After Ethan Foster entered the room, he first bowed to a painting hanging on the wall. It was a portrait, depicting only an elderly man with his hair tied in a Daoist style, his expression kindly. The eyes in the painting were especially vivid, as if they could see straight into Ethan Foster’s heart.

“Master, there is no more grain in the mountains. Your disciple must leave now. I ask for your protection…” Ethan Foster muttered as he took the painting down from the wall, rolled it up, and placed it inside a bamboo tube.

With Ethan Foster’s pace, it would take half a day to walk from the temple down the mountain, so with only three days left before leaving, Ethan Foster couldn’t be bothered to make another trip. In his view, this didn’t really violate his master’s teachings. Besides, the old Daoist’s words were always half true and half false, so Ethan Foster wasn’t sure if he was being tricked again this time.

“This wine gourd must be taken as well…” Ethan Foster picked up a wooden box that his master often carried, put the bamboo tube inside, and then placed the wine gourd he had just used into it.

It wasn’t that Ethan Foster was reluctant to part with the wine inside the gourd, but rather that the gourd itself held great sentimental value.

Ever since Ethan Foster could remember, this wine gourd had never left his master’s side. What was originally a yellow gourd had been polished by the old Daoist’s hands until it turned a deep brown. Sunlight from outside the house shone on the gourd, revealing a faint, colorful sheen.

“These few strings of flowing beads should be taken too. Master once said, ‘In stillness, the spirit is hidden; in restlessness, it perishes.’ These few ritual implements can be used during cultivation…”

After putting away the gourd, Ethan Foster’s gaze fell on several strings of beads hanging by his master’s bedside. Some were twelve-bead bracelets, some were eighteen-bead hand-held strings, and there were also eighty-one and one hundred and eight-bead prayer beads. All were richly patinated. After the old Daoist passed away, Ethan Foster often played with them, so their luster was bright, as if imbued with a hint of spiritual energy.

The world generally believes that bracelets or prayer beads originate from Buddhism, but that’s not the case. Daoist cultivation also uses prayer beads, though Daoists usually call them “flowing beads.”

As for the current relationship between Buddhism and Daoism, it truly fits the saying: “All the good words in the world have been spoken by the Buddha, and all the famous mountains are occupied by monks.”

But is that really so? In fact, quite the opposite. As a foreign religion, Buddhism borrowed many things from Daoism. For example, the prayer beads used in cultivation were not invented by Buddhism. In the precepts established during the Buddha’s era, there was no mention of prayer beads, whereas early Daoist texts often mention them.

In the “Shangqing Collection” by the immortal Bai Yuchan, it is recorded that Immortal Ge Xianweng, “when first refining elixirs, always held prayer beads in his hand, sitting by the alchemy furnace every day, reciting the Jade Emperor’s full title ten thousand times.” This pioneered the Daoist practice of reciting sacred names.

In Daoism, twelve beads represent the twelve thunder gates, twenty-four beads the twenty-four solar terms, twenty-eight beads the twenty-eight constellations, thirty-two beads the thirty-two heavenly emperors who save people, thirty-six beads the number of heavenly generals and evil spirits, and eighty-one beads represent the eighty-one transformations of Laozi, as well as the pure yang energy of nine times nine.

A Daoist string of one hundred and eight beads represents the thirty-six heavenly generals and seventy-two earthly fiends. However, the old Daoist especially favored the eighty-one-bead strings. Among those he left to Ethan Foster, there were three strings of eighty-one beads, while the others were only single strings.

Ethan Foster understood his master’s intentions, because the cultivation method his master taught him was related to these eighty-one beads.

In “Daoist Methods Compendium, Volume 177: The Jade Register of the Elemental Radiance Palace,” it says: “Whenever you wish to send forth the spirit, first refine the qi and practice stillness. Once the qi is settled, it becomes spirit. Sit facing the auspicious direction, tie the shoe-lacing pulse with your hand, four movements make one breath, hold the prayer beads, pinch one bead with each breath, measure your usual breathing, gradually increase it, do not exert too much effort, lest it be inconvenient.”

And in “Cui Xu Yin” by Master Chen Niwan, it is also said: “Of eighty, let nine go and swallow one, gather the qi to the navel for embryonic breathing; hold the prayer beads and count the breaths.”

Most people who read these passages think they are just Daoist scriptures, but in fact, they are real Daoist cultivation methods. For more than ten years, whenever Ethan Foster meditated and cultivated, he would always turn a string of Daoist beads in his hand. The beads his master left him, after years of use, had become even more subdued in their spiritual glow.

He put a string of beads on each wrist, took another string of eighty-one beads and hung it around his neck, then placed the rest of the beads into a cloth bag and put it in the box. His eyes then fell on a brass compass sitting on the table.

Most of the things passed down from Ethan Foster’s master were items the old Daoist had blessed for decades. Ordinary objects, after being blessed with Daoist scriptures for so many years, had become ritual implements. According to the old Daoist, during his years as a feng shui master, this compass was his livelihood.

“Master, the world is peaceful now, and there’s no need for rituals. I’ll just leave this here…”

Ethan Foster muttered, picked up the compass, squatted down, and pried up a floor tile, revealing a small hole underneath. Ethan Foster placed the compass inside. Although he wasn’t taking it with him, since it was something passed down from his master, he couldn’t let others take it for nothing.

“Sigh, I can’t even fill a single box…”

After putting away the compass, Ethan Foster glanced at the wooden box, which wasn’t even half full. He couldn’t help but smile wryly. His master was truly generous—apart from leaving him a self-portrait, everything else was just a bunch of old wood and worn beads.