Chapter Fifteen: The Formation of Destiny and Fortune

The flying sword is the divine instrument by which sword immortals attain the Dao. One must not wield it lightly; to move it requires utmost caution. Ruthlessness in killing is indeed necessary, yet indiscriminate slaughter can disturb one’s state of mind—except for those naturally inclined toward violence, whose hearts rejoice at the sight of blood.

Of course, Shangguan Chuanyun was not such a person. Having read the brutal methods of crafting paper men and paper horses in the “Secret Record of External Alchemy” by the Diviner, he discerned from the very essence of the words that its origin was the same as the Diviner’s. Thus, he was certain the work was indeed the Diviner’s own.

Once enlightened, Shangguan Chuanyun flicked a ball of fire from his fingertips toward the Diviner, reducing him to ashes in an instant. He intended to search the Diviner’s quarters.

Suddenly, Shangguan Qingyun spotted a faintly yellow bead amidst the ashes, picked it up, and handed it to Shangguan Chuanyun.

“Brother, look—what is this?”

Taking it from his brother, Shangguan Chuanyun examined the bead. It was plain and unremarkable, with a subtle yellow glow barely perceptible. Upon closer inspection, he found it to be crafted from minerals, bearing a trace of the Diviner’s aura. He immediately knew what it was and explained to Shangguan Qingyun,

“This is the core of an external elixir. It’s made by refining metals and minerals with special methods. When combined with the spirit, it can shift between real and illusory, be stored within the body, nourish it, and increase cultivation. Even those without any cultivation, if they know the method, possess the materials, and find a blessed place, can refine an external elixir, communicate with it through their spirit, and by daily sacrificial rites with their blood, gradually cultivate magical powers.”

Shangguan Chuanyun noticed the glow in Shangguan Qingyun’s eyes as he stared at the elixir core in his hand. He smiled inwardly and continued, “The methods of external alchemy vary in quality, depending on the materials. One starts with cinnabar, night sand, lead, mercury, and fuses them into a grain-sized core. Once absorbed into the body, it can roam freely within, marking the beginning of cultivation. If dissatisfied, one can further refine the core by the way of alchemy. This is the path taken by Daoists with limited resources.”

“Can I refine one, then?” Shangguan Qingyun was moved by what he heard, dizzy with awe at the marvels possessed by his brother and the Diviner, yet filled with envy. He dreamed of mastering such mysteries himself one day. Tales of immortal cultivation had circulated since ancient times, planting the dream in every youth’s heart—to be chosen by a sage, taught the art of flight and transformation, and to live freely as an immortal. Clearly, Shangguan Qingyun was tempted.

“You can,” Shangguan Chuanyun said, and at those words Shangguan Qingyun felt a surge of exhilaration.

But then, Shangguan Chuanyun added, “But children cannot cultivate.”

He saw how easily his brother was swept up in excitement, tending to forget the grave matters and precautions necessary for cultivation. He felt it necessary to temper his enthusiasm.

“Why not?” Shangguan Qingyun asked, looking aggrieved and disappointed.

Seeing his brother calm down, Shangguan Chuanyun chose his words carefully.

“We came here together today, and fate has a share for you. Yet to cultivate the Dao, one must accumulate virtue over many lifetimes, let it blossom, and when the time is ripe, encounter the true teachings. Upon receiving the true teachings, a seed of the Great Dao must be nurtured, and the Dao root cultivated before one can proceed. All who attain true cultivation are those blessed by immense fortune. Without such accumulation, one may progress halfway and stagnate; this must be treated with utmost care.”

He glanced at Shangguan Qingyun, who listened intently, and nodded in satisfaction.

“It is said: ‘If one’s virtue does not match their position, calamity will follow; if one’s conduct is disorderly, destruction will soon ensue.’ Thus, one’s virtue must be worthy of the Dao they pursue, for this is the enduring path. As the books often say, ‘the Dao dwells with the virtuous, and leaves the unworthy.’ It is not the Dao that chooses people, but people who cultivate the Dao.”

Having outlined the path, Shangguan Chuanyun looked at Shangguan Qingyun, who was deep in thought. He felt it necessary to discipline the child more, lest he grow into someone like their eldest brother, Shangguan Hongyun—prone to emotional instability and reckless actions.

Then he picked up the elixir core and examined it with his spiritual sense. Inside, it was bright and transparent, seamless, and radiated vitality like a living thing. Clearly, it was not something ordinary people could refine; it had a half-natural, half-artificial quality. It seemed someone intended to forge a golden elixir and then refine it into their own external elixir—a path from outer to inner. Yet, for some reason, it fell short of the golden elixir, and the creator failed to complete the refinement. The core ended up in the Diviner’s possession.

Using his spiritual sense, Shangguan Chuanyun saw several chaotic fields of energy on the surface, making it messy. One strand belonged to the Diviner, confirming the elixir core had passed through many hands. All had lacked proper method, refining it haphazardly, gaining only superficial power and a hint of supernatural ability—a waste of heavenly materials. Shangguan Chuanyun was grateful that only the surface had been refined; had the core been fully refined, the elixir would exist between real and illusory, able to escape and reincarnate even if its host was destroyed.

Had the Diviner truly completed the refinement, Shangguan Chuanyun would not have been his match. Seeing the chaotic energies on the surface, he felt troubled. If unpurged, they would leave hidden dangers in the cultivator’s heart, possibly leading to madness.

“It seems it must go through the furnace once more,” he mused, weighing the elixir core in his hand.

Shangguan Qingyun pondered for a while, still confused, and asked, “Brother, what are fortune and virtue? Are they related?”

“Oh, fortune is the predetermined measure in one’s fate—think of it as a cup of water: once used up, it’s gone. Virtue is the cup itself; some are large, some small. It’s the vessel for the Dao, hence ‘without virtue, one cannot contain the Dao.’” Shangguan Chuanyun explained slowly.

Shangguan Qingyun thought for a moment and asked, “Is there a way to increase it?”

Shangguan Chuanyun looked up at the towering city walls in the distance, recalling his past life—how he sought ways to prolong his own existence, to elevate his fate. Though not a master of cultivation, he excelled in the study of fate, even constructing the ancient armillary sphere used for calculating national destiny and geomancy. With the aid of modern science from his previous life, he made it even more precise.

Watching his brother’s sudden melancholy, as if he had witnessed the rise and fall of ages, Shangguan Qingyun felt a pang of compassion. He was about to change the subject when Shangguan Chuanyun spoke.

“Cultivate goodness to nourish virtue. This goodness is not mere kindness, but uprightness and sincerity, unity of body and mind, aligning with nature’s goodness. Nurture virtue to establish fate; this virtue is not moral conduct, but the root of humanity, the constant law of heaven and earth, the way of nature. Goodness accumulates as hidden and manifest virtue, becoming merit. This is a higher goodness, requiring observation of the heavenly Dao to practice the heavenly way. Virtue transforms into fortune, inner and outer, yin and yang. Such is the way of cultivation, and the principle of improving one’s destiny.”

Shangguan Qingyun felt he understood a little, but was at a loss to begin, so he asked, “What should I do?”

“Read more books,” replied Shangguan Chuanyun.

Shangguan Qingyun muttered, “But I haven’t seen you read much...”

Though he spoke softly, Shangguan Chuanyun heard him clearly. He glared at his brother and asked through clenched teeth, “What did you say?”

Seeing his brother’s embarrassed fury, Shangguan Qingyun hurriedly shook his head. “Nothing, nothing, I didn’t say anything.”

Shangguan Chuanyun paid it no mind and asked, holding the elixir core, “Do you want to cultivate?”

“Mm-hmm!” Shangguan Qingyun’s eyes lit up, nodding vigorously.

Shangguan Chuanyun gestured with the elixir core, sized Qingyun up, then turned and said, “Very well. Come to my room at midnight tonight.”

Shangguan Qingyun watched his brother scrutinize him, much like their mother choosing a wife for him. He recalled some famous libertine scholars in the capital who favored keeping boys for their amusement, and grew uneasy about his brother’s invitation to his room at midnight. His cheeks tightened, and he instinctively covered his backside, retreating two steps with a look of despair.

“Brother, what are you planning? You mustn’t do that to me.”

Seeing Qingyun’s reaction, Shangguan Chuanyun realized the boy’s imagination had gone astray and nearly coughed up blood. He grabbed Qingyun and knocked him on the head.

“If you don’t want to refine this elixir core, then don’t come.”

“But you mustn’t do that to me!” Qingyun protested, on the verge of tears.

Shangguan Chuanyun saw his brother still misunderstood him, and wondered what nonsense filled the boy’s head. He resisted the urge to give Qingyun a beating and said, exasperated,

“The Dao must not be lightly transmitted, nor the teachings passed to more than six ears. This has always been the rule among true cultivators—teaching is done with utmost caution, lest the heavenly secrets be leaked. Within a hundred feet, no other ears must be present. The Dao is imparted orally in close quarters, transmitted heart to heart. It’s nothing like your sordid thoughts.”

“Oh, alright then,” Qingyun replied, realizing he had misunderstood, feeling embarrassed.

The brothers then searched the Diviner’s quarters, finding several skeletons, severed limbs, and some unfinished wooden and clay puppets. It seemed the Diviner had concealed his practice of the evil path well.

Shangguan Chuanyun gathered these remains, purified the complete souls, and attended to the fragments as best he could. After reciting the “Deliverance Sutra,” the souls vanished.

Where they went was left to their own fate. The complete souls, if untainted by grave evil, would mostly return as humans. As for the fragments, Shangguan Chuanyun could not say. With so little soul left, it might take several reincarnations to recover; some, so weak, might be reborn as ants.

He then burned the bones to ashes, and afterward drew his three-foot sword, hacking and stabbing around the Diviner’s residence, thoroughly disrupting the energy field and erasing any traces left by himself and his brother.

Satisfied, he sensed the energies were now thoroughly confused, with no trace of the brothers remaining. Thus, no cultivator could use lingering information to discover anything about them.