Chapter 7: The Monks and Taoists Who Fled in Fear

After a night of lively conversation, when morning came, Du Yuan noticed that the mule caravan members regarded him with even greater reverence.

This puzzled Du Yuan.

He thought to himself, “They know I eat, sleep, and drink just like them. They shouldn’t still see me as some distant celestial being but merely as a somewhat capable person, right?”

He didn’t understand but felt it was inappropriate to ask.

Soon enough, Du Yuan discovered the reason. While washing up, he overheard Old Zhao whisper to a few younger men:

“You don’t understand. I heard from the village elders that the master hasn’t simply transcended the mundane; he has already reached the realm where a mountain is still a mountain, and water remains water.”

What?

Is that really how you see it?

No wonder you all seem so strange! But your village elders do seem quite knowledgeable—knowing that a mountain is a mountain and water is water.

Throughout their lives, they had seen countless statues of gods and Buddha temples, met many Taoist priests and monks, and traversed innumerable mountains and rivers.

Yet, they had never truly encountered demons or genuine masters.

So, whenever legends appeared, they grew ever more exalted in their hearts.

After a long chat the previous night, Du Yuan had learned quite a lot.

But most importantly, he had obtained from the mule caravan information about where he might secure travel permits.

That place was Qiaoshui Town, not far from here.

The wealthiest man in Qiaoshui Town was a well-known local gentry.

Though not quite of noble lineage, he was close to the status of a distinguished family and held considerable influence in Qing County.

After confirming the direction, Du Yuan prepared to depart.

Before leaving, Du Yuan earnestly admonished the mule caravan and the mule demon:

“You must know, your encounters are bound by karmic ties from past lives. Therefore, you must support one another rather than depend on each other.”

“Humans must not oppress horses, nor horses humans.”

“You must carefully discern the proper balance, so that your family may prosper for generations and accumulate lasting blessings.”

All present, including the mule demon, bowed deeply, accepting his teachings.

“We will respectfully follow the master’s guidance!”

At last, Du Yuan, still uneasy, added:

“This is not just to be remembered in words, but in your hearts—so that future generations remember it too. Otherwise, this good deed could turn into a disaster!”

Everyone vowed they would not dare forget.

Only then did Du Yuan clasp his hands and say:

“Then I bid you farewell.”

The mule caravan and the mule demon all bowed in return:

“We respectfully see the master off!”

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Though Du Yuan quickly found the narrow path indicated by the mule caravan, it was barely passable.

It was vastly different from any road he had imagined.

After walking for quite some time, he still had not found the so-called Qiaoshui Town.

Had he not spotted the canal the mule caravan mentioned, he might have thought he was lost.

Fortunately, after walking a few hundred meters further, he spotted several hurried travelers in the distance.

Seeing living people, Du Yuan hurried forward and asked:

“Fellow villager, fellow villager, may I ask if Qiaoshui Town is ahead?”

The few people he stopped looked displeased at the question but still answered:

“It’s about a few hundred meters ahead. Who are you?”

Seeing he was in the right place, Du Yuan bowed and said:

“I’m heading to Qiaoshui Town.”

Hearing this, the group’s faces all changed.

“Oh, young man, you must not go there!”

“Yes, yes, don’t go, don’t go!”

“Why not? Is it bandits?”

Du Yuan’s expression darkened; he knew that in ancient villages and towns, bandits were the greatest fear.

These bandits would rob and then disappear into the mountains, beyond the reach of the county authorities, who could neither punish nor pursue them.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just... ah, anyway, you mustn’t go!”

They would not say exactly why and repeatedly urged Du Yuan not to go.

After some time, Du Yuan and these people both gave up—the locals unwilling to speak, and Du Yuan unwilling to press.

They parted ways; they quickly left with their burdens, while Du Yuan, baffled, continued onward.

When he finally reached Qiaoshui Town, Du Yuan realized it was less a town than a slightly larger village.

Divided by a small creek, the village north of the stream was larger but mostly covered with thatched huts; the southern side was smaller but featured brick and tile houses and one large mansion that stood out prominently.

Du Yuan guessed that mansion belonged to the town’s wealthiest man mentioned by the mule caravan.

As he pondered how to approach the manor, he noticed several monks and Taoist priests rushing out of the village entrance.

Behind them trailed an elderly woman, clutching tightly, unwilling to let them leave.

Behind the old woman stood a timid little boy and a well-dressed man.

What puzzled Du Yuan was that, in such a scene, many curious villagers should have gathered to watch.

Why was there no one else?

Recalling the earlier odd behavior of those villagers, Du Yuan frowned and stepped forward to inquire.

Before he could approach, he heard the monks and priests shouting:

“No, we really can’t! We don’t want to lose our lives!”

“Let go, you old hag! Let go quickly! At worst, we’ll return your money.”

With that, they broke free from the woman’s grasp and tossed a large handful of copper coins on the ground.

Immediately, the monks and priests fled like ghosts.

The elderly woman fell to the ground hard but still tried to grab them back.

“Masters, please, I beg you, don’t leave like this!”

The more she pleaded, the faster they ran, vanishing so quickly that even Du Yuan lost sight of them.

Increasingly perplexed, Du Yuan looked at the old woman, who was now clutching the child and crying bitterly because of their departure.

Moved, Du Yuan picked up the scattered copper coins and handed them to her, then helped her to her feet.

“Ma’am, what has happened here?”

The old woman seemed not to hear him, only staring fixedly at Du Yuan’s cropped hair.

Then she grabbed his wrist, knelt down again, and cried out:

“You are a monk, aren’t you? You’ve come here because you heard about what happened here, haven’t you? I beg you, please help me!”

“Ma’am, please rise, please rise.”

But she ignored him, continuing to kowtow desperately, pleading for his help.

At the same time, Du Yuan saw many eyes peering from the thatched houses around.

So the villagers had not fled but were mostly hiding indoors.

Recalling the previous strange events, Du Yuan felt a growing unease.

He instinctively wanted to leave, but seeing the old woman kneeling and repeatedly kowtowing, he hesitated.

Thinking of his own grandmother, who had raised him as her only grandchild, he could not bear to leave.

He dared not imagine how she would feel if he disappeared.

Sighing deeply, Du Yuan helped the old woman up and said:

“Ma’am, please tell me exactly what has happened.”