Evasive Talk and Deception

That evening, Qin Sang and Mingyue did evening lessons together, studying Taoist scriptures.

Like the Netherworld Scripture, Qin Sang couldn't understand it either. Fortunately, Daoist Jixin patiently explained everything. Qin Sang studied earnestly, found himself a piece of charcoal, and wrote down what he learned.

Late at night, back in his room, Qin Sang took out the "Netherworld Scripture" again. Comparing it with the characters he had just learned, he struggled to grasp the scripture's meaning—it was extremely difficult, but he took pleasure in it.

The next day, Daoist Jixin went down the mountain to perform a ritual and returned by noon, his donkey carrying a sack of coarse grain. In the afternoon, Mingyu steamed a pot of vegetable cornbread and fried a jar of salted fish, helping Daoist Jixin pack his travel bag and medicine chest.

On the ninth day, Qin Sang woke up and didn't see Daoist Jixin. He asked Mingyu and learned that he had set out at the hour of the Tiger. That day, he and Mingyu followed Daoist Jixin's instructions and managed without any mishaps.

On the morning of the tenth day, Qin Sang had been applying medicine daily, and his leg no longer hurt as much. The exhaustion had finally faded. Early in the morning, he set up a Tiger Subduing Long Fist stance in front of the house.

"Senior Brother, what kind of fist technique is that?"

Mingyu sat on a nearby stone, holding a bowl of congee, watching Qin Sang's graceful posture with a hint of eagerness.

"This martial art is called the Tiger Subduing Long Fist. What, the Daoist never taught you martial arts?"

Qin Sang had only been practicing the explosive force, but he was already drenched in sweat, feeling a pleasant openness throughout his body. He wiped his sweat and asked in return.

"No," Mingyu shook his head, biting the tip of his chopsticks, his face full of curiosity. "Senior Brother, does Master know martial arts too?"

"How would I know? I've only been here a few days."

Qin Sang rolled his eyes, thinking to himself. He had originally assumed that since Daoist Jixin dared to go into the mountains to gather herbs and wasn't afraid of wolves and tigers, he might have martial arts skills. That's why he deliberately practiced the fist technique in front of Mingyu to draw him into conversation.

If he knew martial arts, there was no reason not to teach his disciple. In the past few days of getting along, Qin Sang could sense that Daoist Jixin doted on Mingyu, treating him like his own son.

Could it really be that he was just an ordinary Daoist?

"On ordinary days, you only study scriptures and medicine with the Daoist? You never learned any spells?"

"Spells?"

Mingyu looked bewildered. "We mostly recite scriptures and learn characters. I've also studied divination books—I can interpret fortune slips, read characters, and sketch talismans—but I'm not skilled at it. Master still doesn't dare let me do it in front of others. I also know the procedures for rituals and can assist Master. He also teaches me to identify herbs, diagnose illnesses, and write prescriptions, but he says I still need to study for twenty more years before I can graduate, or else I'd be endangering people's lives."

Qin Sang's eyes lit up. "Aren't talismans spells? The other day, I heard that couple say their home was unsettled, and the Daoist gave them a talisman, saying it could ward off misfortune and drive away evil. Isn't that a spell?"

Mingyu chuckled, looked around, and lowered his voice. "Senior Brother, I'll tell you, but don't go spreading it outside. Master said all of this is just deception."

Deception?

You people have gods above!

Qin Sang said indignantly, "If it's not accurate, aren't you afraid they'll come back to confront you?"

"Matters of the profound—who can really say what's accurate and what isn't?"

Mingyu wagged his head. "Even if they do come back, there are ways with words to deflect them. You'll understand sooner or later, Senior Brother."

Qin Sang felt deeply disillusioned and was listless all day. Mingyu pestered him to learn the Tiger Subduing Long Fist, so he had to promise to teach him once his leg healed.

In the blink of an eye, Qin Sang had been at the Taoist temple for over twenty days. The three of them—master and disciples—had truly gotten to know each other.

During these days, Qin Sang had been diligently practicing his fist technique and studying scriptures and characters.

Aside from rituals, the Daoist taught Mingyu medicine, divination, fortune-slip interpretation, and talisman arts without hiding anything from Qin Sang. It was only then that Qin Sang confirmed it was all just rhetoric and deception, and he finally gave up hope.

Still, the deception contained many shrewd insights into worldly affairs, which gave him no small gain.

His leg injury was gradually healing, and he couldn't stay idle. First, he cut bamboo to make a water pipe, diverting water from the stream into the courtyard, where he built a small stone pool.

After trying several approaches, he finally succeeded.

With that, Mingyu no longer had to do the heaviest chores, and the constant flow of water from the bamboo pipes made the vegetables and herbs in the garden grow even better. Not only did Mingyu call him "Senior Brother" more and more warmly, but even Daoist Jixin's opinion of him began to change.

Next, Qin Sang made a bamboo ladder, climbed onto the roof, and replaced all the broken tiles on the rooms where the three of them slept.

Later, finding the temple's food too bland, he rigged up a few traps and actually managed to catch some wild rabbits and pheasants.

Mingyu advised Qin Sang not to kill animals inside the temple, saying that defiling the temple would earn their master's punishment. So Qin Sang built an earthen stove by the stream, outside the temple where Daoist Jixin couldn't interfere.

This world didn't have as many seasonings as his previous life, and he wasn't skilled in cooking either. The gamey, earthy smell of the wild meat was hard to remove, so he could only roast it, sprinkling on some salt. The taste was passable.

Mingyu couldn't bear to kill, but he dared to eat—and ate with relish.

Another ten-plus days passed. The leaves withered, and the weather turned cold.

The wind blowing on the mountain was colder than down below. The three of them—master and disciples—were doing evening lessons in the Green Goat Hall. The cold wind crept in through every crack, making the flames on the oil lamps flicker.

Qin Sang stretched, put down his quill, adjusted the lamp wick, and seeing that the other two still had a while before their evening lessons ended, said softly, "Daoist, I'm going back to my room to sleep."

With that, he picked up the few sheets of paper he had just written on, wrapped his robe tighter, and left the hall. His leg bones had fully healed, and he was planning a trip to Three Witches City.

Reading changes one's fate.

Over the past month, Qin Sang had worked harder than he had in his previous life during his senior year of high school.

Today, he had finally recognized and understood every character in the "Netherworld Scripture." Daoist Jixin was widely learned, with knowledge richer than Qin Sang had imagined, and he was willing to teach patiently. Qin Sang was deeply grateful to him.

Back in his room, Qin Sang first ran through the Tiger Subduing Long Fist to calm his restless mood.

He had always followed Bai Jianglan's instructions, practicing the Tiger Subduing Long Fist every morning and evening without fail. He could clearly feel his physical fitness improving, but as for the legendary True Qi—he hadn't seen even a trace of it.

After finishing the fist practice, he washed off the stench of sweat, returned to his room, and pulled out a stack of yellow paper from under the bed, covered in writing. Then, comparing it with the original book, he used the moonlight to add the final sentence.

The entire "Netherworld Scripture" was finally translated.

Holding the yellow-paper booklet, Qin Sang's hands trembled with excitement. He took a deep breath to steady himself and began reading through it from the beginning.

Over and over, he focused without distraction, immersing himself in the "Netherworld Scripture." First, he read his own translation, then the original, carefully pondering each part, then revising his version again.

Qin Sang didn't dare to rashly start cultivating. Who knew if a single mistake might lead to a deviation?

With his current shallow understanding, the "Netherworld Scripture" did appear to be a cultivation method. Once mastered, a force called 'Qi' would flow through the body along the meridians, and there were also discussions about the cycles of the heavens.

Fortunately, he had been studying medical scriptures with Daoist Jixin, gaining some understanding of meridians and acupoints, so he could barely make sense of it.