"Young man, what are your impressions of this place?" the old Taoist asked.
"Mysterious and unfathomable." Yang Xi could not discern anything specific, only a profound sense of mystery. In particular, the seven lanterns surrounding the old Taoist reminded him of the Kongming lanterns he used to release with his wife on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month.
"Correct, mysterious. Let this old Taoist explain: this is the Seven-Star Fate-Altering Array, a formation capable of defying the heavens. Passed down by Zhuge Wolong, it has the power to borrow life, alter life, and claim life." The old Taoist’s voice cut off abruptly at this point.
Yang Xi did not understand what he meant, but after experiencing the hardships of life, Ji Cheng was no longer impatient; he knew there would be more to follow.
"You are a fine young man. Are you not afraid that this array might take your life?" the old Taoist asked.
"Life is death, and death is life. What joy is there in living, and what bitterness in death? If you could deliver me from this sea of suffering, Taoist, I might even have to thank you." Yang Xi had long felt lost regarding his own existence; he spoke his mind calmly, thinking that if the old man wanted him dead, accepting it peacefully would be a form of liberation.
"Life and death are interdependent and mutually transformative. There is no absolute life, nor absolute death. One should transcend attachment to life and death and face them with a tranquil heart. It seems you have already found your way, young man! However, I did not prepare all of this last night to grant you release, but to alter your fate. You possess both malevolent energy and righteousness. I wasn't certain last night, but had you lacked righteousness, the array I performed today would have been fatal. Since you are full of integrity, I shall defy the heavens today to alter your destiny," the old Taoist declared.
"Sit in the center. Close your eyes, do not look, do not ask, and do not speak," the old man emphasized.
Yang Xi followed his instructions, closing his eyes as he sat amidst the seven Kongming lanterns.
The old Taoist held his whisk, his fingers moving in a rhythmic calculation as he paced, chanting scriptures: "The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name... Misfortune, therein lies fortune; fortune, therein lies misfortune... Being and non-being produce each other; difficulty and ease complement each other; long and short define each other; high and low depend on each other..."
Listening in a daze, Yang Xi gradually drifted into sleep. Seeing him asleep, the corners of the old Taoist’s mouth curved upward in a slight smile.
Yang Xi dreamt a long, long dream. In it, he and Xiali had a lovely daughter. He was chasing after her, and she kept looking back, laughing, "Daddy, catch me, catch me!" But Yang Xi could never clearly see her face, and no matter how he ran, she remained just out of reach. They were in a dense forest, silent and still, save for the occasional bird call and the sound of the wind.
At this moment, the old Taoist took out a piece of yellow paper and drew a talisman on it with cinnabar ink. He then placed the talisman on the forehead of the sleeping Yang Xi and began to chant. As the incantation continued, a faint golden light gradually emanated from Yang Xi’s body. Seeing this, the old Taoist nodded with satisfaction and sat cross-legged on the ground.
At noon the next day, Yang Xi awoke to find the seven lanterns extinguished. The old Taoist remained sitting on his meditation cushion.
"You may leave. As long as you keep kind thoughts in your heart and do not commit evil deeds for the next three years, the malevolent energy within you will be completely consumed by the fate-altering talisman I have planted in you. Our karmic connection has ended; do not return to this temple, and I shall not see you again." Yang Xi felt deeply grateful, but the old man’s words were explicit, devoid of any cryptic Zen riddles. Yang Xi analyzed every word, finding no hidden implications, so he bowed respectfully and took his leave.
When Yang Xi was a kilometer away from the temple, he heard three distinct chimes: "Dong, dong, dong," then again, "Dong, dong, dong," and a final, "Dong, dong, dong." Someone in the temple had passed away. Yang Xi wanted to turn back, but the old man’s words echoed in his mind. He was entirely certain that the one who had passed was the old Taoist, but his bow had been a promise that their connection was severed and he would not return.
After a long moment of contemplation, Yang Xi knelt and kowtowed three times toward the direction of the temple from afar, then drove away.