Gao Liang had no interest in anything except the Heavenly Principle Diagram. He summoned Ouyang Pianzuo and handed the remaining items to him. Then, the Director personally brought Sun Fatty with him to escort the diagram to the legendary fourth basement level. I thought my part was done—just needed to see these two off at the elevator and head back to my dorm to rest once the doors closed.
But to my complete surprise, just before the elevator doors closed, Gao Liang suddenly extended his hand to stop them. He waved at me and said, "You come in too." Not only me—Ouyang Pianzuo looked a little shocked as well.
I looked around, then pointed at myself. "Me? You're not talking to Director Ouyang?" Before Gao Liang could respond, Deputy Director Sun reached out, grabbed me, pulled me into the elevator, and hit the close button—leaving the bewildered Ouyang Pianzuo outside.
"Lazi, not that I'm saying anything, but when Director Gao tells you to do something, you just do it. You think he'd ever set you up?" Sun Fatty grinned. I nodded vaguely, but inside my thoughts were racing. The fourth underground level of the Bureau was only accessible to the Director level. I'd never heard of even a department chief being invited down there. What was going on?
While I was busy imagining all sorts of scenarios, the elevator arrived at the fourth level. When the doors opened, there was another door waiting. Gao Liang pulled a thin plastic tube from his pocket, opened it, and took out a fine metal wire—something that resembled an animal whisker. I'd seen this before in the Tomb of a Transcendent Beast—it was a Dragon Whisker.
It was then I noticed this door had no lock. Where the lock should have been, there was only a barely visible hole. Gao Liang inserted the Dragon Whisker into the hole and slowly twisted it. It looked like this would take a while. During the process, Sun Fatty suddenly said, "Director Gao, I never got the chance to ask before—not that I'm saying anything, but what exactly is the Heavenly Principle Diagram?"
Without pausing his hand, Gao Liang replied, "If you didn't know, you should've asked earlier." As he finished speaking, there was a crisp click. The lock disengaged. Gao Liang gently pushed the door open, revealing what lay beyond.
Even inside the Bureau, few had ever seen the fourth underground level. What greeted us was a vast chamber—so expansive it felt excessive. Compared to the second basement level, this space was at least twice as large. But it appeared completely empty, with no shelves or storage facilities in sight.
The lighting here was voice-activated. As we stepped out of the elevator, the overhead lights gradually illuminated the space.
Gao Liang only said one sentence earlier and then fell silent. Once he entered, he strode straight toward the depths of the chamber. Sun Fatty and I followed. Sun Fatty tried again, "Director Gao, you didn't finish your sentence. Not that I'm saying anything, but can't you give us a few words to pass the time?"
"Pass the time?" Gao Liang didn't stop, though his pace slowed slightly. He glanced back at Sun Fatty and said, "Desheng, you're a Deputy Director now. How about you take some time to learn proper professional knowledge?"
"I am learning!" Sun Fatty replied with his signature grin. "Not that I'm saying anything, but is there anyone in the Bureau more knowledgeable than you, Director Gao?"
Gao Liang let out a light snort but finally began to explain as we walked. He recounted the origins of the Heavenly Principle Diagram.
The diagram had gone by many names since it first appeared at the end of the Han dynasty (circa 190 CE). The reason it came to be called the Heavenly Principle Diagram is because during the Tianli Sect uprising in the mid-Qing dynasty (circa 1740s CE), the sect treated it as a sacred relic, and the name stuck.
Its earliest known name was the Immortal Sutra. Just prior to the Yellow Turban Rebellion (circa 184 CE), Zhang Jue, the leader of the Taiping Sect, stumbled upon this cultivation manual. But as his rebellion plans were already in motion and he was wholly focused on overthrowing the Han regime, he had no time to study the profound techniques within. Though he knew its content was extraordinary, Zhang was already committed to the path of insurrection—there was no turning back.
Later, Zhang Jue raised the Yellow Turban Army and rebelled, but he failed and eventually died of illness in Jiao County, Hebei (circa 184 CE). Legend says that just before his death, for reasons unknown, he experienced a final burst of clarity and attempted to burn the Immortal Sutra as a burial offering. But when he threw the sutra into the brazier, the once-roaring flames were suddenly extinguished. People initially thought the large parchment smothered the fire, but when someone tried to touch the brazier, they found it icy cold, with frost forming on the bottom.
Upon witnessing this bizarre scene, Zhang Jue muttered a few words under his breath. However, by that time his illness was far advanced, and no one could make out what he said. After those unintelligible murmurs, Zhang Jue coughed blood and collapsed, dying on the spot.
The Immortal Sutra was then taken by his younger brother Zhang Bao. Unfortunately, Zhang Bao lacked Zhang Jue's talent, and the time he had to study the sutra was too short to master its teachings. Not long after, he was killed by Han generals Huangfu Song and Guo Dian (circa 184–185 CE). The Immortal Sutra vanished for the first time following Zhang Bao's death and did not reappear until more than five centuries later, during the 11th year of the Zhenguan reign of the Tang Dynasty (Tang Dynasty, Zhenguan 11th Year, 637 CE).
In the 11th year of Zhenguan (637 CE), in the Tang capital of Chang'an, a government clerk named Liu Changru purchased a street-front house. Liu had secured quite a bargain. The former owner of the house was a reclusive old man with no heirs or relatives, and upon his death, the property was repossessed by the local authorities and sold at auction.
Liu Changru took a liking to the house at first sight. As someone with connections in the yamen, he managed to acquire it at a remarkably low price—practically a gift. His family lived in an ancestral home on the outskirts, but for convenience, he moved into the house alone, hiring an elderly neighbor woman to cook for him. At first, everything seemed fine. But after some time, strange occurrences began.
Every month, a few days would go by when dead cats, dogs, or rats would be found outside his front door. At first, Liu thought it was just neighborhood kids playing pranks. He cleaned it up without much thought. But gradually, the pattern grew disturbing. One morning, Liu stepped out early for business and saw an old dog stagger to his doorstep. He thought little of it—until the dog collapsed at his feet with a sharp yelp, spasmed a few times, and died right there.
Startled, Liu was about to kick the corpse aside when a stream of black mist emerged from the dog's mouth and nose. It drifted past Liu through the front door and into the inner rooms of the house.
The sun had yet to rise, making the scene even more eerie. Remembering the other dead animals, Liu finally sensed something was deeply wrong. A chill ran down his spine. Panicked, he fled to the center of the street and waited until daylight fully broke before feeling a bit calmer.
Liu didn't even bother locking the door. He took leave from work and rushed out of the city to Qingyun Temple. The abbot there was a Taoist named Kong Qizhen. Just the previous year, Kong had performed nineteen accurate fortune-telling divinations for Duke Lu, Cheng Zhijie, which made him famous throughout Chang'an.
Kong and Liu had known each other for years. After hearing Liu's story, Kong couldn't fully explain it either, but he agreed to investigate. He accompanied Liu to the haunted house and circled the exterior a few times without finding anything odd. But seeing the fear on Liu's face, he chose to believe him.
To his credit, Kong stayed the night. Just before dawn, his face suddenly changed. As if chasing something invisible, he rushed into the inner chamber. Liu followed, repeatedly asking what was wrong, but Kong remained silent.
Once inside, Kong began searching the walls with his hands. After a moment, he found the spot he was looking for, but had no tools at hand. As daylight broke, Liu borrowed a hammer from a neighbor. Kong took it and smashed open a section of the wall, revealing a hidden compartment containing a single parchment scroll. When unrolled, the only two characters Liu could recognize were "Immortal Sutra."
Upon seeing the Immortal Sutra, Kong's eyes lit up. But more than that—after a quick glance through it, his expression changed dramatically. His breathing quickened, his face flushed, and though he was a man of spiritual cultivation, his body began to tremble.
Liu was alarmed and asked again what was going on. Finally, Kong answered: the strange events at Liu's home were all caused by this cursed sutra.
Even as a layman, Liu could see faint strands of black mist swirling around the parchment. Though it had a divine name, it was clearly a malevolent object. Naturally, Liu dared not keep it, nor did he have the courage to destroy it. Fortunately, Kong was there and offered to bring the sutra back to Qingyun Temple to use Taoist rituals to purge its evil.
Liu gratefully agreed and personally escorted Kong back to the temple. Once Kong obtained the sutra, he chose a disciple to succeed him as abbot and retreated to a grass hut behind the temple. From that point on, he secluded himself from worldly affairs and entered closed-door cultivation.
He remained hidden for nine years. It wasn't until the beginning of Zhenguan 20th year (Tang Dynasty, Zhenguan 20th Year, 646 CE) that Kong Qizhen emerged again. He claimed that during his secluded practice, he had moved the gods of the Ninth Heaven with his sincerity, and was granted the Scripture of the Mysterious Heaven (Xuántiān Jīng) to help him attain immortality.
To prove his divine status, Kong performed miracles publicly: restoring sight to the blind, regrowing limbs. Later, he even claimed to control life and death, to reverse the forces of yin and yang. One day, after casting a spell, the clear skies turned dark, as though night had fallen.
His fame exploded. Nobles and high officials flocked to become his disciples. Eventually, Kong left Qingyun Temple entirely and founded his own sect—Xuantian Daoism.
But near the end of Zhenguan 22nd year (Tang Dynasty, Zhenguan 22nd Year, 648 CE), disaster struck. At the height of his fame, Kong suddenly lost his voice, then developed a mysterious illness. Within days, he went blind, deaf, mute, developed cracked and ulcerated skin, lost the ability to move, and all his teeth fell out. He could only be fed rice porridge by disciples.
He became a living corpse. At first, his followers stayed by his side, praying for recovery. But as days passed and he began coughing up black, foul-smelling blood like ink, they began to abandon him.
Rumors spread that Kong Qizhen had never attained enlightenment, but had practiced wicked arts and was now suffering divine punishment. One rumor sparked many more. His disciples dispersed like a receding tide. The main hall of the Xuantian Sect was looted by his own followers. When they couldn't find the legendary Scripture of the Mysterious Heaven, they grew furious and burned the entire headquarters to the ground. Kong Qizhen perished in the fire, his dream of becoming an immortal never realized.
Over the following centuries, the so-called Scripture of the Mysterious Heaven resurfaced several times, always under different names. By the mid-Qing Dynasty (circa 1740s CE), it reappeared again—this time, known as the Heavenly Principle Diagram.