The Slander of the Old Deities
The visible battlefields of the alternate dimensions fell silent, but San San immediately encountered another kind of subtle crucible within his household in the mortal world.
The impure forces no longer relied solely on sharp fangs, monstrous forms, or violent invasions. They turned instead to the ordinary frictions of daily life—the pressure of survival, physical exhaustion, financial tightness, and sudden disruptions designed to wear down the Righteous Thoughts of practitioners one small layer at a time.
During this period, his parents’ work grew increasingly demanding. Their financial resources became constrained, while their communication devices suffered one unexpected failure after another. A malicious entity had silently interfered with his father’s computer, the primary tool he relied upon to carry out work related to the Great Fa.
One mundane hardship followed another.
Underneath the surface, however, San San’s Celestial Eye revealed a far more deliberate design.
At an ascended stratum, several degenerate entities observed the family’s difficulties with malicious amusement. They even advanced before Master, attempting to slander His disciples.
“Your disciples have cultivated to such a high level, yet they cannot even overcome these small physical hardships? Look at them. They are already wavering.”
Master remained serene. He regarded their accusations as mere cosmic refuse. His boundlessly compassionate energy protected His disciples as He answered:
“You possess no authority to interfere. They are My disciples, and I alone arrange their path.”
The old forces withdrew, but the pressure did not disappear at once. Their words had not been intended only for Master. They had also been aimed at the disciples themselves, hoping that every difficulty would cause them to question whether their cultivation had any real power.
One afternoon, San San sat beside his mother to study the Fa. The relentless pressures of daily life had exhausted her. As she read the True Scripture of the Great Fa while resting on the bed, her eyelids grew progressively heavier. Before long, she unconsciously drifted into sleep, the open scripture resting at an angle in her hands.
At that precise moment, San San witnessed an astonishing scene within her physical form.
Layer upon layer of sentient beings and Deities appeared across vast internal realms corresponding to the immense cosmic systems linked to her spirit. They were filled with sorrow. Some wept openly, while others looked toward the primary disciple in the human world with profound disappointment, reproaching her for relinquishing her awareness so easily.
A single moment of slumber in the mortal world had caused the spiritual progress of countless heavenly realms to halt. What appeared to an ordinary human as nothing more than a tired practitioner falling asleep became, at another level, a heavy pause affecting an entire internal universe.
San San watched the scene in silence.
He did not judge his mother. He understood the weight of the human body, the demands of ordinary life, and the relentless pressure created by the old forces. Yet he also understood that the battle of a practitioner did not always announce itself through a demon’s roar.
Sometimes it arrived as fatigue.
Sometimes it arrived as one reasonable thought after another.
The Siege of the Twin Phantoms
Before the vision completely faded, a dense black mist surged from a mutated dimension directly into San San’s mind-field.
Within it manifested two insidious demonic commanders: the Demon of Fatigue and the Demon of Imagination.
The Demon of Fatigue had once been an entity maintaining the ancient characteristics of the old cosmos. After degenerating, it became skilled at dispersing substances of lethargy, luring practitioners toward deep sleep, and dulling their ability to maintain active Righteous Thoughts.
It had no fixed face. Its body resembled a heavy cloak of gray vapor, and wherever the cloak passed, even brilliant thoughts became slow and dim. It whispered through the muscles, the eyelids, and the marrow of the body.
The Demon of Imagination was far more dangerous.
This entity possessed no fixed form, undergoing endless transformations. Whenever practitioners encountered conflicts or gave rise to ordinary human attachments, it immediately seized upon those mental openings, weaving suspicions, fears, and complex deductions completely separated from the Truth.
It could cause practitioners to doubt one another, turn a simple misunderstanding into an intricate chain of resentment, and quietly create division to disrupt the sacred harmony of Fa-Rectification.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
The demon’s voice did not sound evil.
It sounded intelligent.
It presented itself as analysis, caution, and foresight. It encouraged the mind to inspect every detail until the original fact became buried beneath an endless structure of possibilities.
San San watched as the Demon of Imagination attempted to burrow into the dark fissures of his consciousness.
This time, he did not summon swords or thunder.
Instead, he anchored his heart in the principle of Stillness within the Great Fa.
Before sending forth Righteous Thoughts, he spent five full minutes thoroughly clearing his mind. Every suspicious thought, every human concept, every karmic distraction, and every unrighteous impulse hidden within his consciousness was methodically purified.
The Demon of Imagination changed its form repeatedly.
First, it became a concerned elder warning San San that he was not doing enough. Then it became a solemn Deity asking whether he had truly understood the meaning of his actions. Finally, it became a younger version of San San himself, trembling beneath the burden of responsibility and asking whether a child could possibly possess enough strength to confront the darkness of the cosmos.
San San did not answer any of the forms.
He did not debate them.
He did not attempt to discover which face concealed the demon’s true identity.
He merely returned to Stillness.
When his consciousness finally reached a state of crystalline clarity, the acupuncture point behind his neck seemed to seal itself shut, completely preventing devious entities from entering his body.
Then San San’s primordial spirit transformed before his Celestial Eye. He manifested as a colossal Deity standing firm between Heaven and Earth. His form remained completely still and unmoved, yet within that absolute stillness rested an immense authority capable of suppressing all disorder.
As his Righteous Thoughts surged outward, the Demon of Imagination shattered into fine dust. Simultaneously, a dark, mutated substance was automatically expelled from San San’s body, dissipating into the void as his inner realm returned to pure light.
The Demon of Fatigue retreated beyond the boundary of his mind-field.
It did not disappear.
It simply waited.
The Thought of a Tangible Weapon
When San San emerged from his meditation, his physical body felt extraordinarily light, as if a heavy karmic weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Yet after the relentless sequence of battles against fatigue, pressure, and hidden interference, a subtle thought quietly surfaced within his heart.
He wished for a visible, tangible weapon—something he could hold in his hand to strike down phantoms effortlessly.
The thought did not arise from open greed. It appeared beneath the disguise of practicality.
San San had already fought through countless dimensions. His divine powers were vast, yet every battle demanded intense concentration and immense expenditure of gong. A weapon that could respond automatically would allow him to eliminate evil more efficiently, without exhausting the limited strength of his young physical body.
He told himself that such an instrument would not be for pride.
It would be for responsibility.
If he possessed a tangible weapon, he could protect more sentient beings. He could respond more quickly. He could preserve his own energy for matters that demanded an even greater level of cultivation.
The reasoning sounded righteous.
Yet beneath that righteous explanation lay a quieter thought:
If I possessed a tangible weapon, I would not need to rely entirely upon my own strength.
San San did not notice the thought at first.
It was small, almost weightless, and hidden beneath a layer of concern for others. But a cultivation practitioner did not measure the danger of an attachment by its size. Even a tiny opening could become a passage through which foreign substances entered.
At precisely that moment—when the thought of a tangible weapon had settled most deeply within his heart—an ancient Taoist immortal materialized nearby.
The figure carried an ethereal, transcendent aura. His long hair was fastened with a simple wooden hairpin, and his robe flowed as though woven from pale mist. He smiled warmly and presented San San with a strange, radiant artifact—a golden Fa-staff.
“When a demonic entity appears,” the Taoist said softly, “this artifact will fly forth on its own and eliminate the beast. You have already expended much of your energy in the battles ahead. Allow it to assist you, so that your strength may be preserved for matters of greater importance.”
The promise did not sound like a temptation.
It sounded like a practical arrangement offered to a young disciple who had already endured too many battles.
Since early childhood, San San had held a deep fascination with the divine weapons described in Journey to the West. Seeing the magnificent staff floating before him, he accepted it with genuine delight.
He did not believe that he was pursuing personal power. In his mind, he was merely accepting an instrument that could help him fulfill his responsibility more efficiently while preserving the strength of his young body.
That righteous explanation made the acceptance feel harmless.
The instant his fingers wrapped around the artifact, a carefully laid trap silently sprang shut around him.
The staff did not force itself into his hand.
It waited for his own choice to open the way.
The artifact appeared to be a divine weapon, but beneath its radiant facade lay a dangerous spiritual trap, one that touched upon the fundamental law of No Second Cultivation Way.
A faint current passed through San San’s palm and connected itself to the outer edge of his energy field. The sensation was warm, efficient, and strangely reassuring.
He did not recognize the reassurance as dependence.
He merely thought that he had found a useful instrument.
The First Promise of the Artifact
The golden staff rose from his hand and floated before him.
A small thought emerged from its radiance.
You do not need to reject me.
San San’s expression changed slightly.
The thought was so gentle that he could not tell whether it had come from the staff or from his own mind.
You only need to use me correctly.
A second thought followed.
You are tired.
San San remembered the exhaustion in his limbs after the previous battles.
You are still young.
He remembered the pain in his hands and the weight of his physical body.
Your strength is not yet enough.
The last thought caused a faint disturbance in his heart.
The staff did not attack him. It did not command him. It merely gave a shape to the fear he had not yet admitted.
San San closed his fingers around it again.
“The artifact will help me fulfill my responsibility,” he said quietly.
The golden light brightened.
He did not see the dark current passing from the staff into the deepest part of his energy field.
He did not see the narrow fissure opening within the boundary between his own gong and the external power.
Nor did he notice the Demon of Fatigue observing from beyond the distant mist.
The demon did not need to enter yet.
A different door had already opened.
San San lifted his gaze toward the higher dimensions. His heart remained filled with the desire to protect the innocent and eliminate evil. Yet alongside that righteous resolve now rested a second intention—the desire to fulfill the same responsibility with less pain, less exhaustion, and less dependence upon his own limited strength.
The two intentions appeared almost identical.
Only one of them belonged entirely to the Fa.
Far above the mortal world, the golden pillar measuring San San’s moral character trembled very slightly.
He did not notice.
Canto 108— The Matrix of Imagination
The ordinary frictions weave the net,The ancient Deities call to account.The cosmic realms within her frame,A single slumber stills their sacred flame.
The Demon of Imagination sows the fear,The word of Stillness makes the pathway clear.A tangible weapon answers hidden need,The righteous mask conceals the subtle greed.
The golden staff extends its quiet light,A foreign current enters out of sight.The heart still seeks to serve the cosmic design,Yet one small opening waits beneath the sign.