Chapter 622: Chapter 622

It was the third watch of the night. The fog was thick, and the air was cold.

The stars above shone ever more brightly, while down below, every last lamp in the mountain village had long since been extinguished. Even the campfire beside the Daoist under the cedar tree in the terraced fields had gone out.

A breeze swept through, stirring the cold ashes of the fire.

In a place , Lady Calico always slept lightly. She instinctively opened her eyes, lifted her head slightly, and glanced around. Finding nothing amiss, she buried her head back down, resting it on her crossed front paws. She curled up tighter, and drifted back into deep sleep.

Meanwhile, the Daoist was sleeping right beside her. No danger approached, and no uninvited guest arrived. Only, there was now another Daoist beside the sleeping one.

This Daoist lowered his head to look at himself, then glanced at the cat curled up next to him sleeping like a child, before lifting his gaze to the awake swallow perched on a branch above. Then, he looked ahead at the cloud pool. Under the starlight, the world was dim, but amidst the darkness, the sea of clouds still stood out, slightly whiter than the surroundings.

Without hesitation, the Daoist turned and began descending the narrow path along the edge of the terraces.

Below was a cliff and an abyss. He was already surrounded by cloud and mist.

Yet his current state was a strange one, like an out-of-body experience, though in fact, it was a technique of dream-walking. He could feel the mist and the chill clearly, but everything felt slightly surreal, detached from the sensations of the physical body.

The cliffside was overgrown with needlegrass, which Lady Calico had braided into many beautiful twists and braids. Below, tangled trees grew in disorder, crossing each other chaotically.

The Daoist didn’t hesitate and lightly leapt into the air.

It was as if he weighed nothing, as if there were no gravity here, or perhaps the entire world was but a dream where one could come and go freely. He floated gently, gliding diagonally toward the cloud pool, effortlessly passing over the weeds and trees, and entered the sea of clouds.

The wind whispered in his ears, and it sounded oddly fascinating.

There had been no chill at first, only the sight of mist gliding past. But as soon as he thought it should be cold, the sensation came. It felt cool and fresh, yet even that coolness felt strange, as though it were a feeling conjured by the mind’s own imagination.

He then began to fall through the clouds. Song You could control the direction of his descent, but not his posture. Sometimes he fell upright, sometimes upside down, sometimes sideways. The cliff face, the trees, and the moss-covered stones all passed by in glimpses.

Most curiously, though the starlight should have long since been blocked by the clouds, it was still just as bright as it had been up on the mountain. It really did feel like a dream.

Such was the art of dream travel.

Compared to soul projection or astral travel, dream travel was more refined, and its greatest advantage was how hard it was to detect. Just like the swallow on the branch earlier, it had sensed something and awakened, but although it should have been able to see souls or spirits, it had completely failed to notice the Daoist drifting down below.

Secondly, one was less likely to encounter danger during dream travel.

Out-of-body soul projection left the spirit vulnerable to damage, while dream travel was, after all, just a dream. It only seemed like one had personally gone down to the cloud pool below the mountain, when in truth, it was a dream conjured atop the mountain by attuning to heaven and earth. At worst, you'd simply wake up, perhaps just with a bit of dizziness upon waking.

The Daoist kept descending.

In dreams, time was inherently vague. He didn’t know how long he had been falling, but somehow, he knew that he had already passed below the elevation of Bashu. It seemed this cloud pool, surrounded by towering cliffs, not only led to the ground below, but perhaps to a deep underground abyss whose depths were unknowable. The abyss should have been shrouded in darkness, yet in the dream, it was faintly visible in a hazy, indistinct way.

At last, the abyss seemed to reach a “bottom,” though not necessarily the real bottom. Only, the mist had finally come to an end.

Below was a pool of subterranean spring water, or perhaps a hidden underground river, vast enough to rival a lake. After all, the mountains above took Song You three full days to circle around. Who could say if the space down here was just as large, but it was certainly enormous. The lake gave off a chilling sensation, and its waters were crystal clear. Though it was ordinary water, it carried a trace of spiritual resonance.

Song You stopped falling and began gliding over the lake.

This space, which should have been pitch-dark, now glowed faintly. The Daoist flew close to the surface of the lake, erratically and without direction. Sometimes, he could even make out the tiny ripples on the water, though whether they had been there already or were stirred by his passing, he couldn’t tell.

He flew for who knew how long, He did not feel tired, but rather a sense of weariness, as though the wonder of it all had faded.

Still, the Daoist had found no trace of the so-called true dragon, nor of the final elemental spiritual resonance.

The Daoist paused midair and lowered his head to look down. He sighed and then slowly descended.

Just then, the surface of the lake rushed up toward him.

Splash! A sound of water breaking echoed through the space.

Up on the mountain, Song You’s eyes snapped open. But this time, a frown formed on his face.

Though it had been a dream travel technique, one that connected him with heaven and earth, and he could make the experience as vivid and accurate as if he was truly there with his cultivation, the fact that he had instantly awakened the moment he touched the water's surface was telling. It clearly indicated that something formidable, whether a being or an arrangement, lay beneath the water. In any case, it was not a place to be entered lightly.

Or perhaps... whatever lay beneath simply didn’t want to be intruded upon. Had he gone there with his actual body, trouble might already have arisen.

“...” Song You’s brows furrowed deeply as he fell into thought.

First, what exactly was down there? Just how powerful was it? If he truly descended, how would he deal with it? And what if conflict broke out, how should he respond?

Second, was what he just did unforgivably rude?

At his feet, the cat stirred as if sensing something. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, scanning the area. Spotting the Daoist awake, she blinked in surprise. Her drowsy gaze visibly sharpened and cleared.

“You’re not sleeping?”

“I did sleep. But I woke up again.”

“What woke you? Was it too cold?” The cat looked at the extinguished fire beside them, and at the pile of firewood already burned through that night. “If you’re cold, I will go chop some more wood to keep you warm.”

“It’s not that...” Song You continued pondering but answered truthfully, “I just had a dream. When the dream ended, I woke up.”

“What did you dream about?”

“Some interesting things.”

“Then go back to sleep.”

Hearing that, the cat gave her head a little shake, no longer worried. Her eyes quickly faded back into a sleepy haze, and she flopped her head down again, resting it on her soft little paws. She soon drifted back into deep sleep.

The Daoist, watching this, smiled gently. All the thoughts in his mind dissipated instantly. With peace returning to his heart, he closed his eyes and soon fell back asleep. This time, he slept until daybreak.

Mr. Liu came again, this time bringing a pot of wine and half a roast chicken.

“This damned weather... Spring’s been here for several days already, but it’s still this cold in the mornings and evenings. Some of the elders in the village insisted I stay for chicken and wine. When they thought of you, sir, cultivating out here at the edge of this cliff, they figured you’d be cold in the morning. They were worried about whether you were eating and sleeping well. So I brought you half a chicken and a pot of wine to warm you up.”

“Mr. Liu, your kindness is more than I can repay.”

“Oh, it’s nothing! It was just a small favor! Since you’re a cultivator, sir, let’s not get caught up in all that talk, it takes away from your immortal aura.” The middle-aged man laughed warmly, then asked, “Still not planning to leave? A couple more recluses left the mountain yesterday.”

“I’ll leave in a couple of days.”

“A couple more days, huh...”

Mr. Liu scratched his head. He didn’t really want to wait any longer, but he also didn’t want to leave Song You behind. He was tempted to go down the mountain, but then remembered the strange noises outside the mud hut the other night.

In the end, he hesitated briefly, then shook his head and laughed, “Then I guess I’ll have to mooch a few more meals. Let’s just hope those old-timers up here won’t be gossiping behind my back once I’m gone, calling me thick-skinned!”

“Many thanks, Mr. Liu.”

Not wanting to let the man stand for long, and since there weren’t any seats around, Song You invited him to sit on the woolen mat. Mr. Liu didn’t stand on ceremony and sat down cross-legged.

That wool mat, a gift from Prefect Yu, had rarely been used by anyone besides Song You.

The chicken, from a local free-range bird, was large, so even half of it was more than enough. Song You tore off a leg first and handed it to Lady Calico, then began eating as they waited for the sunrise.

Before long, an elderly man arrived. He wore a dark gray robe and had graying hair which was neatly combed. Clearly another mountain recluse, he had come specifically to seek out Song You.

“Daoist priest, you’re living quite well. You’re cultivating in a place of such beauty, watching the sea of clouds and waiting for the sunrise, with wine and meat at your side. This is truly the life of an immortal. I wonder if this old man might trouble you for a cup of wine?”

The recluses on this mountain were always informal. Over the past few days, some had already invited Song You to drink and eat. Naturally, he had no reason to refuse now.

So he invited the elder to sit on the wool mat and brought out a small bowl, pouring him a cup of wine.

“This wine and meat were brought to us by Mr. Liu from the village. He’s a generous and free-spirited man. Since we’ve met here, please, join us for a drink.”

“I am Guan Hong, once a Daoist myself. I cultivated at Lingqing Temple on Mount Huanglao in Yunzhou, under the Daoist name Qianmingzi. This meeting must be fate, especially now, when most others have left the mountain, and only a few stubborn ones like us remain still waiting. It makes the meeting even more meaningful. Might I ask your name, young Daoist?”

“My surname Song, given name You. My style name is Menglai. I cultivate in Lingquan County, Yizhou. I don’t yet have a Daoist title.”

“Why don’t you mention which temple you’re from, Daoist Master?”

“It’s called Hidden Dragon Temple.”

“Hidden Dragon Temple?” The elder paused with the bowl in hand just as he was about to take a sip. After a moment, he laughed and said, “So you’re waiting for the true dragon here, and the temple you belong to is called ‘Hidden Dragon Temple?’ Aren’t you afraid that the dragon below might find out and take offense?”

“You misunderstand,” Song You replied sincerely. “The ‘hidden’ here refers to dormancy, like hibernation or rest. The name contains no disrespect at all[1], quite the opposite. It’s precisely out of reverence for the true dragon that we embedded such meaning in our temple’s name. Just as the emperors of the mortal world call themselves ‘True Dragon, Son of Heaven,’ we too acknowledge its power.”

“Haha, so that’s the meaning...”

Only then did the elder lower his head and drink his wine.

It was rough rice wine, but had a unique flavor.

The boundary between mist and clarity hovered right beside them. The fog rolled in like waves, sometimes swallowing the group entirely, sometimes retreating to reveal their figures atop the clouds. As they ate roast chicken and sipped wine, chatting idly, the whole scene exuded an air of ease and transcendence.

1. The old man misunderstood the “伏” (fú) in 伏龙观 (Hidden Dragon Temple) to mean “to subdue” or “to suppress”, which can carry connotations of dominance or control. In that context, he thought the temple’s name implied they were “subduing a dragon”, which would be quite bold and possibly even offensive, especially if the real dragon beneath the mountain found out. That’s why he jokingly remarked that calling the temple 伏龙观 while waiting for the true dragon might anger it.

However, Song You clarified that “伏” in this context means “蛰伏”, referring to dormancy or hibernation, which is a respectful acknowledgment of the dragon’s resting state, not an act of dominance. ☜