Chapter Fifty-Six: An Invitation to the Tea of Enlightenment

Amid the crimson peaks of Pinecrest,

Verdant pines flanked the ancient path, half-veiled in shadows and moss. Zhang Yuan supported the old man, climbing the weathered stone steps, following behind Yu Jing and Yu Yin.

Now that Bai Yi saw two people guiding the way, she left ahead to report back. Led by these two, the old man and Zhang Yuan continued their ascent along the ancient mountain trail.

Rare herbs and orchids flourished on the mountainside, exuding a rich medicinal fragrance that made the travelers feel utterly refreshed. The old man, beholding these wild and wondrous blooms growing so freely, could not help but marvel. Such spiritual herbs, if taken outside, would command a price beyond gold; martial artists would fight each other for them without a second thought.

Spiritual herbs were precious, especially for those cultivating the martial path. Behind every martial grandmaster was a veritable mountain of rare treasures—let alone those who had reached the highest echelons. So much so that even in the wildest forests, these martial artists’ fervor for medicinal herbs could not be curbed, leaving not a single decent herb to be found in the markets.

At first, he assumed these herbs had been deliberately planted by Pinecrest Dao Palace to nurture their disciples. Yet he soon realized this was not the case. Along the way, he saw wild deer, muntjacs, and other creatures nibbling freely on the herbs, unbothered by any restraint. When he witnessed a great squirrel feasting on a stalk of purple ganoderma, his heart ached for the Dao Palace’s loss.

He turned to Yu Jing ahead and asked, “Master Yu Jing, are these mountain herbs planted by the Dao Palace? Why is there no one to watch over them? To let wild beasts consume them is such a pity!”

Zhang Yuan nodded in agreement. The fragrance of the herbs had tempted him all along. As a half-step grandmaster, he was in desperate need of such medicines; though young, these herbs were far more potent than ordinary ones. Seeing them devoured by beasts rather than used for alchemy pained him.

Yu Jing glanced at the wild creatures and smiled unconcernedly, “These herbs and orchids are the gifts of nature, not cultivated by the Palace.”

Zhang Yuan could not help but question, “Master, since these are naturally grown, shouldn’t they be protected from wild animals? Wouldn’t it be better to refine them into elixirs for cultivation?”

Yu Jing stroked his beard and laughed, “Not so! My brother Yu Chen once said, the path of cultivation is not to plunder nature’s blessings, but to coexist as one with all creation. Only then can one approach the subtlety of the Great Dao. Besides, these herbs are everywhere—why fight over what the mountain spirits eat?”

His words filled the old man with reverence.

“Truly a man of virtue!” he praised, stroking his beard.

Even Zhang Yuan felt a genuine admiration arise. He had worried this reclusive master’s temperament was unknown and might harm Elder Guo. Now, his concerns eased. Anyone who could speak thus was surely a person of great cultivation.

Following the Daoist, they soon passed through a natural archway and reached the mountaintop palace. As they arrived, their eyes were drawn to an ancient pine, as thick as a coiling dragon, its countless branches stretching to the four corners, supporting a red canopy like sunset clouds, sheltering them all.

The old man exclaimed, “A marvel of nature! Such wonders—my journey has not been in vain!”

As awe still lingered, a strange fragrance drifted by. Wisps of white mist curled up ahead, forming shapes of pines and cranes in the air. Within the scent of tea, both men felt their spirits clear, as if all dust was washed away.

“It’s Brother Yu Chen brewing tea!” Yu Jing and Yu Yin both brightened at the aroma. They knew well the wonders of Dao-seeking tea. A single cup had once helped them break through to martial grandmaster; to taste it again was a rare delight.

Drawn by the scent, the old man and Zhang Yuan gazed toward the source. Not far off, a figure in azure robes sat beneath the pines, tending a kettle over a small fire. At his feet lay a white fox, fur as pure as snow, watching the young Daoist with tranquil devotion.

As the tea boiled, the fragrance intensified, filling the air.

“A guest from afar—please accept this humble cup of tea. If you do not mind, come take a seat,” called a warm, clear voice, rousing the old man and Zhang Yuan from their reverie.

They looked at the youth beneath the pine, whose presence was lofty and ethereal, utterly out of the ordinary. They had assumed, from the way the other Daoists addressed him as “junior brother,” that he was an old man as well—not a young priest of such extraordinary bearing.

Yu Jing and Yu Yin, upon seeing Lin You, were momentarily astonished.

They noticed that their junior’s aura had grown even more transcendent, resembling a true immortal beyond the mundane world. Even as martial grandmasters, they now felt almost unworthy before their brother.

“Brother, what has become of you?” Yu Jing could not help but ask.

Lin You smiled and replied, “I have gained a little insight, nothing more. Brothers, please join us at the table.”

Yu Jing came to his senses and promptly invited the old man and Zhang Yuan to sit.

At the table, each found before them pine truffles and apricots. The old man and Zhang Yuan, both keen-eyed, immediately recognized the apricots as something rare—perhaps even legendary spiritual fruit.

Their curiosity about the Daoist host grew, and they bowed in thanks. “Thank you for your hospitality, Master. We have come uninvited and may have been discourteous—please forgive us.”

Lin You shook his head, smiling. “Since you are not ill-intentioned, you are guests fated to meet the Dao. The mountain is poor; I have only wild fruits and tea to offer—please do not mind.”

The old man laughed, “Excellent tea! Spiritual fruit! It is we who are shamelessly enjoying your bounty. May I ask, what is this tea called? I have tasted many teas, but never one with such fragrance!”

“It is called Dao-seeking,” Lin You replied with a faint smile.

He had made this tea today to celebrate his breakthrough onto the immortal path; the two guests had arrived by happy coincidence.

Hearing this, both the old man and Zhang Yuan were taken aback—a tea named for seeking the Dao? Yet from this Daoist’s lips, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

The tea boiled higher, its white steam swirling with a strange vitality. Lin You extended a hand, fair as jade, and tapped lightly on the table. Before everyone’s astonished eyes, the steam rose from the kettle, transforming into the figure of a crane, wings beating as it circled gracefully in the air.