A young man named Zhou sought to learn magic from a Taoist immortal on Mount Lao. He climbed for seven days, fasted for three, and finally found the immortal sitting beneath a pine tree.

"Master, teach me magic," Zhou begged.

"Magic cannot be stolen," the immortal said. "It must be earned."

"I am willing to earn it," Zhou said.

"For twenty years?"

Zhou hesitated. Then: "Yes."

For twenty years, Zhou chopped wood, drew water, tended the garden, and studied in silence. The immortal taught him nothing — or so it seemed. Then, on the twenty-year mark, the immortal handed him a pill.

"Swallow this at midnight. You will learn what you wish to know."

At midnight, Zhou swallowed the pill. He did not learn magic. He learned the truth about himself — who he truly was, what he had done, what he had hidden from himself for twenty years. The shame was so total that he tried to walk off the mountain and never return.

But he could not. The path had changed. He could not find his way down.

He returned to the immortal. "Now you are ready," the immortal said.

"For what?"

"To learn that magic is not about power. It is about seeing clearly what you are. Everything else follows from that."

Zhou became a great Taoist master. He never demonstrated a single magical trick. But those who studied under him said that sitting in his presence was like being washed clean.