Chapter 90: Master Benchen

In truth, "Mount Putuo" is an abbreviation derived from the Sanskrit language; its full name is "Mount Potalaka." Mount Putuo, located in the South Sea and surrounded on all sides by water, has been a sacred Buddhist site throughout Chinese history. Alongside Mount Wutai, Mount Emei, and Mount Jiuhua, it is revered as one of the Four Great Buddhist Mountains of China. Known as the "Buddhist Kingdom amidst the Sea and Sky," it is hailed as "the purest place on earth."

However, during the Wei and Jin dynasties, when Mount Putuo was still called Mount Meicen, Buddhism had yet to claim its foothold, and Daoism prevailed as the spiritual bastion of those seeking immortality. Daoism’s traditions are deep-rooted; when Buddhism first arrived in the East, especially in the southeastern regions, its influence among the common people paled in comparison to that of Daoism. Even before coming to the Central Islands of the East Sea, Master Dao Xuan had mentioned to Zhang Chi that this land had long been home to immortals—a statement not without basis.

At that time, Buddhist legends had yet to spread, while Daoist stories were widely passed down among the local populace. From a distant perspective, it was said that this place was where the Daoist Immortal Cihang cultivated. The Luojia Cave on Mount Putuo is still associated with his practice. In Daoist lore, Immortal Cihang is considered the previous incarnation of the Bodhisattva Guanyin, though, much like the tale of Laozi converting the barbarians, this is not acknowledged by Buddhists but is widely believed among the people.

Moreover, Mount Meicen abounds with tales of Daoist practitioners and alchemists seeking the Way. During the Qin dynasty, the alchemist An Qi lived here; in the Han dynasty, it was the sage Mei Fu. And one cannot fail to mention the immortal Ge Hong, whose name Zhang Chi had heard many times.

It was common for Daoist alchemists to practice refining elixirs and healing the sick in this land, and so every household honored the Daoist lords, and everyone held faith in the Way.

Little did these people expect that, despite their generations of devotion, they would one day be looted and massacred by the very orthodox Daoist followers of the Celestial Masters, who swept through the island, leaving countless innocent islanders dead.

How were the people to make sense of this? They often said that karma is inevitable, but could it truly come full circle in such a manner? It left them dumbfounded, their tears swallowed in silence.

After Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan had landed, they parted ways with the short-statured fisherman. Mount Meicen was not large—merely a high mountain rising abruptly from the sea, lush and thickly forested. Unfamiliar with the terrain, Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan were at a loss as to where they should go.

"The Five Pecks of Rice Sect is plundering here," Dao Xuan said from behind Zhang Chi as they traveled together, "I suspect they intend to set out to sea from here. We must hurry, or else San Tong and the others may be taken into the vast ocean by that sect."

Zhang Chi nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. But the island is all mountains and dense trees. The Beifu Army arrived before us, supposedly to eradicate the Five Pecks of Rice Sect—so how have they lost their trail so quickly?"

"Why don’t we head to higher ground?" Dao Xuan suggested, pointing to the mountaintop. "From the heights, we can survey the land. Both the Five Pecks of Rice Sect and the Beifu Army number many; such a large group cannot simply vanish. Perhaps from above we can determine their direction."

This was an excellent idea. Zhang Chi nodded in agreement and spurred Baixue up toward the peak.

The mountains on Mount Meicen were not tall; as the saying goes, "It is not the height that makes a mountain famous, but the presence of immortals." Where immortals had cultivated, seekers would inevitably follow. Upon reaching the summit and scanning the surroundings, Zhang Chi had yet to spot any armies, when suddenly, from afar, a hearty laugh resounded.

Following the sound with his eyes, Zhang Chi saw a Daoist approaching through the mountains. This Daoist appeared young, certainly no more than thirty, with an air of effortless grace. A sword hung at his back, and in his hand he held a small wine flask. As he ascended the mountain, he sang:

"Half a lifetime adrift on lakes and seas,
Transformed, an exile, I do not return home.
A cup of wine cannot intoxicate me at the world’s edge,
At leisure, I sweep fallen blossoms like the ancient immortals."

With that, he took a deep swig of wine and laughed heartily, his laughter brimming with heroic spirit.

This man’s bearing was extraordinary, and his song, too, was tinged with transcendence. Zhang Chi hadn’t expected to encounter such a noble figure in these mountains. Since he could not yet find the Five Pecks of Rice Sect, why not ask this man for information? With this in mind, Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan both dismounted.

Zhang Chi, seeing the man’s unrestrained demeanor and the hint of detachment in his poetry, felt a kindred spirit. He greeted him in his own distinctive fashion: "Brother, forgive my boldness, but might I beg a sip of your wine?"

The man promptly handed his flask to Zhang Chi with a smile. "There’s no need for such formalities. How could one make friends with the mundane on these immortal mountains? Forthrightness like yours is what I admire."

Zhang Chi, who had not tasted wine in days, laughed heartily, took a long draught, and returned the flask. "This is fine wine."

"It’s a strong liquor from the northern barbarians—spicy and burning down the throat. Rarely do people from the south enjoy it," replied Daoist Benchen, finding Zhang Chi’s taste for strong drink to his liking.

"What is your name, brother? And why are you alone in these mountains?"

"I am called Daoist Benchen," the man replied. "I heard that this mountain is endowed with spiritual energy, so I came seeking a fortuitous encounter—perhaps even immortality."

He laughed again, open and unrestrained.

Zhang Chi, ever skeptical of such ethereal pursuits, refrained from contradicting him and instead asked, "How long have you been here?"

Daoist Benchen, straightforward and without guile, felt an instant rapport with Zhang Chi and answered without hesitation, "It’s been half a month already. I’ve seen the immortal mountains at sea and meant to visit the sacred peaks of Shu next, but trouble arose on the island these past two days and it’s hard to find a boat back, so I must remain a while."

The trouble, Zhang Chi surmised, was likely the Five Pecks of Rice Sect’s marauding. He quickly asked, "What happened?"

"The Five Pecks of Rice Sect rebelled and, failing in their uprising, fled to this island. They’re plundering everywhere—every house has been raided, and even the boats have been taken." Daoist Benchen spread his hands. "So I’m stranded for now."

"Then do you know where the Five Pecks of Rice Sect are now?"

"Of course. Yesterday, they gathered all the grain and boats they’d seized on the southern side of the island. I’d wager the people are there now."

Hearing this, Zhang Chi gave a respectful bow and, with Dao Xuan, prepared to mount up and depart. The Daoist, puzzled, asked, "There’s chaos and killing in the south—why would you head there?"

Knowing the matter was too complex to explain in a few words, Zhang Chi answered simply, "Some friends of mine have been taken by the Five Pecks of Rice Sect. I have to rescue them."

"Since the Five Pecks of Rice Sect arrived, they’ve been burning, killing, and looting everywhere. You must be extremely careful," Daoist Benchen warned. But as he examined Zhang Chi more closely, something seemed to occur to him, and he exclaimed in mild surprise, "But you have a destiny with immortality. Here on these sacred mountains, perhaps fate will grant you eternal life."

The words "eternal life" startled Zhang Chi. Lately, he’d heard this mentioned often, and now it came up again. He paused, curiosity piqued, and asked, "Does such a thing as immortality truly exist in this world?"

"It seems you are not of the Daoist sect, or you would know of such things," Daoist Benchen replied with a slight smile. "In the time of Pangu, five immortal mountains floated above the Eastern Sea, borne on the backs of divine turtles. Each mountain held a divine elixir—eaten one by one, they prolonged life; taken together, they conferred immortality. But when Nuwa mended the heavens, she severed the turtles’ legs to support the four poles, moved Yuanqiao to Langya, and sank Daixu to the depths of the sea. From then on, the elixirs were incomplete. Still, there have always been those who, by chance, obtained the full elixirs and thus achieved eternal life, ascending as immortals."

Such tales Zhang Chi had heard since childhood, but never so systematically. Coming from the twenty-first century and raised as an atheist, he could not believe it. Yet Dao Xuan, a Buddhist monk, seemed utterly fascinated, surprisingly intrigued by these supernatural stories.

Zhang Chi cared less for the myths and muttered, "I’ve heard that Sun Tai, the leader of the Five Pecks of Rice Sect, possesses the secret of immortality. I wonder if it’s true."

Though he spoke to himself, he hoped Daoist Benchen might know more and elaborate. Sure enough, Daoist Benchen smiled and replied, "There’s truth to it. Only decades ago, the Daoist world produced a prodigy—Du Zigong, master of talismans and magic. It was said he possessed the secret of immortality, but he had no need of it himself and passed it to his disciple Sun Tai before ascending as an immortal."

Zhang Chi now knew that Du Zigong had not ascended, but had rather been murdered by Sun Tai. Seeing that Daoist Benchen could offer nothing more than hearsay, he clasped his hands and said, "Thank you for your guidance today, brother. I must go and rescue my friends—who knows when we will meet again in this vast world. Until then, farewell."

With that, Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan mounted their horses and headed south across the island.

The mountains on Mount Meicen, though not tall, were interconnected and stretched in undulating chains. Zhang Chi and Dao Xuan did not descend, but instead followed the ridgeline south, so as to keep the lay of the land in view.

The island was small, and with Baixue’s swift pace, they soon reached the southern shore, where the sea came into view in the distance.

"Brother Zhang, listen—there’s fighting over there!" Dao Xuan, hearing the sounds of battle first, leapt from Baixue’s back. The forest was dense and sightlines poor, so he used his lightness skill to leap to the treetops, gaining a better vantage.

"There are two groups fighting by the sea—it looks like the Five Pecks of Rice Sect and the Beifu Army," he called down.

Without hesitation, Zhang Chi spurred his horse forward. The sound of battle grew louder; crossing one more ridge, Zhang Chi finally saw the two factions arrayed in combat at the foot of the mountain. The attackers were the Beifu Army; the defenders, the remnants of the Five Pecks of Rice Sect, now driven to the water’s edge with no escape.

Yet their numbers were greatly diminished. When they had left Shanyin, the Five Pecks of Rice Sect had boasted at least ten thousand men; now, they were far fewer, surrounded on three sides by several thousand Beifu soldiers, with their backs to the sea and nowhere to run. It would not be long before they were wiped out.

"Brother Zhang, look!" Dao Xuan pointed to the chaotic melee below. "Isn’t that San Tong?"

Indeed, it was San Tong, wielding a blade in each hand, fighting desperately in the thick of the battle. But the Beifu Army pressed in on all sides, and though he fought valiantly, San Tong was already wounded in several places, and his situation was perilous.