. Chang Shan’s eyes held red rims.

“Each of your paths differs,” Chen Changsheng declared. “One Mountain and One Temple… these are ultimately too small.”

“There is no need to kneel here any longer. Descending into the world must be your Destiny.”

Chang Shan’s lips parted. Recognition seemed to dawn. “Is there truly… no turning back?”

“Years from now,” Chen Changsheng promised, “if any wish to return… the door of the Flowing Cloud Temple will remain open.”