Everyone in the Three Realms is wondering about the young Daoist at Zhongnan Mountain. Who is he?
The Lady of Houtu treats him with utmost courtesy. The Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha calls him “fellow Daoist.” The Ten Kings of Hell line up to meet him. Even the Jade Emperor, upon hearing that he has come down the mountain, personally sends people to keep watch at the Southern Heavenly Gate. Yet he is clearly just the abbot of an ordinary Daoist temple. He speaks slowly, walks slowly, and does things slowly, so slowly that he can leave Black and White Impermanence pacing in a panic.
Strangest of all, it’s only after he leaves that the big shots privately murmur to one another:
“He’s still the same as ever, just like back then.”
“He was already here before I even ascended the throne.”
“He was the first child of Heaven and Earth.”
Zhang Xian knows nothing about any of this. He’s just going down the mountain to subdue a demon and, while he’s at it, take on a disciple.
A demon god’s remnant soul breaks free from its seal? No rush. He’ll deal with it after finishing his tea. Monsters wreak havoc among mortals? Don’t panic. He’ll take care of it after drawing this talisman. A great calamity threatens the Three Realms? Take it slow. There’s nothing he can’t handle.
Demons and monsters fear him, gods and Buddhas respect him, and his disciple Lin Yuan follows along in blissful ignorance.
Only Zhang Xian himself thinks he’s an ordinary Daoist. At most, he’s lived a little longer and learned to keep his cool.
This is the story of a being who has lived for endless ages, doing the most ruthless things in the slowest way possible. In the end, he takes on a disciple and tells him: “Take your time. There’s no hurry.”
Good, good, good