The vast, surging red storm had finally swept from the major cities to the townships, and waves of educated youth arrived in the Northeast to participate in the struggle between revolution and counter-revolution. And the once peaceful Xiushui Village could not escape it after all.

That day, a knock sounded on the door of Old Man Liu’s house. Liu Dashao opened it to find Yang Baosan, the rebel leader who had visited the village a few days prior. Trailing behind him was a contingent of about ten “Red Guards,” each wearing a red armband. Every single Red Guard looked at Zhang Enpu as if gazing upon the man who murdered their father. Yang Baosan sized up the master and disciple, then shouted, “Surround this courtyard! Get inside the house and search it!”

“Wait! What are you doing…” Old Man Liu saw the “Red Guards” making to enter his home without a word and tried to stop them. Unexpectedly, several of the burly, well-built “Red Guards” immediately closed ranks, encircling the whole group. To tell the truth, despite the imposing stature of these dozen or so men, Zhang Enpu and his disciple did not take them seriously. However, they understood the severe implications of striking a “Red Guard” in those times, so they could only swallow their anger and submit.

“Yang Baosan! What is the meaning of bringing so many people to our home? Are you trying to rob us! Don't forget that your auntie was possessed by a spirit, and it was Heavenly Master Zhang who cured her!” Seeing Yang Baosan arrive with so many “Red Guards,” even the dullest person like Old Man Liu could guess his purpose. But Yang Baosan merely sneered and said, “Cured her?! If our auntie hadn't told us what you people really are, we might have mistaken you for ordinary villagers. It turns out your house is harboring reactionaries!”

“Reactionaries?! On what grounds do you make such an accusation!” Zhang Enpu, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up, “I, Zhang, am merely a cultivator. I have never involved myself in matters of dynastic change…” As Zhang Enpu was speaking, a “Red Guard” named Xiaotian emerged from the house holding a yellow cloth sack. Without a word, he threw it onto the ground. The sack was tied with slipknots, which immediately loosened upon impact. Inside were items Zhang Enpu and his disciple used for their practices, such as yellow talismans and peach-wood swords. “What is this! This is the evidence!”

Yang Baosan pointed at the scattered items on the floor and declared, “I say, why do you people always fiddle with this junk instead of being honest citizens, working hard every day?! These are great toxic tumors left over from feudal times. Messing with these things means you’re planning rebellion! You are reactionaries!”

With a single command from Yang Baosan, the “Red Guards” swarmed forward, binding Zhang Enpu and the others tightly with hemp ropes. They were then forced to wear the tall paper hats inscribed with ‘counter-revolutionary’ slogans that Liu Dashao and the others had seen around town before being marched off to a makeshift prison. Zhang Enpu, the master, initially held onto hope, thinking that since he and his disciple had committed no crimes or misdeeds, the label of ‘reactionary’ could never stick to them. He believed that once the matter was investigated clearly, they would be released. Little did he expect that these “Red Guards” had no intention of investigating at all. The very next day, they marched the master and disciple to the market square in town. First, Yang Baosan read a torrent of impassioned revolutionary rhetoric, and then a chamber pot was hung around each of their necks, allowing the surrounding crowd to spit at the three of them! This was just the mild stuff they showed openly. When the day ended and night fell, Zhang Enpu was dragged into a dark little room and subjected to vicious tortures, such as having chili water forced up his nose. These small struggles every day, and major struggles every three days, became routine. Only when the “Red Guards” grew tired from tormenting them would they throw Zhang Enpu and his two disciples into a broken coal kiln to be locked away.

Over time, even robust young men found it unbearable, let alone an elderly man like Zhang Enpu? After half a month of denunciation sessions, he became withered, weak, and utterly spent. When he spoke, his voice was as faint as an ant’s; unless one pressed an ear close, one could barely hear what Zhang Enpu was saying! Seeing his master reduced to such a state, Liu Dashao was worried but utterly helpless. The “Red Guards” watching over the three of them disregarded their well-being entirely, only ensuring they received one meager ration of food and water each day to keep them from starving, and nothing more!

One early morning, following the usual routine, Liu Dashao woke up early, waiting for the “Red Guards” outside to drag him out to the market square for denunciation. To his surprise, no one came today; the day was unusually quiet. Around noon, when it was time for the midday meal, Yang Baosan entered the kiln with three “Red Guards,” pointing at Zhang Enpu and yelling, “Zhang Enpu! You come out!”

“What do you want! If you have something to discuss, I’ll go with you. My master is unwell; please do not trouble him!” Seeing that Yang Baosan was heading straight for his master, Liu Dashao immediately stepped forward to shield Zhang Enpu. But Yang Baosan merely gave a cold laugh and said softly, “Your master had connections with the Kuomintang before; this is treason!”

“Nonsense! How could our master have done such a thing!” Hearing this, Liu Dashao instinctively refused to believe it and was about to lunge forward to confront Yang Baosan, but Zhang Enpu stopped him. In recent days, Zhang Enpu had been so frail he looked like a man near death. Yet, this time, he seemed to have transformed into an entirely different person. He spoke with powerful vigor, “It is acceptable for me, Zhang, to go with you. However, I must first speak a few words to my disciple!” Seeing the sickly man suddenly fill with energy startled Yang Baosan greatly. “Th-then fine, but I’ll only give you five minutes…”

Zhang Enpu was quite satisfied with these five minutes. As he watched Yang Baosan and his subordinates withdraw outside, Liu Dashao suddenly dropped to his knees, crying out, “Master! You must not go with them! If anyone must go, it should be us!” Looking at Liu Dashao’s anguish, Zhang Enpu felt a wave of comfort and said, “Stop arguing, all of you. None of you can bear this burden. Furthermore, your master has foreseen that his days are few; this is merely a final surge of vitality.”

Although Zhang Enpu appeared energized now, Liu Dashao knew in his heart this was just the light before the dark. Hearing his master speak it aloud, however, made it almost unbearable, and he burst into heartbroken sobs. “The greatest pride of my life, Zhang Enpu, was taking you as my disciple. Now that I face this calamity, survival is unlikely. From this moment, the position of the Head of the Zhengyi Dao will be yours!” With that, Zhang Enpu dug out a sect token from a dirt hollow in the kiln—a token blackened by coal dust. “Disciple, remember this: you must spread the glory of our Daoist teaching far and wide. Only then can this master rest in peace in the netherworld!”

The bond between Liu Dashao and Zhang Enpu had grown profoundly strong these past days. Now, hearing his master’s words sound like a final testament, the master and disciple in the small coal kiln could not contain their grief, clinging to each other in an embrace…

Things unfolded exactly as expected. After leaving that time, Zhang Enpu never returned. According to the neighbors, Zhang Enpu had been taken to another town to be denounced alongside other great shamans. When he was brought back, unwilling to endure further humiliation, Zhang Enpu broke free from his bonds alone and dashed his head against the wall, leaving the ground drenched in blood.

The villagers knew exactly how much good Zhang Enpu had done for several villages during his lifetime; they may not have spoken of it, but they all kept a mental tally. With his death, the villagers could no longer remain silent. Out of deference to the furious public sentiment, Yang Baosan made an exception, allowing Zhang Enpu’s body to be collected and brought back to Liu Dashao for burial. He was buried next to the Wuxian Lingguan Temple in Xiushui Village, with no tombstone, only a solitary willow tree to mark the spot.

In front of the grave, Liu Dashao let out a heavy sigh.

“What is it, Dashao? Still can’t let it go?” Village Head Tian stepped forward, lit three sticks of incense, and respectfully placed them in the censer.

Liu Dashao said nothing, only shaking his head.

“Why did you two, master and disciple, have to go through this, alas!” Village Head Tian sighed.

“You wouldn’t understand!” Liu Dashao replied flatly.

“Oh?”

“Some things still have to be done by someone!”

After burying Zhang Enpu, Liu Dashao’s life returned to its former monotonous routine—scurrying between writing self-criticism reports and undergoing denunciation sessions.

Although he certainly could have avenged Zhang Enpu, subtly and without anyone knowing, ensuring that bastard Yang Baosan met an untimely end, Liu Dashao, despite his usual carefree and unrestrained nature, strictly adhered to the taboos of Daoist arts. When Zhang Enpu taught him the Zhengyi school of Daoism, he had laid down strict requirements, stating the Dao had Five Prohibitions and Six Prohibitions:

The Five Prohibitions on Saving: One. Do not save those who do not seek aid. Two. Do not save those who are disrespectful. Three. Do not save those who value wealth over life. Four. Do not save the great villains, thieves, or those who violate criminal law. Five. Do not save those who bring ruin upon themselves.

The Six Prohibitions on Action: One. Do not act for one’s own financial gain. Two. Do not act for one’s own political power. Three. Do not act for one’s own romantic pursuits. Four. Do not reveal heavenly secrets. Five. Do not commit acts that harm others. Six. Do not commit acts that are unbenevolent or unjust.

When Liu Dashao first heard these rules, he knew his life was destined to be bitter. He possessed a body full of profound Daoist skills, yet he could not use them to cheat people out of money, nor could he use them to seek power, nor could he even use them to trick a wife into marriage.