Under Er Mao's guidance, we ventured into the mountains. The path was far from easy; there was no road in these mountains, and we relied solely on direction.
After approximately three hours of trekking, a towering peak, piercing the clouds, appeared in the distance. The summit was covered in snow, and at its base flowed a clear stream, its waters gurgling with a crisp sound.
The mountainside was blanketed with lush green trees, and the calls of birds occasionally echoed through the forest.
It was already evening. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the mountain scenery transformed into a breathtaking spectacle.
Er Mao told us that the Qing Guan monastery was situated on that very mountain. He also mentioned that on a previous visit, they had discovered an ancient tomb at the foot of the mountain, but found nothing of value inside.
This place, with its picturesque scenery, suggested that anyone buried here in ancient times was likely a recluse. Such individuals typically lived a simple life, devoid of worldly possessions, so it was natural that nothing of great worth would be found.
However, the Xuan Jia Sect's persistence in finding even this remote location was truly remarkable.
Upon reaching the mountain's base, we quickly spotted a dirt path, clearly man-made, with occasional flagstones interspersed along its route.
Following this path upwards for about an hour, we reached the mountainside, where an ancient-style Taoist monastery soon materialized before us.
Its roof was covered with blue tiles, and it was encircled by a sturdy earthen wall. Copper hooks were embedded in the wall, and a simple, ancient gate was adorned with two copper bells.
Entering the monastery, we found ourselves in a spacious courtyard. At the far end of the courtyard stood a main hall, its doors wide open. Several Taoist priests were gathered around a stove, cooking.
Apart from the main hall, the monastery had one room on each side, making it quite compact.
There was no electricity here. I noticed several oil lamps lit within the main hall.
The main hall enshrined the Three Pure Ones, whose statues appeared quite aged, their colors already showing signs of weathering.
The three Taoist priests seated in the hall seemed surprised by the arrival of our group of strangers.
Among the three, the youngest appeared to be in his late thirties, while the age of the elder was impossible to guess. He had a full head of white hair, white beards, and his Taoist robes were somewhat worn.
"What brings you here?" the younger Taoist priest asked us.
"Venerable masters, we are here to find someone," I replied politely, clasping my hands in a respectful gesture.
"Looking for someone?" the Taoist priest asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Who are you looking for?"
"May I ask if there is a Taoist priest named Chen here?" I inquired.
Upon hearing my question, subtle shifts in expression flickered across the faces of the three.
"Are you here for Professor Chen?" the younger Taoist priest asked.
Professor Chen?
I hadn't expected Old Chen to be a professor.
Unsure if I had found the right person, I decided to proceed with a confident tone. "Yes, may I know where he is?"
"You have come too late. Professor Chen ascended two years ago," the younger Taoist priest stated.
I was taken aback. Old Chen was dead?
This was an outcome I had never anticipated. I had considered many possibilities, but death had never crossed my mind!
Logically, Old Chen should have been around my father's age. How could he have died so soon?
As if sensing my bewilderment, the younger Taoist priest explained, "Two years ago, Professor Chen encountered a landslide while gathering herbs on the mountain and was buried. We have been trying to contact his family and have gone down the mountain several times, but we haven't found them..."
He then looked directly at me and asked, "Are you Professor Chen's family?"
I found myself at a loss for words. I was still processing the news of Old Chen's death, which meant my trip had been in vain.
The wasted trip was secondary; the primary concern was that the clue about my father had been severed!
I felt a sense of disorientation. I had made many plans and even considered identifying the group who had sought out my father back then and how to exact revenge.
But now, it seemed my assumptions had been too simplistic.
Seeing my silence, Fatty interjected, "Yes, yes, this is Professor Chen's nephew, his family."
The younger Taoist priest, mistaking my dazed silence for grief over Professor Chen's passing, offered some words of comfort. "You have arrived at a fortunate time. Professor Chen left behind some personal belongings, which we've kept as we didn't know how to handle them. Since you are here, you can take these items with you."
The word "belongings" jolted me back to reality. "Thank you, venerable master," I said.
"Very well, follow us."
The younger Taoist priest led us into a simple earthen room. Apart from a bed and a table, there was nothing else. The table was piled high with books.
Many of them were ancient texts. A quick glance revealed that many were related to religious studies.
The younger Taoist priest informed me that Old Chen was deeply knowledgeable in religious matters. He had lived there for many years, dedicating himself to the study of religion.
He added that these books and his notes were Old Chen's belongings, and we should take them back for safekeeping.
It felt improper to pose as Old Chen's family, but on second thought, since Old Chen had passed away two years ago without anyone coming to look for him, it was likely he had no close family. It would be better for me to take these items back.
I asked Fatty to offer some incense money to the younger Taoist priest, stating that we would stay the night and requesting some food.
However, the Taoist priest refused any payment, explaining that money was of no use to him. They lived self-sufficiently on the mountain, and we were welcome to make ourselves comfortable. He assured us he would bring some food once it was ready.
"May I ask for your name, venerable master?"
"My Taoist name is Yun He."
"Thank you, Venerable Yun He," I said, bowing my hands.
"You are welcome. Please rest here. We do not have extra accommodations, but I will bring a brazier over shortly," Yun He replied.
I nodded.
After Yun He left, Er Mao and Fatty stood by the doorway, smoking and chatting idly.
Song Bing sat on the wooden bed, recuperating. I began sifting through the books and notes on the table, searching for any information about my father. After a considerable search, I found nothing.
As frustration began to set in, I discovered a notebook. It looked strikingly familiar, identical to the one I carried with me; they even had the same cover!
I had a notebook belonging to my father, whose contents I couldn't understand. The only part I could comprehend were the numerous entries about the Hou Sui Pearl.
Now, finding a notebook of identical appearance here filled me with a surge of excitement.
I quickly retrieved the notebook and opened it. It was filled with dense script.
The handwriting was exceptionally beautiful, a stark contrast to my father's notebook.