28: Morning chanting of scriptures, birds and beasts paying homage to the immortals.
The tenth day of the twelfth lunar month, at the third quarter of the Yin hour.
The cold mountain mist had not yet dispersed, and the sky's light was still submerged at the indigo edge. When Li Muchen pushed open the temple doors, the first drop of water dripped from the icicles on the eaves, hitting the bluestone with a faint, crisp sound.
He stood before the steps, taking a deep breath of the freezing air.
The residual warmth of the Laba congee still lingered on the mountain people's lips, and Qingfeng Temple had returned to its usual tranquility. Cultivation is like a stream; though it appears calm, it is actually moving forward every moment. For today's morning lesson, he decided to try chanting the Classic of Purity and Stillness aloud.
In the past, he mostly recited it silently or hummed it low, focusing on comprehending the original meaning of the scripture. But since reshaping his Golden Body, the deity statue coming to life, and the incense offerings growing day by day, he vaguely felt that at this time when the morning light first wakes and Yang Qi begins to stir, chanting aloud in a place where Spiritual Qi gathers like this Daoist temple might hold another mystery.
After finishing his ablutions and changing clothes, he stepped into the Main Hall.
The morning light was dim inside the hall, and the newly sculpted deity statue stood quietly in the shadows, yet a very faint clear glow circulated around it as if it were breathing on its own. The incense ash from the night before was still warm on the offering table, and the residual scent of heart-clearing grass and sandalwood intertwined into a peaceful aura.
He first burned three sticks of incense before the deity statue, performing the rituals with decorum. After the ceremony, he walked to the side of the cold jade meditation cushion but did not sit down; instead, he turned to face the wide-open hall doors.
On the eastern horizon, the white of a fish's belly was slowly spreading.
Li Muchen closed his eyes to focus his mind, his Purple Mansion's Spiritual Terrace as clear as a mirror. Within his Dantian, the True Essence golden liquid rippled slightly, faintly echoing the dao rhyme of the deity statue in the hall, and creating a subtle resonance with the mountain Spiritual Veins outside the temple—as if the entire Daoist temple and this mountain range were an extension of his breathing.
A moment later, he spoke.
At first, his voice was not high, as clear and resonant as a spring hitting a rock: "Laojun said: The Great Dao has no form; it brings forth and nurtures Heaven and Earth..."
Every word was smooth and round, every sound transparent.
But as the scripture flowed, a change gradually occurred.
That voice was no longer merely produced by the throat and tongue, but was carried by his own True Essence aura, Karma's clear light, and the insights into "Purity and Wuwei" he had immersed himself in for half a year, transforming into a sound wave containing a special dao rhyme.
The sound wave radiated from him as the center, spreading out like ripples on water, blending with the clear glow of the deity statue in the hall, resonating with the Spiritual Qi of the Spirit Gathering Formation, and even drawing out the majestic Wood Spirit vitality from deep within the ancient cypress tree!
"...The Great Dao has no emotion; it moves the sun and the moon. The Great Dao has no name; it eternally nourishes all things..."
The chanting echoed between the hall beams, circulated in the courtyard, and further penetrated the morning mist, spreading toward the silent mountain forest. Everywhere the sound wave passed, the morning wind became gentle, the cold air quietly retreated, and even the frost crystals on the leaves of plants trembled slightly in the rhythm of the sound, reflecting fragmented rainbow light.
The first to be disturbed were the tits on the branches of the ancient cypress tree.
The pair of grey-backed tits that had lived on the high branches of the ancient cypress tree for years were originally curled in their nest dozing, but they raised their heads simultaneously upon hearing the sound. Their bead-like black eyes turned toward the Main Hall; after a moment of daze, they actually flapped their wings and flew out, landing on the brackets of the hall's eaves, tilting their heads to "listen."
Next, in the pine forest outside the temple walls, fluttering sounds gradually rose.
Three or five sparrows emerged from tree hollows, seven or eight magpies left their nests, and even brightly feathered azure-winged magpies and orioles flew from the deep forest. Initially, they circled hesitantly, but were gradually drawn by the clear and peaceful chanting, landing one after another on the courtyard walls, eaves, and stone steps. Without fighting or crowding, each found a spot and perched quietly.
More and more birds gathered.
After half a stick of incense's time, the branches of the trees around the temple were densely packed. Sparrows, tits, magpies, turtle doves, and even a few rare red-billed leiothrixes all folded their wings and stood still. There was no chirping, no fluttering, only the occasional very light sound of feathers rubbing together and chests rising and falling slightly with the rhythm of the chanting.
Land animals also arrived.
Two squirrels scratching for pine cones on the slope behind the temple stopped their movements to listen intently, then nimbly climbed up the tree trunks, squatting on the highest branches with their bushy tails swaying gently. A grey-brown wild rabbit poked its head from a rock crevice; after its long ears twitched for several breaths, it actually hopped out of its hiding place and crouched on the moss at the base of the ancient cypress tree. Further away, a young deer drinking by the stream raised its head and pricked its ears, walking with elegant steps toward the edge of the forest, standing quietly behind the morning mist.
The chanting continued to flow.
"...The spirit of man loves purity, but the mind disturbs it; the mind of man loves stillness, but desires pull it..."
The rhythm echoed in the valley, as ethereal and distant as heavenly music. Wherever the sound waves reached, the fierce light in the eyes of the birds and beasts completely vanished, and all restlessness was calmed. The sparrows withdrew their defensive postures, the squirrels relaxed their tensed muscles, the rabbit's three-lobed mouth stopped twitching, and the young deer's eyelids lowered slightly—all things seemed to find peace in this sound and rhythm.
Inside the hall, Li Muchen was completely lost in the moment.
He felt as if his voice had grown roots, intertwining with the dao rhyme of the deity statue, connecting with the pathways of the Spirit Gathering Formation, and blending with the vitality of the ancient cypress tree. Every syllable became a bridge communicating with Heaven and Earth, infinitely expanding his mind.
The Spiritual Sense in his Purple Mansion was unprecedentedly active, and his understanding of the Classic of Purity and Stillness surged like a tide. Those sentences he used to find obscure now produced thousands of annotations. The True Essence golden liquid in his Dantian circulated with the rhythm of the chanting, harmonious and smooth, faintly becoming a bit more solid.
Even more mysterious was the feedback from the outside world.
The faint "spirituality" fluctuations emitted by the birds and beasts—that was the most primal peace and joy of living beings. Though scattered like starlight, when gathered, they formed a trickling warm current, blending with the rhythm of the chanting, the spiritual resonance of the Daoist temple, and the morning purity of Heaven and Earth to weave an invisible great net. This net gently enveloped Li Muchen, nourishing his mind and moistening his Dao Foundation.
This was a cultivation state he had never experienced before: not solitary cultivation, but cultivating together with the creatures of a region; not taking, but harvesting through giving.
"...Descending from the source to the end, thus giving birth to all things. Purity is the source of turbidity, and movement is the basis of stillness. If a person can be constantly pure and still, Heaven and Earth will all return to them..."
As the last line of the scripture was spoken, the lingering sound circled the beams three times before gradually dissipating.
Li Muchen slowly opened his eyes.
His eyes were as clear as a mountain spring after the first snow melts, reflecting the growing light outside the hall. He turned his head to look out the door, and even with his Foundation Establishment state of mind, he couldn't help but be slightly stunned.
The courtyard walls were covered with birds, the eaves were like they were decorated with living ornaments, and almost no green leaves could be seen on the branches of the ancient cypress tree, all covered by feathers of various colors. In the forest in the distance, the figures of beasts were visible, and deer antlers appeared like coral in the morning mist.
All was silent.
There was only the low hum of the mountain wind brushing through the treetops, intertwined with the gentle breathing of the creatures.
When his gaze swept across, the silence was broken.
The birds seemed to wake from a dream, letting out short, light chirps before taking flight. It wasn't a panicked scattering, but an orderly ascent—sparrows first, tits next, with magpies and turtle doves bringing up the rear. The flock of birds circled three times in the air, as if performing a salute, before each returned to the mountain forest.
The beasts also moved.
The squirrels scurried into tree hollows, the rabbits hid in rock crevices, and the young deer turned and vanished into the morning mist. Everything happened quietly and quickly; in less than ten breaths, the area around the temple was empty and silent again.
Only a few feathers on the bluestone and a few paw prints in the moss proved that the wondrous scene just now was not an illusion.
Li Muchen stepped out of the hall doors and stood before the steps.
The peaceful aura of the gathered creatures still lingered in the air, an aura as moist as spring soil and as light as morning dew. Within his Spiritual Terrace, the Karma's clear light brightened another notch; within his Dao Foundation, his comprehension of the word "Nature" deepened by a layer.
He looked toward the east, where the morning sun had already leapt over the mountain ridge, splashing golden light and dyeing the Daoist temple in warm colors.
"Morning chanting has actually become a bridge to summon all things," he murmured to himself. "The Dao follows nature, and teaching is formless; so that's how it is."
This phenomenon was certainly due to his deepening cultivation and the special spiritual land of the Daoist temple, but it also secretly aligned with the changes in the Heaven and Earth's Qi—as the Spiritual Qi gradually becomes active and the spirituality of all things begins to stir, such a resonance can occur.
From then on, this morning chanting became a unique sight of Qingfeng Temple, and also a bond connecting him with the living beings of this mountain forest.
Turning back into the hall, the deity statue stood quietly as before.
But with Li Muchen's sharp Spiritual Sense, he noticed that the dao rhyme around the clay statue was half a point moister than before the morning lesson. It was as if a sliver of the peaceful aura from the homage of all the creatures just now had also been absorbed by it, transforming into its own foundation.
He sat down on the meditation cushion and closed his eyes to savor the experience.
On the path of cultivation, to suddenly encounter such a scene was like seeing a clear spring in a desert, making one feel refreshed and joyful. And he knew that this was only the beginning.
Outside the hall, a tit flew back to a branch of the ancient cypress tree, chirping twice as if savoring the lingering charm of the morning scripture.
A clear breeze brushed past, and the copper bells on the eaves rang lightly.
A new day slowly unfolded in this morning where the dao rhyme and living beings danced together. The legend of the deep mountain Daoist temple added another vivid footnote in the silence.