Chapter Thirteen: The Eccentric Dao Name

“From now on, your Taoist name will be Golden Coin.” The old man said solemnly to Liu Jun.

Well, that was just great. The question marks in Liu Jun’s mind weren’t just dancing anymore—they were practically throwing a rave. What’s this nonsense? Golden Coin? Why not just call me the Golden Turtle Beetle? At least that’s a beneficial insect. This lousy Taoist name reeks of sinful greed and money, which totally contradicts my image as someone who treats money like dirt. Liu Jun was unhappy.

“Master, wait a moment. Is it true that I can’t change my Taoist name later? If that’s the case, let’s be serious about it. This name is embarrassing. Are you trying to get back at me by deliberately giving me such a name?” Liu Jun asked suspiciously, staring at the old man.

There was no way around it—this name really was embarrassing. Imagine Liu Jun, all serious, ready for a life-or-death battle against demons and monsters, shouting, “Watch how I, Golden Coin Taoist, will destroy you!” Anyone on the other side would burst out laughing, right? How could a fight even continue like that?

“Good disciple, how could your master trick you? This was given to you by our founder,” the old man said sincerely, looking at Liu Jun.

“I’m not well-educated; don’t lie to me. What did the founder say? When did he give me this Taoist name?” Liu Jun doubted even more that the old man was messing with him. The founder hadn’t done anything at all, clearly.

“Look, with that golden glow and the stack of copper coins, your name needs a ‘Zi’ at the end. Either Golden Coin Zi or Golden Stack Zi. You choose,” the old man said seriously, though he was probably barely able to hold back his laughter. It was the first time Liu Jun felt that divination wasn’t necessarily a good thing—this old man was quite the trickster.

“Heh, impressive, my master. It’s just a Taoist name, I’ll accept it. Not bad.” Liu Jun gritted his teeth. It was no big deal. Golden Coin Zi—simple and easy to understand. Perfect for when I report my name. “Hello everyone, I’m Golden Coin Zi, and my master is Qingfeng Zi. Come on, old man, let’s see who can hurt who more.”

“Later, you’ll perform a formal apprenticeship bow and offer tea—that’s the ceremony. Our sect doesn’t fuss over too many formalities. After that, I’ll tell you about our sect; you need to understand it,” the old man said as he headed downstairs, with Liu Jun following.

The old man settled into the grand chair, and Liu Jun respectfully kowtowed, performing the formal apprenticeship ritual.

“Master, here’s your tea.” Liu Jun handed over the teacup.

“That’s enough. The apprenticeship ceremony is complete. You’re officially my disciple now. Let me tell you about our sect,” the old man said, taking the cup.

“We belong to a branch of the Maoshan School under the orthodox Taoism. Our founder is Master Zhang Daoling, who worshipped the Supreme Elder Lord. Our Maoshan sect specializes in talismans, feng shui, divination, and so forth. We don’t have many rules; disciples can marry and have children as long as they don’t commit wrongdoing or misuse Maoshan Taoist arts. Our branch is even more relaxed—just be true to your heart in all things.”

“Master, who else is in our branch? Does Brother Gou and Mo Yu count as part of it?” Liu Jun asked curiously.

“There’s me, you, and Mo Li. You also have an uncle master called Qingyun Zi—I don’t know if he has disciples yet. You’ll meet him when the time comes,” the old man replied.

“This is the ‘Clear Heart Manual,’ and this is the ‘Complete Collection of Talismans.’ Take these and study them well. If you don’t understand something, ask me or Mo Li,” the old man said as he handed Liu Jun two books. Liu Jun flipped through them and suddenly noticed the first two pages were missing from the ‘Complete Collection of Talismans,’ as if someone had torn them out.

“Master, the first two pages of the talisman book are missing,” Liu Jun asked.

“Oh, those pages don’t matter. A few days ago, I drank too much and didn’t bring toilet paper, so I used them instead,” the old man said nonchalantly.

Well, that was something—using the sect’s ancient texts as toilet paper. It was hard to tell whether the old man was just aloof or if the founder himself had lost his edge.

“Stay here and study carefully. I’ll check on you later. Also, when you’re on night duty, you can go home and sleep during the day. Just lock the door,” the old man said, then left without waiting for Liu Jun’s reply. Wow, what a surprise—the old man actually showed some kindness.

Liu Jun sat at the counter flipping through the two books. Opening the ‘Clear Heart Manual,’ he found these lines written:

Clear heart like water, water is the heart.
No breeze stirs, waves remain still.
Sitting alone in the bamboo grove, long howls accompany the zither.
Meditating in tranquility, poison dragons vanish.
My heart has no cracks, Heaven rewards diligence.
My righteousness is resolute, ghosts and demons tremble.
My passion overflows, Heaven and Earth align.
My ambition soars, water rises and wind stirs!

The sky is vast, the earth wide, water flows and clouds drift.
Purity heals at its root, righteousness guards the body.
Ultimate nature, ultimate goodness, the Great Way is Heaven-made.

Liu Jun recognized each character individually but couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of the whole passage. He closed the book, deciding it was enough to remember the gist. Since childhood, he had suffered from a condition that made reading put him to sleep—a curse yet to be cured.

Time passed unnoticed. Footsteps came down the stairs as Mo Li appeared, carrying some items and placing them on the counter.

“You’ve officially become a disciple, right? Taoist Li doesn’t have time to teach you, so I’ll teach you some talisman drawing first,” Mo Li said to Liu Jun. Liu Jun had asked the old man why Mo Li didn’t call him master; it turned out the old man only taught Mo Li Taoist arts without formally taking her as a disciple.

“This is cinnabar, this is a wolf hair brush, and this yellow paper you know about. Take out your talisman book; there are patterns you can copy. Drawing talismans requires a calm mind—only with a serene heart can you succeed. If you can’t calm yourself, meditate and enter a trance, silently reciting the ‘Clear Heart Manual’ in your mind,” Mo Li explained, pointing at the items on the counter.

Without hesitation, Liu Jun sat cross-legged in the grand chair and began silently reciting the ‘Clear Heart Manual.’ His memory was surprisingly good; he managed to recall it perfectly: Clear heart like water, water is the heart. No breeze stirs, waves remain still… once. Clear heart like water, water is the heart… twice… three times… before long, Liu Jun had fallen asleep, his steady snoring filling the room.

“Liu Jun, Liu Jun, wake up. Get up and practice talismans. If you don’t practice, you won’t pass Taoist Li’s test,” Mo Li shook him, trying to rouse him.

“Well, I was meditating deeply just now. Let’s go practice talismans,” Liu Jun said as he got up and went to the counter, avoiding Mo Li’s gaze. It was awkward—she was kindly teaching him Taoist arts, and he just fell asleep.

“Yeah, you meditated so deeply your drool’s still at the corner of your mouth,” Brother Gou sneered, having come down unnoticed.

Liu Jun ignored the teasing, picked up the brush, laid out the yellow paper, dipped it in cinnabar, and began practicing—wiping drool from his mouth now and then. He flipped through the talisman book, hoping to find a simple one to try, but none were easy. At the back, he found the Five Thunder Talisman—the same one Mo Li used to strike the giant serpent. It left a deep impression on him—the sky filled with thunder, a truly imposing sight. That was the one. After choosing it, Liu Jun began carefully copying the design.

Mo Li stood beside him, watching as he concentrated on drawing the Five Thunder Talisman. Liu Jun thought to himself, “Though my drawing isn’t perfect, at least I’m trying.”