Chapter Five: The Daoist Arts of the Three Purities

Outside, the world was rife with undercurrents, yet atop the Eastern Kunlun Mountains, where the Three Pure Ones dwelled, tranquility reigned.

Even now, Tongtian was still troubled by questions of identity. Of all the people to be reborn as, why had he ended up as the ill-fated Lord Tongtian? Tongtian's power was formidable among the saints, yet it was this very strength that ultimately led to the downfall of the Sect of Severance.

One must speak of the treasures used to anchor the fortunes of each sect. The Supreme Lord of Morality, Laozi of the Supreme Purity, used the Taiji Diagram to suppress his sect’s luck; Yuanshi Tianzun of the Jade Purity employed the Pangu Banner for the same purpose; in the West, the two sages, the Receiving Lord and the Bodhi Lord, relied on the Twelve-Rank Lotus of Merit to stabilize their teachings.

But as for Tongtian, he had chosen the Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation to safeguard his sect’s destiny, a choice most unwise. The Four Immortal-Slaying Swords were bestowed upon him by the Dao Ancestor Hongjun at the Treasure Division Cliff; the Immortal-Slaying Formation was the foremost killing array of ancient times, originally obtained by the Demon Ancestor Rahu. After the war between Dao and Demon, with Rahu’s death and dissolution, the formation fell into Hongjun’s hands.

Its sharpness and might were unrivaled, earning the renown: “No less than four saints may break this array.” With its power, Tongtian had once stood against all four Western and Eastern saints. Though ultimately he failed, the formidable power of the Immortal-Slaying Formation needed no further proof. If not for its inability to stabilize fortune, it would be the ultimate treasure.

It was precisely this lack of a fortune-suppressing artifact that weighed on Tongtian’s mind. Yet, he thought of another treasure, one of considerable might. Of course, there were many other reasons behind the downfall of the Sect of Severance, which need not be detailed here.

Turning to cultivation methods, Laozi’s techniques emphasized the art of alchemy and flexibility in spellcraft, as well as prowess in close combat. Consider how powerful Yang Jian’s Nine Revolutions Mystical Art was—he shone brilliantly during the Investiture of the Gods; in Journey to the West, Laozi’s two spirit boys, Golden Horn and Silver Horn, used their mastery of spells to chase the Monkey King, who had also cultivated the Mystical Art, all over the world. Not to mention Laozi’s mount, the Azure Ox.

As for Yuanshi Tianzun, his expertise lay in escape arts, talisman magic, and the use of magical instruments. During the great tribulation of the Investiture, the twelve golden immortals of the Chan Sect wielded talismans and treasures to such effect that the disciples of the Sect of Severance grew fearful—not for lack of cultivation, but from improper use of magical instruments, resulting in their destruction.

Thus, later generations of cultivators learned to value spiritual treasures as dearly as their own lives; possessing such an artifact was like fighting two opponents at once—who could resist such an advantage?

The Western Religion, on the other hand, specialized in drawing followers from the East. Yet it, too, had its unique aspects, producing such renowned works as the Diamond Sutra and the Tripitaka.

As a modern soul transplanted into this world, one must be prepared for anything; to survive, every detail must be carefully calculated—this was the time traveler’s advantage.

Not long ago, the three of them had discussed their respective Daoist arts.

“What is the Dao?” Laozi was the first to ask.

“The Dao follows nature,” Yuanshi replied.

“Heaven moves with strength, and the noble man strives ceaselessly!” Tongtian declared.

Having spoken, Laozi and Yuanshi both stared at Tongtian, their gazes so direct that he felt a bit embarrassed. Then, they closed their eyes and began to meditate, struck by the profundity and force of Tongtian’s words, leaving him alone to watch as they sought enlightenment.

No, I must find a way to learn their cultivation methods, Tongtian thought to himself.

“My dear elder brothers,” he said hesitantly, “it’s rather dull sitting here alone. Could you perhaps let me have a look at your cultivation techniques, just to learn from them?”

In later ages, one’s cultivation method was more precious than life itself—rarely would anyone share it, not even with their most beloved disciples, always holding something back. The importance of a technique could not be overstated. A single great technique could create a peerless genius, but if one's enemy learned it, they would search for its flaws and destroy that genius utterly.

So Tongtian made his request with the utmost caution.

It is said the Three Pure Ones sprang from Pangu’s primordial spirit, though each inherited different aspects.

“I wondered what you were hinting at—our dear Lingbao is being like this again. Here, take it.” Yuanshi, after exchanging a glance and a nod with Laozi, produced a bamboo slip from his palm and sent it flying to Tongtian.

Under Tongtian’s influence, Yuanshi and Laozi had slowly changed in temperament, which was why Yuanshi now spoke in this manner.

Seeing the two bamboo slips approach, Tongtian was wild with joy—at last, happiness had come to his sect!

Whether it was Laozi’s alchemy or Yuanshi’s talismanic arts, Tongtian eagerly studied them all. Combined with his own mastery of formations, the Three Pure Ones had finally gathered the full spectrum of Daoist arts.

Now, having reached the Celestial Immortal realm, the Three Pure Ones had become the foremost masters of this land. Thus, when not cultivating, Tongtian busied himself with experiments—refining the essence of earth into cauldrons with vital energy, tossing in millennia-old ginseng and vermilion fruits to concoct elixirs for amusement, if nothing else to pass the time.

At other moments, he performed tricks—summoning rain, tunneling through the earth with talismans—since there was no one to interfere. Wasn’t Yuanshi supposed to be the strictest? And what was he doing now? Reading the Dao De Jing, which Tongtian had written down from memory of the future, together with Laozi! At first sight of the text, Laozi’s eyes had glazed over, demanding to know its source. Naturally, Tongtian could not admit he had copied it from Laozi’s own works, so he claimed it was a legacy from the Great God Pangu. Laozi and Yuanshi could only lament, “Pangu, why are you so partial? Only our little brother understands us!” Thus, Tongtian was let off from any strictness.

Kunlun Mountain was soon awash in medicinal fumes—the result of failed alchemical experiments. Tongtian also heard that later travelers who crossed over all vied to earn merit as the first lecturer after the world’s creation, so he set about his own grand plan for merit.

“Hey, I’m talking to you—lying there, wherever you stand, you’re blocking their view!” On a small meadow of Kunlun Mountain, Tongtian scolded a peculiar elephant.

Every manner of beast and bird, all the spiritual creatures within the great formation of Eastern Kunlun, had come to attend his lecture, for Tongtian was well-liked.

Arranging the altar, lighting incense, and seating himself cross-legged upon a cushion, Tongtian felt every bit the image of a grand master.

“Silence!” At his command, the cacophony of the assembled beasts ceased at once.

All knew that there were three great immortals on Kunlun, but this speaker was the most approachable. Suddenly, they realized that this was a rare opportunity—how could they let it slip by? The field fell utterly silent.

It seemed that being a teacher was hard work, Tongtian mused, recalling his own mischief as a student and feeling a twinge of regret. Still, having begun, he was determined to do his best.

He would win honor for himself and fortune for the Three Pure Ones. Thus began Tongtian’s greatest undertaking—becoming a teacher among men.