Chapter 2 — Azure Cloud

The Canglan Mountains rose sheer and towering, crouching like a tiger over the Central Plains. On the mountain's shaded side ran a great river called the Hongchuan; on its sunlit side lay the key town of Heyin, which gripped the throat of the realm and commanded a position of vital strategic importance.

The Canglan range stretched a hundred li, its peaks rising and falling in waves. Of these, the highest were seven, so tall they pierced the clouds; on ordinary days one saw only white clouds girdling the mountainsides, never the true face of the summits. The mountains were dense with forest, threaded with plunging waterfalls and fantastic crags, and teemed with rare birds and strange beasts. In all the world, the scenery was renowned for its secluded, perilous, and wondrous beauty.

Yet what was more renowned still was the sect of immortal cultivators that dwelt upon this mountain: the Canglan Sect.

The Qingyun lineage had a long history; two thousand years and more had passed since its founding, and it stood today as the foremost of the righteous path. It was said that the founding patriarch had begun as a wandering physiognomist, a man who had spent half his life in poverty and frustration, his talents unrecognized. In his forty-ninth year, while roaming the four quarters, he came by chance to the Canglan Mountains and saw at a glance that the range was a concentration of celestial beauty, a gathering-place of the world's vital essence, a site beyond compare. He climbed the mountain at once, fed on wind and dew, and cultivated the Way. Before long, deep within the range, in a hidden cave, he came upon an ancient scroll with no title, inscribed with every manner of method and wondrous art; its language was knotty and obscure, yet its uses were inexhaustible and its power immense.

The physiognomist, having met with this stroke of fortune, gave himself wholly to its study. Twenty years slipped by, and when he had gained some mastery he emerged. Through several turns of fortune in the martial world, though he could not dominate all beneath heaven, he became a power in his region. Thereupon he founded his sect upon the Canglan Mountains and named it Qingyun. Because the ancient scroll's teachings were close to those of the Daoists, he dressed as a Daoist and styled himself "Canglanzi"; later generations of disciples mostly honored him as "Zhenren Qingyun."

Canglanzi lived to the age of three hundred and sixty-seven. In his lifetime he took ten disciples, and as he lay dying he instructed them: "All the learning of my half a lifetime lies in physiognomy, and I was especially skilled in reading the feng shui of sites. These Canglan Mountains are a rare spiritual ground in this world. My Qingyun lineage holds this mountain, and in days to come we shall surely flourish. You must never abandon it. Remember this, remember this!"

The ten disciples nodded, fully convinced, and Canglanzi passed quietly away. Yet in the hundred years that followed—whether Heaven mocked them, or Canglanzi's art had simply been poor—the Canglan Sect not only failed to prosper but dwindled by the day.

Of the ten disciples, two died young, and four perished in vendettas and duels of the martial world. Of the survivors, one was crippled and one vanished, leaving only two branches to carry on. Fifty years passed in this way, and then a catastrophe and earthquake such as the region had never known struck within a hundred li of the mountain: torrents burst forth, the earth heaved, and countless perished—and another branch was extinguished. The single surviving line was limited in aptitude and low in skill, long since bereft of Canglanzi's former glory. Because of that ancient scroll, moreover, it drew the covetous attacks of outsiders, and after several bloody battles, but for a few formidable warding arts and dharma treasures Canglanzi had left behind, the Canglan Sect would likely have been wiped from the earth.

This state of affairs persisted for a full four hundred years. The Canglan Sect showed no sign of recovery; one might almost call it "lingering on at death's door." In the end they were bullied even at their own gates: of the seven peaks of Qingyun, all but the principal peak, Jietian, were occupied by outsiders, among them bandits and fierce outlaws who made them strongholds and raided the countryside, running amok beyond all law. Those who did not know the truth often mistook the Canglan Sect for having fallen so low; the Canglan disciples argued their case at length, and some harbored the will to slay the foe and clear their name, but their will outran their strength—a pitiful, lamentable thing. To think on it even now, those were truly the bitterest days of the Qingyun lineage.

Not until thirteen hundred years before the present did the situation change.

Perhaps Canglanzi's art had finally proved itself, or Heaven had tired of tormenting the Canglan Sect, for at this time there emerged from the eleventh generation of disciples a figure of dazzling talent and peerless leadership: the Daoist Qingye. Qingye had been born to a poor family surnamed Ye, in his youth a destitute scholar of surpassing intelligence who nonetheless failed the examinations again and again. By chance he was taken as the final disciple of Wufangzi, tenth head of the Canglan Sect; he was then but twenty-two.

Within a single year of entering the sect, Qingye had grasped and mastered every sword art and method Wufangzi had to teach, standing first among all the disciples. Another year passed, and even Wufangzi could only fight him to a draw, and that by relying on his far deeper cultivation. Astonished and delighted, Wufangzi resolutely brought out the ancient scroll handed down from the founder and gave it to Qingye to fathom for himself. Qingye then sealed himself away in the "Huan Yue Cave" behind Jietian Peak, and this seclusion lasted thirteen years before he emerged.

It was said that the night he broke through, the moon was full. The cold moon hung high, and the whole of Jietian Peak was bright as day. Suddenly a great wind rose, and from the rear mountain came a dragon's long cry that shook the country for a hundred li; none who heard it did not pale. Then a pale violet auspicious radiance shot up into the sky, and with a mighty crash the Huan Yue Cave burst open. Qingye emerged with slow steps, his beard and hair entirely white, a smile on his face, a pure radiance about his person. The onlookers were struck with awe, and thought he had become an immortal.

Thereafter Qingye formally left the household life, taking the "Qing" of Qingyun and his family name Ye to call himself Qingye. That day he bade his master Wufangzi farewell with a laugh, saying: "Master, wait a little. Your disciple goes out to settle a matter; he will return within the day."

The others did not understand. A day and a night later Qingye returned flying on his sword, and the outsiders who had occupied the six peaks of Canglan had all been put to the sword. For the strength of his Daoist arts and the ruthlessness of his methods, Daoist Qingye's name shook the world in a single night, and the Canglan Sect's prestige soared.

Another year passed, and Wufangzi passed the position of head to Qingye and went off to cultivate in quiet, no longer troubling himself with the sect's petty affairs. Once in power, Qingye labored to bring order and strength, generously supporting his fellow disciples, strictly selecting successors; and with what he had comprehended from the nameless ancient scroll, he possessed a might beyond the reckoning of gods or ghosts. From then on the Canglan Sect flourished day by day. Within fifty years it was a pillar of the righteous path, and two hundred years later it led all the righteous sects and schools.