Chapter Twenty-Four: White Lotus

“That Liu Bao was indeed manipulated by the White Lotus Sect.”

Speaking of this, Qian Xuanzhong’s spirits soared, clearly recalling the extraordinary events he experienced, and revealing he had quite a history with the White Lotus Sect.

“After separating from the Daoist, I went to the county office of Shiya County. I spent ten copper coins to hire a street beggar to carry Liu Bao’s severed head to the office and report to the authorities.

It turned out just as the Daoist predicted—the White Lotus Sect had no collusion with the government, at least not in Shiya nor anywhere in Guangyong. They hid in the shadows, their influence not particularly strong.”

As Qian Xuanzhong recounted, Chen Yu gradually pieced together the whole affair.

It was late March. The White Lotus Sect had used their wealth to buy off many martial artists from other prefectures in the Western Province, but most were of the lowest rank, hardly worth mentioning.

Take Liu Bao, for instance—not even a minor master of internal force, and in the prosperous city of Songcheng, his name barely registered.

Such people lacked resolve; being bought and manipulated was hardly surprising.

The real issue lay in what they did after—acts so heinous they beggared belief.

“You don’t know, Daoist Chen, but I went to several other counties afterward. These people’s traces are everywhere in Guangyong, and even in the major prefectures of the Western Province.”

Chen Yu understood the implication: their murderous deeds were too shocking, spread throughout the provinces. He listened quietly, still unable to fathom why the White Lotus Sect would expend so much to buy up martial artists just to send them to remote villages for slaughter and chaos. What did they hope to gain?

Qian Xuanzhong couldn’t explain either. He had fought the White Lotus followers many times, slain numerous villains, but their true motives remained elusive.

It seemed as if they simply wished to muddy the waters.

“Two thousand taels of silver in gold—that’s no small sum…”

But thinking it over, there weren’t many gangs worthy of the White Lotus Sect’s money. The mighty were untouchable, the weak unworthy. Only those like Liu Bao’s group—not important enough to attract the big names, but among ordinary martial artists, with three minor masters holding the fort, they were a moderate force.

“Songcheng…” Chen Yu mused. This city, located in Taiding Prefecture, was renowned—especially for its Red Street.

Near Taoyang, General Song, fishing in troubled waters…

He felt he was on the verge of grasping something, but the sensation slipped away, settling back in his heart.

He drank some tea and continued to listen as Qian Xuanzhong recounted his stirring, tumultuous adventures.

“The White Lotus Sect is truly abhorrent. Once, I encountered them outside a village, saw them brandishing butcher knives, and I dashed in…”

His voice flowed, vivid and lively, as if placing the listener right in the midst of the action.

---

Unexpectedly, after earning reputations as a martial arts expert, young hero, compassionate soul, and seasoned physician, Qian had now acquired a new title: eloquent storyteller.

Chen Yu marvelled once more at his versatility, feeling almost compelled to applaud.

Beside them, unable to bear the constant chatter of the blue-robed swordsman, Daoist Jiang seized a moment when Qian’s mouth ran dry to interject.

“White Lotus Sect? Are you and Qian referring to the one from Hejian?”

“Exactly,” Qian replied, eager to resume his story, but Jiang laughed and interrupted.

“It’s really them. When I went to the Central Plains years ago, I even joined them for a while—it’s been seven or eight years now.”

What, a White Lotus member right before their eyes?

Qian Xuanzhong and Chen Yu exchanged looks, momentarily dumbfounded.

“Hahaha, what’s wrong, think I’m rambling?”

After a hearty laugh, Jiang began his tale. The more they listened, the stranger their expressions became, for the White Lotus he described seemed very different from the one they knew.

…

The White Lotus Sect, originally known as the Holy Void Sect—also called Holy Lotus or Holy Mother—emerged at the end of the previous dynasty, some thirty years ago, when a yellow-robed Daoist claiming to be the Holy Duke of White Lotus appeared in public.

Under his guidance, the White Lotus doctrine was perfected and spread, attracting followers amidst the chaos of war.

According to Daoist Jiang, the original teachings of the White Lotus came mostly from Daoism, particularly the Qingwei branch, not the current muddled, indistinguishable hodgepodge.

What is Qingwei? The heart containing heaven and earth, seeking purity.

They valued service and goodness. The peaceful served porridge, the suffering served their hearts, the wealthy served rice, grain, and silver, and officials served righteousness.

The White Lotus was founded in the Central Plains. In its early days, it maintained ties with Zhengyang Temple, Zhenwu Mountain, and the like, with disciples visiting for cultivation.

Daoist Jiang’s training coincided with the tenure of the third Holy Duke. Then, the White Lotus was a legitimate folk Daoist sect.

But at some point—perhaps six or seven years ago, or maybe four or five—Jiang had already returned to the southwest, parted ways with the sect. From afar, he heard rumors of internal upheaval: unscrupulous types, long hidden, seized control of the lineage, acting recklessly, their ambitions boundless.

“So you’re saying the White Lotus started as a good sect?”

Qian Xuanzhong looked incredulous, having dealt too often with the sect to know its current character.

To call it a Daoist sect would insult the Daoist tradition.

---

Rape, pillage, arson, robbery, extermination of households—there was nothing they wouldn’t do, a den of pure evil.

“I know little about the White Lotus now. My master called me home for urgent affairs, so I left quickly and paid no heed to its changes.”

Daoist Jiang sighed. He hadn’t joined out of naivety, but because many like-minded people were there. Sadly, the sect now was nothing like what he remembered.

Seeing the middle-aged Daoist’s nostalgic expression, Chen Yu ordered a pot of plum wine; the three raised their cups together.

Sour and sweet, not bland.

Only lacking a bit of the taste of true wine.

They chatted about everything under the sun, mostly Jiang and Qian speaking, Chen Yu listening.

He chimed in occasionally, making the blue-robed swordsman laugh all the more heartily.

Compared to the other two, his life had indeed been much calmer, but he didn’t mind, nor envy their twists and turns.

Life’s richness didn’t always require upheaval.

…

“Let’s gather again in the future!”

“Farewell for now, don’t dwell.”

“Safe travels, friend. Qian, I’ll keep that bronze sword. When next I visit Qiyang, I’ll pay my respects.”

“Hahaha, Daoist Chen, do come. I may lack much at home, but my vegetarian dishes are better than those in Pingcheng.”

All things must come to an end; each had their own path.

Back at Chengyu Courtyard, Chen Yu packed the four books in a cloth bundle, then immediately set out to find the location of the Lingshen Fang Library, full of excitement.

He hoped to find more medical texts and Daoist classics on the five organs, so he could explore further the functions of the other organs.

For now, the only certainty was that the liver governed the absorption and strengthening of spiritual fluid.