Cheng Qian quickly ran off before Yan Zhengming could attempt to bribe the boy into taking the punishment for him as well.

Back at Qing’an Dwelling, Cheng Qian copied the scriptures till midnight. He only went out once for dinner after Xueqing called him, and stayed in his study for the rest time. Only Xueqing could make him go out in situations like these. One time, when Cheng Qian had brushed off Xueqing’s request, the Taoist boy had decided to wait for him and had ended up starving until past midnight. From that point on, no matter how much he didn’t want to be disturbed, Cheng Qian never ignored him a second time.

After finishing a long stretch of writing, Cheng Qian went to the Library under the light of the moon and stars.

This was his first time opening the gate of the Library by himself, as well as his first time walking in there with permission. Cheng Qian only lingered for a short while around the section of sword, cultivation method and charm books where he’d always stayed during his previous visits, before heading downstairs to the second-to-the-last floor as he’d been told to do by his master.

He was in fact good at agreeing on the surface but rebelling in the shadows. However, he hated doing that to his master.

This floor was still a secluded place, though slightly better than the one below it. Books were set out in a neat order, plainly rarely touched. Cheng Qian randomly picked out several volumes. The front side of each page was a portrait and the back side recorded this disciple’s life story—his name, how he got accepted into the sect, his conduct, how he got into Tao, what his Tao was, his rises and falls, when he joined the majority, and finally, the assessment given by others after his death.

Some disciples went missing and some were expelled from the sect, thus no follow-up stories were recorded for those.

Cheng Qian just read those stories leisurely in the beginning. But after a while, he began to feel drowsy and soon drifted off to sleep, leaning against the corner of the shelf. It was the sound of the book in his hands hitting the ground that startled him awake, and the next thing he knew he was already lying on the ground in a daze.

Though the Library was protected by damp-proof and moth-proof charms, the lack of sunlight for years had given it a very bleak aura. The cold ground made Cheng Qian shudder and at that moment, he caught sight of something under the shelf.

The slit between the bottom shelf and the ground was very narrow; only those with very slender arms could slip their hands inside and reach the object. Cheng Qian had fallen to the temptation of rolling up his sleeve and reaching his arm into the crevice, and after groping around he dragged something out.

It was also a portrait, but it strangely seemed to have been cut into two pieces with its lower half missing. Only the upper part of the man in the portrait could be seen. He was wearing an old robe, but he didn’t look shabby or miserable. Though the painter was unknown, the man’s graceful bearing had been vividly brought into life with only a few strokes of ink.

Who… was this senior?

Cheng Qian turned the portrait over, but there was not a single character on the back.

He didn’t know drawing very much, but from a layman’s perspective, he thought the art was quite good. It didn’t seem to be a failed work… So why wasn’t there even a single character on it?¹

Cheng Qian was puzzled. But since it was hard for him to be interested in the story of someone he didn’t know, he quickly lost interest, put away the portrait, went upstairs where he picked out several books to read back in his residence.

Time flew by. On the 6th day of 6th month of the lunar calendar, the master and his apprentices concluded their mind-numbing routine classes and marched down the mountain in a great procession.

Sure enough, the “great procession” was created single-handedly by the first senior brother, Yan Zhengming.

This guy had prepared several large carriages: one for carrying him, and the rest for carrying his luggage—which was essential for living in his eyes, yet purely a pile of trash in others’.

Except for him, everyone else—including the sole girl, Puddle—only carried a wooden sword and a traveling bag, though Cheng Qian also took two bundles of books with him which he hung on his saddle.

Yet despite all that, young master Yan still complained incessantly. He hadn’t left Fuyao Mountain for a whole seven years; the arduousness of the journey was killing him.

Young master Yan didn’t think there was any problem with a man sitting in a carriage alone in the daytime, but he felt sorry to see his master and junior brothers and sister being exposed to the sun and wind. That was why he popped his head out and said to his skinny master on the back of a skinny horse, “Master, please get on the carriage with junior brothers; it’s too hot outside.”

“My apprentice, you’re truly filial,” Muchun Zhenren sighed.

Ultimately this young man’s character had grown as he aged. Despite his worsening narcissism, Yan Zhengming did become more sensible than before—for instance, the young master Yan who never knew how to read other people’s faces before had actually caught a hint of sarcasm in his master’s words.

But in the end, Master refused his proposal. He just threw Puddle who had been in the basket on his back into Yan Zhengming’s carriage, and let her drool all over her first senior brother. Muchun Zhenren turned his head and saw Cheng Qian. This third disciple of his still did not look like he had recovered since the charms’ backfire on him with his pallid face.

Therefore Muchun insisted to him, “Get in your senior brother’s carriage for a rest. Don’t pretend to be strong. You can read books inside.”

“Right. Little Copper Coin, come to play with junior sister. There’s enough room for you two to roll about,” said Yan Zhengming.

Cheng Qian refused him without the least hesitation and didn’t forget to have a dig at him. “Senior Brother, you’re being too modest. Look at this fleet of carriages—it could even match the wedding procession of an imperial concubine.”²

This boy always took his good will ungratefully! Yan Zhengming furiously pulled down the curtain, not wanting to see that little bastard again.

Cheng Qian remembered that master had said first senior brother got into Tao through swordsmanship, and such cultivators mostly had a strong will—except a few eccentrics like Yan Zhengming.

But he himself was different. Master said he got into Tao through heart.

What was “got into Tao through heart”?

This question had been plaguing Cheng Qian’s head. He’d spent a few days in the Library, yet still was not very clear about what the “heart” referred to. With various opinions being widely divided, he didn’t know which to trust. But all those divergent views had mentioned the same point: “those who got into Tao through swordsmanship exercise their physique; those who got into Tao through heart exercise their mentality.”

To exercise mentality was to temper one’s willpower. Concentration, fortitude, pain, stamina and so on, were all included. If his willpower was strong enough, a cultivator could follow his heart’s desire without deviating. Since Cheng Qian had just crossed the threshold, the most basic way he could find to exercise his mentality was to mortify himself.

Therefore, he had already decided to consider this sweltering journey as a way to practice asceticism.

After three days’ travel, the master and his apprentices arrived at the shore of the East Sea.

Nearby was a small town named Dragon-Taming Town where there were many shops selling all kinds of magic tools, may they be real or fake. In fine weather, one could see celestial mountains peeking in the distance when standing at the seaport. This town was thronged with tourists from all over the country whatever the season.

But never had it been as bustling as it was this year.

By the time they arrived in town, all inns and hotels had been filled to capacity. Yan Zhengming suggested sending a Taoist child to ask around about the most expensive hotel in the area, planning to book several deluxe rooms whatever the price.

Master turned a deaf ear to his lousy idea.

The old weasel knew the way well. He led them nonstop to the southeast outskirt of Dragon-Taming Town, toward a row of thatched cottages.

Aesthetically, the architectural style of those shacks was similar to that of a stable. Several chickens idled around the door, and next to the cottages was a pigsty built with stones where a fat pig was staring curiously at young master Yan’s ostentatious fleet of carriages.

Yan Zhengming pushed open the carriage door, scanned the environment with an unpleasant frown and reached his arm to poke Cheng Qian. “What the heck is this place? An outhouse?”

By now, he had forgotten that he’d just been irritated by Cheng Qian. Obviously, Yan Zhengming wasn’t the sort of narrow-minded person who bore a grudge. Perhaps his main occupation was to wallow in his own beauty in every possible way.

Cheng Qian gave him a sympathetic look, saying, “I just saw Master go knock on the door—I’m afraid this is where we’re going to put up tonight.”

Yan Zhengming: “…”

He’d rather sleep in the carriage.

Nothing was more depressing than traveling for him. After a long time, the indignant Yan Zhengming thought of his responsibility as first senior brother. He gazed around and grumbled at Li Yun, “Where’s Underbite?”

Since the day Li Yun was motivated by Cheng Qian, he’d shied away from hankering for fun and games. He had followed Cheng Qian’s example of holding a book all the time while on horseback during the whole trip and even upon hearing that question, pointed somewhere without looking up. In the direction he pointed to stood a big wolfberry tree at the door of a cottage, and from the gap of the leafy branches popped a funny head.

Han Yuan shouted to his senior brothers who were wearing different expressions, “Looking for me? I’m picking wolfberries for you. There’re so many and they’re so sweet!”

This idiot…

Yan Zhengming flung the carriage door shut with the determination that he’d rather die than get off the carriage. Nevertheless, he got off in the end—because his junior sister, who wasn’t yet able to communicate with others, had peed in his carriage due to the long journey.

Because of that, Yan Zhengming’s face remained dark until midnight.

The group of thatched cottages had a name which described themselves very accurately: “Shabby Inn”.

There was a line of characters on each side of the door. On the left it said, “Three coins per night,” and on the right, “Stay or piss off.” A fierce-looking monster was drawn on the door. There wasn’t even a servant to welcome the guests. That was how they ran an inn?

The shopkeeper didn’t show up until master had knocked at the door for a short while. It was a burly man who was more than eight Chi high, who looked exactly like a small mountain—his height and his waist had practically the same measurements!

With his hair and beard sticking up, his face looking like a bronze basin, and his thick lips curled downwards, he was the spitting image of a debt-collecting scoundrel.

Li Yun’s horse was frightened by his appearance. It neighed and trotted backwards a distance of one Zhang, nearly hitting Yan Zhengming’s carriage with panic written all over its face.

The master, however, amiably cupped a fist in his hand in front of his chest and smiled. “Brother Wen Ya, long time no see.”

The apprentices’ and Taoist children’s mouths all fell open, feeling that they couldn’t face the two characters “Wen(tender)” and “Ya(elegant)” anymore.

The “iron tower” had looked irritated when opening the door, but when he realized that the visitor was Muchun Zhenren, his countenance eased up a little. He mumbled, “Xiao-Chun? Why are you here?”

This form of address gave Cheng Qian a big shock, and he nearly fell off his horse, his skin crawling.

“Come in.” Wen Ya glanced at young master Yan’s impressive procession and scowled slightly. “Are you escorting a bride to the groom’s home?”

Li Yun, Cheng Qian and Han Yuan simultaneously looked at Yan Zhengming, sniggering. But the latter only took out his new sword and with an evil grin, whipped Li Yun’s timid horse across its bottom. The poor creature lifted its front legs and leapt forward hysterically, making the pig snort and startling the chickens in front of the door until they flew about, before setting off on a gallop.

Yan Zhengming then swaggered into the shabbiest cottage he had ever stepped foot in with a hopeless sadness in his heart.

When a small pair of wings suddenly sprouted out of her back—even though they were a part of her, they definitely hurt the same way a normal kid’s growing pains did. She probably hadn’t been able to find Muchun Zhenren, or her first senior brother who was busy acting up, or even her fourth senior brother who had buried himself in memorizing the sect rules, so the only person she could grievously weep to was Cheng Qian.

Cheng Qian held Puddle’s wings and observed them carefully for a few minutes, discovering that her wings were perfectly attached to her body. The only problem was that they looked kind of like chicken wings. A worry formed his mind: if master saw them, would he ask the cooks to make grilled chicken wings for a month on end?

“It’s nothing to cry about. They’re a gift from your mother.” Cheng Qian clumsily picked her up, feeling that the girl seemed to have lost quite much weight—or at least, she wasn’t as heavy as she looked.

Did her body get lighter after a part of it changed into a bird?

Normally, a good number of years of cultivation was required for monsters to change into human shape. Cheng Qian had caught a few glimpses of records about monster cultivators, but he just carelessly skimmed through them as if they were short stories since they didn’t have any actual use to him.

Since Puddle was half-human and half-monster, she should have the inherent ability to change between human and monster forms, but he wasn’t sure if she could freely do so as she wished.

Cheng Qian leveled his line of sight with little Puddle’s, trying to say to her in a mild tone, “I don’t know what to do, but you should try concentrating. Just focus on making them smaller and hide them… ‘hide’, you know? Hey, Junior Sister, can you understand human language?”

Puddle stared at him with big innocent eyes, making it hard to tell whether she understood it or not. But seeing her muddled expression, Cheng Qian was prepared to believe that she didn’t understand anything.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Forget it, I’ll take you to find master.”

Puddle flapped over his arms, muttering “ah ah”. Then she clenched her fist, face reddening and eyes crossing from holding the breath.

Just when Cheng Qian thought she could deal with it herself, the small wings on Puddle’s back suddenly extended to seven or eight Chi long with a swishing sound. Feathers went all over the floor, and Cheng Qian was nearly slapped in the face by the enlargement of her wings.

Cheng Qian stared in astonishment at his junior sister who had changed into a giant bird. The back of Puddle’s clothes had been torn apart by her wings; luckily she was still at the age of wearing open pants. But that pair of wings was indeed too big, and the girl carrying them was so small that she almost couldn’t be seen amidst those wings. She looked like a large moth floating in the air—a truly weird scene.

“…”

Cheng Qian recovered from his shock and gazed in dismay at Puddle. “I asked you to make them smaller, not bigger!”

The little girl that Cheng Qian could have lifted with a sole hand had now become extremely heavy because of her giant wings. If he hadn’t been practicing swordplay for as long as he had, he would’ve hardly been able to carry her.

Puddle looked at him innocently. She swayed in Cheng Qian’s arms, unable to keep her back straight because of the weight of the wings.

They still needed to find Master for help. Cheng Qian strenuously held her and walked toward the outside. However… Together, they got stuck in the door of Qing’an Dwelling.

Cheng Qian: “…”

Good Heavens…

Perhaps a girl of any age would never love to face the fact that she was stuck in the door and couldn’t get out. Puddle wasn’t a baby who cried often, but now looking injuredly at her wings, she cried out loud.

Normal kids could cry as they wanted, but Puddle’s cry had the power of collapsing houses.

Cheng Qian was caught in a terrible mess. He tried his best to keep his balance and talk with her at the same time. “Having big wings doesn’t mean you’re fat… really. There, there, stop crying, try folding your wings. F-O-L-D, understood?”

Puddle looked at him, sobbing and sniffing. At Cheng Qian’s comforting words, she gradually stopped tears.

Cheng Qian was temporarily relieved, harboring the distant hope that she had really understood this time.

But then his little junior sister astounded him by fully spreading her wings. She tried flapping her wings and, after activating some kind of hidden instinct, slowly rose into the air.

Her huge wings caused a whirlwind, blowing great clouds of dust into the sky. Several delicate orchids in the yard suffered, tilting topsy-turvy in the wind and sand. Cheng Qian couldn’t open his eyes, and only felt that his clothes had been caught by a pair of hands.

Puddle’s plump hands turned into claws which tightly clutched Cheng Qian. Cheng Qian immediately had a premonition.

And the next second, his premonition came true.

He was lifted into the sky by the mighty Puddle. His heart sank. Cheng Qian’s first instinct was to struggle, but as she was flying higher and higher, he didn’t dare to move anymore and only shouted his junior sister’s formal name in the roaring wind. “Han Tan! Put me down!”

Puddle shut her ears to his screaming… even if she heard, she didn’t seem to understand.

Never had Cheng Qian imagined that his very first experience of riding on clouds would happen like this. He wanted to laugh and weep all at once. He couldn’t help wondering if, even though he had escaped death in the Demon Valley, he was going to end up dying after all under his own junior sister’s claws.

With him in tow, Puddle flew over the gate of the Qing’an Dwelling and above the green-as-jade bamboo forest. Eventually, the entire Fuyao Mountain had disappeared beneath their feet.

Cheng Qian looked down at the panorama of a sweeping mountain ridge dyed in emerald green. On one side of the ridge was a slight slope softly drenched in light, while on the other side was a deep and gloomy valley hidden in the shadow of the mountains.

Countless caves and empty yards loomed along the mountains. Some had steles at the entrance, some had statues, and some had none. In the passage of thousands of years, people came and went, serving as the links between past and future. Those cultivation methods and all other records were buried deep in the Library as the blood and bones of history. They were probably the products of those almighty beings, talents, persons of virtues, or even villains…

But now, they were all no more.

The whole Fuyao Sect had only a weasel master left with several naughty apprentices, hiding behind the world of mortals. Only the whirlwind(Fuyao) was still spiraling up to the sky.

At this height the wind blew keenly, the sharp edge biting Cheng Qian. However, he gradually lost the haunting fear that had plagued him at first.

Cheng Qian exhaled a breath, letting it go together with the hatred that had smouldered in his heart for years.

He thought once again of Lord Beiming, and then of his parents who, probably, were counting the little money they had somewhere in the remote hinterland. Suddenly, he clearly understood the secret wishes that he had hidden in the depths of his heart.

Why did he aspire to be someone like Lord Beiming?

If someday he became an almighty being who freely traveled around the world, and to whom all creatures cowered and all human beings knelt… would his parents feel regretful when he returned home?

Right now, as he floated amongst the clouds and watched the caves and yards fade into distance, Cheng Qian’s boggled heart suddenly emptied.

Their mortal lifetime only had thirty or fifty years left. Even if he incessantly schemed to return a slap to his parents’ faces now, what would happen then?

Perhaps they would have already ceased to exist by the time he actually achieved something.

Or perhaps they would still be alive. But after more than half a lifetime had passed, even if they felt regret over the child they had sent away in the early years, would there be anything left other than regret?

If he had really been special to them, why would they have sent him away so ruthlessly?

In the first place there hadn’t been any affection for him, much less something like lingering guilt or hoping for his forgiveness.

Cheng Qian suddenly relaxed his taut shoulders, throwing himself at the mercy of his junior sister.

He realized that the hatred he’d considered as profound to him, was by all means unfounded.

There was a wall breaking down in Cheng Qian’s heart. In an instant, he heard the murmurs in the Fuyao Mountain again, like what he heard when first senior brother fell into meditation. But this time, those currents of air didn’t brush past him; they ran into his body like rivers emptying into the sea.

Without catching or tarrying, the currents came and went like happiness and worries. They swirled into a circle, connecting Cheng Qian’s body with the world as if he had always been a part of it.

It was hard to say how long had passed when the cry of a crane sounded. A white crane soared up into the sky from Fuyao Mountain and circled around them. The sniveling Puddle who had gotten lost in the air followed the crane and flew downwards through instinct. Led by the crane, she landed before the Unknown Hall, Muchun’s residence.

Cheng Qian had still been in a trance when his feet touched the ground.

Muchun Zhenren helped Puddle out when she’d gotten stuck again in the gate of the Unknown Hall. After he caressed her wings, the wings were wrapped in some unknown power and eventually shrank into her body, leaving a pair of red birthmarks on her back.

Muchun didn’t wake Cheng Qian up. He stood aside and waited, cuddling the fast-asleep Puddle. When the sun set to the other side of the mountain, Cheng Qian finally came back to himself, realizing that his legs had gone numb from standing.

Muchun Zhenren took a windproof lantern off from the gate and gave it to Cheng Qian to light his way back. “It’s too late today, you can go back. Tomorrow you can stay to learn charms with your first senior brother after the swordplay practice.”

Cheng Qian did a double-take when master said that. Surprised and muddleheaded, he asked, “Master, was… Was that energy feel?”

Muchun Zhenren nodded, beaming. “I was right about you. Of all my apprentices, your aptitude is the best.”

Was that “of all my apprentices” really necessary?

Cheng Qian didn’t know how to respond to this. Anyway, he didn’t feel proud hearing his evaluation—if his excellent aptitude was the result of comparing him with Yan Zhengming, Li Yun and Han Yuan, he didn’t think this was something he could boast about.

Watching his figure walking steadily along the mountain path, Muchun Zhenren had a bittersweet mood. After all these years, he finally had an apprentice who was willing to make efforts. Stroking the crane’s graceful neck, he said to himself, “If his martial brothers knew that, would they be stimulated?”

The white crane rubbed him and flew away, as if telling the sect leader—what are you wishfully dreaming about!?

After a few paces, Yan Zhengming thought of something and turned back. He fished a package of milk cakes out of his sleeve and gave it to Cheng Qian churlishly. “Take it, little dwarf.”

Cheng Qian readily accepted it without saying thanks. He waved his hand impatiently, signaling Yan Zhengming to piss off quickly.

That day, he finished reading Introduction to Charms. After finishing the desserts, he suddenly felt like cleaning the ground floor of the Library.

The ground floor of the Library was like a dump. With no one coming for years, it had been covered by a thick layer of dust. All other floors, walls and shelves were carved with moth-proof and damp-proof charms, but only the ground floor was an exception. Everywhere you could see worm-eaten and page-missing books, whose contents were multifarious and disorderly. Cookbooks, gardening books, esoterica for brewing, and even a pornographic album—a buttock of the man on the head-page had been “eaten” by worms.

Perhaps due to the influence of first senior brother, Cheng Qian just felt disturbed by the messy sight, so he couldn’t help but decide to clean it up.

This cleaning rewarded Cheng Qian with a surprise—he found a wall bestrewn with small characters behind a broken shelf. Brushing the dust and cobwebs off, he finally saw the characters clearly.

The title was concise: Diabolism.

Cheng Qian was startled; he didn’t expect that such things existed in the Library of Fuyao Sect. He wavered, thinking that he shouldn’t peep. But when he lifted his foot to leave, he reminded himself of Lord Beiming.

Cheng Qian forced his eyes to not rove. He cleaned the ground floor up at a snail’s pace and went upstairs reluctantly.

But shortly after he left, he regretted it and quickly ran back, reading the writings on the wall word by word.

That wall recorded hundreds of thousands of kinds of Diabolism, among which were those who became diabolical from sensuality, bloodthirstiness, obsession… Some volunteered and some were the result of coincidence. But Cheng Qian soon found that apart from a few disgusting cultivation methods, many of the others didn’t seem so abnormal.

Among demonic cultivators, some people also practiced the Tao of sword and charms. And even the classification and practicing ways of charms weren’t so different from what master had taught first senior brother.

Cheng Qian had been seeking the way of feeling qi in the natural world and absorbing it into his body, so he’d read many different types of cultivation methods. Thus, he was also surprised that the way of absorbing qi recorded here was very similar to those recorded in other cultivation methods; they all required “inner peace”, “purity of mind” and such.

Cheng Qian was imbued with doubts. So the next day, he decided to ask his master.

Muchun Zhenren lifted his own head upon hearing the question. For a second, Cheng Qian felt a black mist flash across his eyes. But it was so quick that Cheng Qian thought perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Diabolism?” Muchun Zhenren looked distracted. There was a silence before he asked, “Why are you asking about that?”

Yan Zhengming used a book of swordplay to cover his face and gave Cheng Qian a good kick under the desk, lest the brat give away that he’d taken him into the Library without permission.

Cheng Qian was banged into the stone desk by this kick and almost fell. Angered, he kicked back at once, leaving a black footprint on first senior brother’s white satin shoe, and forgot to answer master’s question.

Muchun Zhenren had already gotten used to them kicking each other under the desk, so he didn’t pay much attention. He deliberated carefully and said, “The stalk and the pillar, the leader and the beautiful Xi Shi, and all sorts of strange things and fantastic phenomena–they are all one from the viewpoint of Tao. There’s no right way to the Great Tao. Different routes can lead to the same destination; demonic cultivators are just taking a different way. It’s not strange that those ways have similarities.”

Cheng Qian found his words strangely familiar. Then he remembered—wasn’t that what he said to swindle first senior brother in the Library?

As he thought about it, he hurried to lift his feet and avoided first senior brother’s second kick.

Cheng Qian couldn’t shake off the feeling that master was putting him off, so he questioned closely, “Master, why do we choose this one instead of the other?”

Muchun Zhenren looked at him silently. At length, he said meaningfully, “The plum tree by the road has fruited, but nobody goes to pick. Do you know why? Because it must be bitter!”

His words were like a pot of cold water pouring on Cheng Qian’s head down to his tailbone, cooling off his inner depths thoroughly. He felt that master had seen through him completely.

After meeting Lord Beiming, the words “grandmaster of all magic” had been rooted into his mind. While in the Demon Valley, those monsters that were invincible in his eyes seemed to be unworthy of mentioning in Lord Beiming’s. Even the arrogant Zipeng Zhenren trembled in his wake.

Last time, when Li Yun talked about demonic cultivators, he was shouted down by Yan Zhengming. That enabled Cheng Qian to have a glimpse of people’s common attitude towards demonic cultivators. But anyhow, he was still attracted to seek the truth on his own.

Before being disabused today, Cheng Qian had thought a lot. He’d been thinking that since he already had a partiality, he would always be able to retort no matter what master said. However, the older, the wiser. Although Muchun Zhenren’s words seemed to weigh light, it actually dealt a heavy blow to Cheng Qian’s chest, shattering all of those excuses he’d came up with into pieces.

Cheng Qian’s curiosity evaporated in a flash. He inclined his head respectfully, saying, “Many thanks, Master.”

Cheng Qian’s comprehension exceeded Muchun Zhenren’s expectations. Feeling gratified and satisfied, he coughed to draw his apprentices’ attention and announced, “Apprentices, work hard these days; we’ll go on a trip.”

“What?”

“Where?”

Exclaimed the apprentices in chorus. Some were delighted and some were shocked—for someone like Han Yuan, a trip was of course like a festival; but for Yan Zhengming, it was like a thunderbolt out of the clear sky.

Muchun Zhenren said, “The decennial Celestial Market is about to open. You only have a very narrow view of the real cultivation world on Fuyao Mountain; it’s about time you open your eyes to the outside. And I’ll drop by at a few friends’. Since we all have apprentices, comparison is unavoidable, so make sure your master doesn’t lose face.”

Losing face… was also unavoidable.

Yan Zhengming was the first to understand what that meant. He sat square and said in all seriousness, “Master, in case I bring you into contempt, you may just take junior brothers and sister; I’ll stay to look after the house.”

“Taoist children can look after the house, it needn’t bother the first apprentice of our sect,” said Muchun, looking at him benevolently.

“No way! What if things go wrong in the mountain cave again? And what if some thieves covet the treasures here and come to steal?” Yan Zhengming retorted plausibly.

Muchun Zhenren replied unhurriedly, “Zipeng Zhenren and I have reached an agreement that day. She has sealed the cave, so you don’t need to worry. Plus, there are charms at the foot of the mountain and Taoist children guarding the gate; common thieves can’t go up.”

Yan Zhengming was about to continue arguing, but Han Yuan, who had been itching for the trip, couldn’t help but cut in, “Senior Brother, why are you acting like a young lady who never steps out of the house?”

Young master Yan’s face turned crimson from anger. He gave a sweeping jerk of his sleeves and flung off, feeling that the Hans couldn’t be more detestable.

Muchun Zhenren saw him off smilingly. Then stroking Han Yuan’s head, he threatened him with the same kindly face, “Xiao-Yuan, since you made no effort to seek progress and haven’t remembered the sect rules so far, how about you stay and watch the house?”

Han Yuan suddenly lost his high spirit, like a frosted eggplant.

The next ten days, Fuyao Mountain was thrown into bedlam by the first apprentice, Yan Zhengming.

In order to not go on the trip, Yan Zhengming feigned illness and did everything he could to oppose his master, to the point that he nearly acted shamelessly to beg his master.

Unfortunately, Muchun Zhenren steadfastly refused to indulge him this time. His determination to get his first apprentice down the mountain was rather unshakable.

Han Yuan was exactly the opposite. In order to go out, he spent almost every second and minute on memorizing the sect rules. Nevertheless, this guy’s brain was probably not designed for this. Those characters made his poor head spin, yet he still couldn’t memorize them all. Cheng Qian had seen Han Yuan knock his head against the wall, as though he was demented.

And the master also became mysterious about his whereabouts.

That day, Cheng Qian spread a piece of rice paper on the Peaceful Stone¹, writing the Scriptures on Clarity and Stillness from memory.

Since the day he received the answer to his doubts from Master, he’d had a feeling that he seemed to have touched something, but it was wrapped in a thin film which he had no means to break for now, so he was a bit anxious.

Anxiety does no good to cultivation. Cheng Qian had to stop his other work to write scriptures to calm his mind down.

But halfway through that, he heard a knock at the door. Xueqing went to answer it and after a minute came back with a chubby girl in his arms. That was exactly his junior sister, Puddle.

Puddle had half-demon blood, so she was naturally different from normal girls. She had a fondness for exertion of an unusual degree of activity—climbing the tree and up to the roof was just a cinch for her. But she couldn’t speak yet. On this score, she was more like a clever and nimble animal full of intelligence. She was already able to recognize others’ emotions by their tones and behaviors when she was still in an egg. But strangely, she was extremely slow when it came to specific speech.

Master said, it could be her demon blood at work; it wouldn’t be strange if she couldn’t speak even when she reached ten.

Puddle probably sneaked out when master didn’t notice. There were only two things that could attract kids: food and playthings. Puddle usually preferred going to the Land of the Tender, because as a neat freak, first senior brother would always prepare a lot of good food to get rid of her as soon as possible. Once Puddle came, he’d use food as bait and ask her to bring disaster to others. Puddle secondly liked to go to Han Yuan’s place—as Han Yuan himself was a “plaything” for her.

But she rarely came for Cheng Qian, because Cheng Qian didn’t like playing with her.

And she was never interested in Li Yun—he had turned her into a toad.

As it was rare to have junior sister in Qing’an Dwelling, Cheng Qian was surprised. “Why are you here?”

“Ah ahh,” Puddle groaned. She went up to pull Cheng Qian’s trousers, and with a puff, her clothes were ripped up by something behind her. Startled, Cheng Qian turned her over and saw two wings of an unknown bird growing out of her back!

Usually, those who grew up together would naturally get close to each other and become good friends. However, this didn’t apply to those whelps on the Fuyao Mountain. One was overly coddled, one was always up to mischief, one was extremely detached, and one was unusually slovenly in dressing style and manner… But after the trip to the Demon Valley, the estrangement between the four martial brothers unknowingly melted away, and thus they began to reveal their true nature.

Muchun Zhenren felt very grateful about this at first. But soon he realized, that it would have been better if they had remained the same as they were before.

A mischievous child is only a child; two together makes 1000 ducks; and three combined, seas are overturned; as for four…

Peace has escaped from Fuyao Mountain—

One day, the more and more presumptuous young master Yan hit upon a strange idea that he wanted to put a censer under every junior brother’s desk. Thus, the Mission Hall kept emitting smoke that whole day like a large stockpot, while the culprit just slept comfortably in the vast expanse of whiteness like a joyful dumpling floating on the soup.

Li Yun couldn’t abide the sight of his cosy sleep. After a flash of inspiration, he took out the formula of “Sweet-Dream Incense”.

“Sweet-Dream Incense” was, without doubt, not as good natured as its name. It was said that it could bring people erotic dreams when burnt during their sleep.

Knowing that, Han Yuan volunteered to prepare it.

As everyone knows, Han Yuan always did things topsy-turvy, so what would you expect from a person who couldn’t even read characters?

What’s worse, the little beggar was also passionate about innovation. He daringly added his own ideas to the formula —he mixed two extra spices to it, which accidentally made the “Sweet-Dream Incense”  psychedelic. Then he stuffed it into his own censer expectantly when first senior brother was having a morning nap.

That day, all the creatures around the Mission Hall went crazy.

Two butterflies floundered over master’s head, quivering their wings and making it seem as if master was wearing a hairpin of the gaudiest kind.

And Li Yun’s new favorite pet—a bellied katydid, crawled drunkenly out of its cage. At some strange pace, it plunged into Cheng Qian’s ink slab. Cheng Qian’s hand which had been lifting a writing brush, ready to dip it in ink, froze in the air. The flecks of ink on his sleeve were like a cluster of black plum blossoms.

Master had never been so attractive to butterflies that he couldn’t even continue reading the sculptures. He pushed Puddle, who climbed onto his head to catch butterflies, back to her basket on his back. Discomfited and exasperated, he rebuked Han Yuan in his drawling voice like a laodan¹ singing an opera, and commanded him to put the censor out.

Han Yuan grinned cheekily. He took out the censer from under the table and was about to splash it with a bowl of tea. As Li Yun snickered at his master’s new look, Cheng Qian picked out the katydid using two brushes and tossed it into the censer, tittering, “Junior Brother, let me do you a favor.”

Li Yun: “Oh no!”

But it was too late. The katydid and Han Yuan’s tea had showered on the censer. Those censers that young master Yan brought here all had waterproof charms on them. If you did want to put it out, you’d have to pour the water through some special holes and canals. Being provoked, the waterproof charm fought back right away. A flame leapt up and sputtered, but surprisingly Li Yun’s katydid wasn’t burnt dead. It scooted out of the fire in a cloak of flames and scurried into master’s moustache, leaving a sharp streak of sparks across the air.

That was where the spices in the incense came in—the katydid burnt master’s mustache into a strand of flavorsome charred hair.

On that very same day, both Han Yuan and Lin Yun were punished by writing the scriptures twenty times; Yan Zhengming also didn’t escape the punishment. He was made to write it out ten times because he was the initiator and it was too unreasonable of him to sleep overtly in the morning class. Although Cheng Qian played a part too, considering that he had no intention of that and had admitted his fault timely, he was the only one that was spared.

Because of this, Yan Zhengming unashamedly halted Cheng Qian on his way back to Qing’an Dwelling in the evening. Putting on the air of first senior brother, he said, “Little Copper Coin², I happen to have free time today, do you want me to give some guidance on your swordsmanship?”

Through the past period of getting along with him, Cheng Qian had already got him sussed out—when it came to eating or playing, young master Yan was bound to march first. But once asked to sit down to study, he’d immediately become a “sick beauty”, grumbling that he was aching from toenails to hair.

Just now when Yan Zhengming was practicing swordplay, he even claimed to have heatstroke.

He offered to give some guidance? Only when  pigs fly.

Unsurprisingly, in the next moment, his first senior brother spoke out his true purpose unblushingly. “Alas, I suddenly remembered that master asked me to copy the scriptures. Hmm… it seems that I don’t have free time now, but if you could help me with that…”

As they saying goes, an owl in the house—he doesn’t come with nothing.³

So Cheng Qian declined him without any hesitation. “Senior Brother, you might as well just write the scriptures. I dare not trouble you to do such heavy manual labor as practicing swordplay. I’m afraid you may sprain your back.”

Yan Zhengming: “…”

Why couldn’t people forever remain the same as they used to be? His hypocritical yet courteous third junior brother would never return.

“Wait!” Yan Zhengming was loath to give up. He turned his head and scanned around. Seeing nobody else, he threw his arm around Cheng Qian’s neck and pulled him over, saying quietly, “Write me a few copies, and I’ll tell you a secret.”

Cheng Qian sighed and said in all earnestness, “First Senior Brother, if the secret is ‘how to tie your belt to make it flutter’, you needn’t tell me.”

Without a word, Yan Zhengming just took advantage of his height and abducted Cheng Qian by carrying him under his arms—he walked so quickly that it was as if wind blew under his feet, not one bit like someone who’d gotten sunstroke.

Cheng Qian seldom wandered around the mountain. His life was confined to a narrow trip between Qing’an Dwelling and Mission Hall.

Of course it wasn’t because he had no curiosity, but that he had strong self-control. He thought that it would be unacceptable if he ran about before he truly learned something. Therefore, although he knew there were a lot of caves left by predecessors, he never visited any of them.

Yan Zhengming carried him to the top of a hill. In the whistling of the wind, he took him to a big stone which resembled a monkey. “Here we are.”

Cheng Qian shot a glance at the stone and was surprised. “This… Is this a statue put up for little junior brother?”

“Little brat, just go on with your acid humor, you’ll be begging me soon enough.” Said Yan Zhengming, his tone triumphant.

Finishing that, he produced a handkerchief out of his bosom and wiped the dust off the stone, revealing a crack outlining the shape of a gate.

Yan Zhengming put his hand on that “gate”, head down and eyes closed for a moment. After some creaks, he pushed open the gate on the stone monkey’s stomach. It was a dark cramped cave inside, with a flight of steps heading downwards to the deep.

Yan Zhengming: “This gate can only be opened by people who can absorb qi into their body. Unless you go to beg master, no one else except me can take you in.”

With that, he bent and went in.

Cheng Qian followed him languidly. He wasn’t very interested, so he asked perfunctorily, “What’s this place?”

“No name, but master calls it a Library.” Answered Yan Zhengming as he led the way.

Cheng Qian was taken aback.

Charms were carved on both sides of the stone walls. It seemed that they could sense people coming in, as the walls that were originally dark gave off dim light as they entered. It wasn’t dazzling, but enough for illumination.

“It has an expansive collection of ancient books and records passed down through thousands of years. Apart from scriptures of various schools which master preferes the most, there are many cultivation methods and swordplay collected by seniors.” If Yan Zhengming had a tail, it must have been sticking up now. “Little Copper Coin, if you can help me when master asks me to copy scriptures or sect rules… I can open the gate for you every ten days, how about that?”

As he spoke, they were reaching the end of the steps. A burst of the smell of ink from old papers assaulted their nostrils. Cheng Qian couldn’t help but ask doubtfully, “If so, then why did I never see senior brother come down here?”

“You can’t bite off more than you can chew; and more haste, less speed. I’m focusing on the Fuyao Wooden Swordplay right now, I’ll get easily distracted if I learn more than I should.” Yan Zhengming answered sternly.

Just one set of introduction swordplay had been taking him seven or eight years to practice, he really had the cheek to say that—

The narrow blind alley led suddenly into an open space. A huge cave presented itself. A book shelf stood there majestically from the ground to the roof. Piles of glass tablets, bamboo slips, hides and paper were neatly arranged by categories, including cultivation methods, swordplay, and varieties of erratic tricks, as well as travel notes of famous mountains and great rivers and so forth.

And in the back of the cave, there were steps leading to even deeper.

“The Library has nine floors in total with numerous collections. Li Yun’s formulas were just stolen out of here by me when I came to do cleanings. Tsk, the ne’er-do-well—by the way, Copper Coin, have you decided to write scriptures for me or not?” Said Yan Zhengming, hands clasped behind him.

Cheng Qian felt he was a mouse falling into a rice jar—it fitted his wishes exactly.

He never felt Yan Zhengming was so pleasing to the eye. Right now, he would even answer yes if his first senior asked him to marry him, let alone to copy scriptures!

Thus from then on, Cheng Qian started a more secluded life. He not only worked hard on his own study but also snatched every minute of his free time to share the mounting punishment of first senior brother’s, and had to digest the books he’d read in the Library in the dead of the night.

As promised, every ten days Yan Zhengming would open the gate for him. Cheng Qian was so covetous that he wished he could hold the entire Library in his brain. Every time he’d devour several passages and then used the next ten days to digest them.

Such days were full and elapsed very quickly. With the change of seasons, a year passed in a flash.

During this year, the Heavenly Monster, Puddle, had showed her nonhuman side—she’d learned to crawl, walk and jump very prematurely. Even though she was only one-year-old, her height already reached that of a three-or-four-year-old mortal girl.

Cheng Qian continued to visit the Library with unfailing regularity. Meanwhile, his handwriting was improving too, getting more and more like the characters on the stone gate at the mountain waist, and he even learned to imitate Yan Zhengming’s handwriting.

At first, Yan Zhengming thought that Cheng Qian would take several books on erratic tricks or anecdotes out on the sly, just as Li Yun did. But much to his surprise, he once caught a glimpse of him seriously reading swordplay and cultivation methods.

Yan Zhengming, the worthless first senior brother thus drew a conclusion—Copper Coin was crazy.

Cheng Qian was an absolute aberration on the Fuyao Mountain, especially in contrast with Han Yuan, who couldn’t even recognize all the characters of the sect rules after a year had passed since he entered the sect.

One day, when Yan Zhengming opened the gate of the Library for Cheng Qian again, he couldn’t help but ask the question he had wanted to ask.

“Copper Coin,” Said the young master seriously. “What the heck are you planning to do? To cause trouble at the Southern Heavenly Gates⁴?”

“Master said, ‘the stalk and the pillar, the leader and the beautiful Xi Shi⁵, and all sorts of strange things and fantastic phenomena–they are all one from the viewpoint of Tao.’ The Tao(paths) may take different shapes, it never departs from the original aim. So I plan to read more so as to complement to the cultivation methods of our sect.” Cheng Qian prevaricated.

“You’ve just entered the cultivation world for a year, why would you even rush to read cultivation methods?” Yan Zhengming said out of curiosity.

“Last year, when we got back from the Demon Valley, didn’t first senior brother say that you’ll pluck all of Zipeng Zhenren’s feathers out? How can you defeat her if you don’t learn any cultivation methods?”

Yan Zhengming got more surprised. “Yes, I did say that. But I also said ‘one day’. The old hen is more than eight hundred years old, while I’m just sixteen. What’s the hurry? Perhaps I’ll be more powerful than her after seven or eight hundred years.”

He was definitely daydreaming…

During last year, Yan Zhengming’s height growth had accelerated, he was more and more like an adult male. Immaturity was disappearing from his behaviors while sanguinity and elegance was being brought out. After a look at his own slim arms and slowly-growing height and another look at first senior brother, Cheng Qian was more or less envious.

But his admire and appreciation wasn’t enough to make him endure Yan Zhengming’s aggravating narcissism.

That guy seemed to feel his beauty could even outshine Song Yu and shame Pan An⁶. Every reflective surface—puddles after the rain, shiny blades, could all be used by him as a mirror. From his facial expressions when looking at the mirror, Cheng Qian could refer that Yan Zhengming’s heart must be full of praises for himself. Read more…