Fire Magic Application

Shen Hui busied himself in the kitchen for over an hour, and finally, several dishes were neatly lined up on the counter.

Jinghui, without anyone noticing, had shifted from the threshold to the counter, staring at the plates and muttering nonstop.

"Is it done? Is it done?"

"It's done." Shen Hui wiped his hands. "Fourth Senior Sister, help me carry these."

Without a word, Jinghui grabbed a plate in each hand and sped off toward the Dining Hall.

Shen Hui and Fifth Senior Brother followed behind with the remaining dishes.

In the Dining Hall, Senior Brother, Second Senior Sister, and Third Senior Brother were already seated. Shen Hui set the dishes on the table, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone enter through the door.

Master.

Shen Hui froze, instinctively looking at the other's face.

That face, once scorched and mangled, still had brows in a sorry state—half there, half gone—but a thin layer of white stubble had sprouted on his chin, like a freshly cut wheat field.

Though it still looked a bit odd, it was far more pleasant than this morning.

Shen Hui only glanced once before quickly lowering his head.

The others did the same. Normally, they would have greeted him, but now they all kept their heads down, pretending to study the dishes on the table.

The Old Taoist walked leisurely to the head seat, lifted his robe, and sat down. His gaze swept over the group, then over the dishes, and finally landed on Shen Hui.

"What are you standing for? Sit."

Shen Hui quickly sat down.

The meal was eaten in dead silence.

No one spoke. Even the sound of chopsticks hitting bowls was softer than usual.

Shen Hui didn't dare look up, just stared at the rice in his bowl, chewing earnestly, bite by bite.

The Old Taoist didn't speak either, slowly picking up food and eating slowly.

He took a piece of rabbit meat, chewed, and nodded; grabbed a bite of bamboo shoots, chewed, and nodded again; sipped some egg drop soup, smacked his lips, and nodded once more.

When the meal was finished, the Old Taoist set down his chopsticks.

Everyone else followed suit.

"I hear," the Old Taoist suddenly spoke, "that yesterday you debated with Jingming, saying that this mortal world's cooking smoke is also a great medicine?"

Shen Hui's heart skipped a beat.

He looked up, meeting the Old Taoist's eyes, which held a hint of a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

He remembered how yesterday, Second Senior Sister originally wouldn't eat mushrooms, but after he talked her into it, she ended up falling for it too, and he couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

He swallowed his saliva and chose his words carefully. "Disciple was just speaking casually, it's not to be taken seriously..."

"Speaking casually?"

The Old Taoist stroked his uneven beard, his tone unreadable.

"I think what you said makes quite a bit of sense."

Shen Hui didn't dare respond.

The Old Taoist shook his head, stood up, and walked toward the door. Without looking back, he added one more sentence:

"From today onward, I'm no longer abstaining from food."

With those words, his figure disappeared beyond the door, leaving the six disciples in shock and uncertainty.

After the meal, Shen Hui suddenly remembered something and turned to Qingyi. "Third Senior Brother, I'd like to borrow a few books to read. Do you have any miscellaneous texts on geography, customs, or folklore?"

Qingyi nodded. "I have quite a few. Do you want me to pick some for you, or would you rather choose yourself?"

Shen Hui was about to answer when Second Senior Sister cut in coldly. "I have several Daoist scriptures. If you want to read, you can come to me."

Shen Hui was taken aback and quickly waved his hands. "Thank you for the offer, Second Senior Sister, but my cultivation is too shallow. Those scriptures are too profound; reading them would be a waste, and I wouldn't dare spoil them."

Jingming frowned slightly. "Then what use are those miscellaneous books? Aren't they just a waste of time, hindering your cultivation?"

Third Senior Brother's face turned awkward at that.

Shen Hui, however, smiled nonchalantly and replied casually, "Sister, you're mistaken. As the saying goes: In books, there is a Golden House; in books, there is a Jade-like Beauty."

Qingyi's eyes lit up. "Junior Brother, that's a wonderful saying!"

But Jingming's frown deepened. "Golden House? Jade-like Beauty? Don't tell me you've forgotten the sect rules? Wealth and women..."

Shen Hui explained, "Sister, you misunderstand. This Golden House means that books contain a world, broadening one's horizons; the Jade-like Beauty means that books hold subtle delights, nurturing one's temperament."

At the same time, he added in his mind: Even though I'm making all this up on the spot, monks don't lie, so a Taoist telling a few small lies should be fine.

What he really wanted was to understand the local customs and worldly affairs of this world, so he wouldn't be completely in the dark and avoid making a fool of himself like last night.

Jingming was silent for a moment, then replied flatly, "As you wish."

She turned and walked out, but at the door, she suddenly stopped and looked back.

"And this 'Golden House' and 'Jade-like Beauty' you speak of—which 'common saying' do they come from? I've never heard of them."

Shen Hui was momentarily stunned, tongue-tied and silent.

Seeing this, Jingming did not press further. With a knowing look, she turned and left, her figure vanishing into the night.

Qingyi walked over and patted him on the shoulder, smiling. "Junior Brother, come by my room later and pick some books. Those two lines—'Within books there is a Golden House, within books there is a Jade-like Beauty'—I need to write them down. I'll add them to my collection."

Shen Hui gave a wry smile. "Senior Brother, please don't mock me."

"I'm not mocking you," Qingyi said, his expression turning serious. "Don't worry, I'll note the source."

Shen Hui looked at his earnest face and found himself at a loss for words.

Fifth Senior Brother had taken on the task of washing the dishes.

Shen Hui didn't refuse. He thanked him and left the Dining Hall, heading toward the West Courtyard.

Third Senior Brother Qingyi's room was on the south side of the West Courtyard, not far from Fourth Senior Sister's. A few sparse clumps of bamboo grew by the door, but they were thin and straggly, nowhere near as neat as the ones before Second Senior Sister's place.

He knocked.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, a faint scent of sandalwood wafted over him. Shen Hui looked around and couldn't help but pause in surprise.

Third Senior Brother's room was much larger than his own. Besides a wooden bed against the wall and a desk by the window, the most striking feature was three bookshelves lined up side by side against the inner wall.

The shelves were crudely made—the edges of the planks hadn't been sanded smooth, and the mortise-and-tenon joints were a bit crooked—but they were sturdy, and every shelf was packed to the brim with books.

Qingyi sat at his desk, a sheet of paper spread before him, brush in hand, writing something.

When he saw Shen Hui arrive, he looked up, smiled, and gestured at the bookshelves. "Take your pick. If you see one you like, just take it."

Shen Hui nodded and walked over to the shelves. He reached out and touched the wood first.

The grain was fine, cool to the touch. He brought it closer and sniffed—a faint, slightly bitter, clean scent.

Probably camphorwood, good for repelling insects.

But he couldn't be sure. After all, who knew if this wood was like those mushrooms—maybe it just looked similar.

Shen Hui's gaze fell on the spines of the books, and he began scanning them one by one.

The Romantic Scholar and the Pretty Female Ghost

The Tale of the Scholarly Wild Fox

Records of Brothel Romances

His eyelids twitched. He silently looked away and moved to the next row.

The Legend of the Fox Immortal

The Tale of the Peony Lantern

Records of Ghosts and Monsters

He pulled one out at random and flipped through it. It told the story of a scholar who stayed overnight in a deserted mansion, met a beautiful woman, exchanged poems and flirted, only to discover she was a fox spirit.

The writing was decent enough, but the content... how to put it? It was the same as those "urban encounters" he'd read online in his past life—same old wine in a new bottle.

He put it back and pulled out Records of Ghosts and Monsters.

Flipping through it, it was full of tales about demons and ghosts, but the content was vague and inconsistent. Many parts didn't connect, as if they'd been jotted down after hearing only half a story. Reading it, something always felt missing.

Shen Hui shook his head, put the book back, and continued browsing.

Finally, in the corner of the third shelf, he spotted a few that looked more serious.

Gazetteer of Qingzhou Prefecture

Detailed Annotations on the Mountains and Rivers of the Nine Provinces

Biographies of Heroes of Great Shuo

Records of Strange Customs and Tales

Chronicles of Dynastic Rise and Fall

Shen Hui's eyes lit up. He pulled out these five and hugged them to his chest.

After a moment's thought, he also grabbed a copy of Resolving Doubts on Plants and Herbs from the side.

These should be useful.

"All picked out?"

Qingyi glanced up. "All serious books, huh? Not interested in anything fun?"

Shen Hui smiled back. "Next time for sure. I'll read every single book you have here sooner or later, Senior Brother."

Qingyi chuckled, said he'd be welcome anytime, then lowered his head to continue writing.

Shen Hui carried his stack of books over to the desk, craned his neck, and peeked at the paper.

On it were rows of neat small-standard script—the very two lines from before: "Within books there is a Golden House, within books there is a Jade-like Beauty."

Beside it were a few small annotations, reading: "Junior Brother Qingxuan's words, quite exquisite, worthy of inclusion in the collection."

"Senior Brother keeps a collection?" Shen Hui asked.

"I do." Qingyi looked up, his smile warm. "Poetry, lyrics, songs, odes, strange tales and curious events—anything interesting, I record. When it's full, perhaps I'll have it printed as a book, passed down to later generations."

Shen Hui watched his earnest expression, mulled it over a few times, and finally spoke:

"Senior Brother, actually, this poem has more than two lines."

Qingyi's brush paused mid-stroke. He looked up: "Oh? I'd be glad to hear the details."

Shen Hui set down the book in his hands, cleared his throat, and recited:

"To be rich, you need not buy good fields—within books, there are granaries of grain. To live in peace, you need not build high halls—within books, there is a Golden House. Going out, do not fret for lack of attendants—within books, carriages and horses crowd like clusters. Taking a wife, do not grieve for want of a matchmaker—within books, there is a Jade-like Beauty. If a man wishes to fulfill his life's ambitions, let him diligently read the Five Classics by his window."

Qingyi listened, utterly absorbed. When Shen Hui finished, he let out a long breath, his eyes blazing with astonishment.

"Marvelous! Truly marvelous!"

He couldn't help clasping his hands together. "Especially the 'granaries of grain,' the 'Golden House,' the 'Jade-like Beauty'—layer upon layer, each line more exquisite than the last! Junior Brother, did you write this?"

Shen Hui quickly shook his head, laughing. "I don't have that skill. I heard it was written by an old scholar to encourage study, but it's been so long that the name has been lost." (The original comes from Emperor Zhenzong of Song's "Exhortation to Learning.")

"Lost?" Qingyi's face filled with regret. "Such a fine poem, and even the name didn't survive?"

Shen Hui nodded, thought for a moment, then added: "And there's a story behind this poem."

"What story?"

Qingyi's interest flared at once. He set his brush down on the inkstone, pulled over a stool, and said, "Junior Brother, tell it quickly!"

Shen Hui saw his eager look, couldn't help smiling, sat down on the stool, and began telling the story he'd read in his past life.

"Once upon a time, there was a scholar named Lang Yuzhu. His father was an official who left him a house full of books. Others urged him to study for fame and rank, but he disagreed, saying, 'Within books there are granaries of grain, within books there is a Golden House, within books there is a Jade-like Beauty'—why seek outside?"

Qingyi listened attentively and nodded.

"This Lang Yuzhu spent every day only reading, neither working nor marrying. When others asked him, he said: 'Within books there is a Jade-like Beauty—sooner or later, I'll read a wife out of these books.'"

Qingyi couldn't help laughing: "What a fool."

"Indeed." Shen Hui continued. "One day, while reading, a woman suddenly stepped out from between the pages. She said her surname was Yan, given name Ruyu—Jade-like Beauty—and that she had come to fulfill his wish of 'within books there is a Jade-like Beauty.'"

Qingyi's eyes lit up: "That really happened?"

"In the story, it did."

Shen Hui smiled. "That Jade-like Beauty was fair as a celestial maiden, and there was nothing she wasn't skilled in—chess, music, painting, poetry. She taught him chess, and his skill soared; taught him the zither, and his playing became transcendent; taught him to read, and he never forgot a thing. All the neighbors envied him."

Qingyi listened, spellbound, nodding continuously.

"But what happened later?" he asked.

Shen Hui paused, his tone growing heavy:

"Later, a corrupt local official learned of this marvel. Wanting to seize the Jade-like Beauty for himself, he falsely accused Lang Yuzhu of spreading heresy and led soldiers to arrest him."

"The Jade-like Beauty had no choice but to retreat back into the book. Unable to capture her, the official burned all of Lang Yuzhu's books in a rage, confiscated his property on charges of 'spreading heresy,' and threw him in prison. Though Lang Yuzhu was eventually released, his family was ruined, and he nursed a bitter hatred for Magistrate Shi."

Qingyi's smile froze on his face.

"Later, Lang Yuzhu sought refuge with relatives, studied with fierce determination, and passed the imperial examinations to become a jinshi. When he was appointed as a circuit inspector, the first thing he did upon returning to his hometown was settle accounts with that magistrate."

"He fabricated charges, raided Magistrate Shi's home, avenged the burning of his books and the theft of his wife, and ultimately became a calculating, unscrupulous official."

Qingyi was silent for a long time before sighing: "What a pity... The ending of this story—truly a pity."

But Shen Hui shook his head:

"I think the ending is just fine."

Qingyi was taken aback: "Just fine? One dead, one driven mad—how is that fine?"

Shen Hui hugged the book, stood up, walked to the door, and turned back:

"Senior Brother, think about it—what was that Jade-like Beauty? A spirit that walked out of a book. Lang Yuzhu believed in books, so the books gave him a wife. When the wife was gone, he believed in books again, so the books gave him fame and the means to take revenge."

He paused, his tone flat:

"That Lang Yuzhu didn't become good, nor did he become evil—he was just marinated by this world until the flavor soaked in. So reading may not turn a poor man into a good man, but at least it gives him one more way to fight back when he's being bullied."

He sighed as he spoke: "After all, in this world, there may not be a woman named 'Jade-like Beauty,' but there are certainly plenty of magistrates who seize by force and cunning."

"And that—that's what 'exhortation to learning' ought to look like."

With that, he pushed open the door and stepped out, his figure vanishing into the night.

Qingyi sat at his desk, staring at the closed door, unmoving for a long time.

The lamp on the table flickered, its light dancing across his face, now bright, now dim.

Shen Hui carried the books back to his small room, set them on the table, and first sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed as usual, beginning his evening meditation.

An hour later, he opened his eyes, glanced at the interface, and confirmed that sitting any longer would yield diminishing returns. He stood up and stretched his limbs.

Walking to the table, he looked at the stack of books. His right hand formed a seal, and a burst of flame flickered into existence out of thin air.

The flame danced before him, gradually condensing until it took the shape of a fist-sized ghost head.

A Wick Sha Ghost.

It hovered in midair, its features blurred, only a rough outline visible—like a ferocious demonic head shrunk countless times over.

Shen Hui shifted his intent again, and the flames on the ghost head brightened further, illuminating the entire room.

This was a crude application of fire arts, saving quite a bit of lamp oil for lighting.

Shen Hui nodded in satisfaction and tried shaping the flame into other forms.

Fireballs, fire blades, fire swords, fire serpents... wherever his mind went, the flame followed, incredibly flexible.

But after a few tries, he realized that forming fireballs wasn't really necessary.

The most convenient way to use this flame wasn't to shape it into a big ball and hurl it, but to condense it into a single point and shoot it out swiftly.

That single spark would grow as it flew, and by the time it landed on an enemy, it would have turned into rolling, blazing flames, catching them off guard.

Of course, it could also be condensed into a line of fire and swept horizontally.

A line in the Fire Control Chapter read: "Mortal fire has form; true fire is formless. What has form is easy to avoid; what is formless is hard to defend against."

That was the principle at work.

Beyond these ordinary flame manipulation techniques, he also had a more powerful move: sending the Wick Sha Ghost out of his body to pounce and kill.

But this move had a slightly longer wind-up, requiring hand seals and incantations.

To be precise: he had to fully merge his mind and spirit with the ghost, then chant the spell formula.

With each additional line chanted, the ghost would gain another measure of power. At a thought, it could leave his body and strike.

Besides that, he could also boost the flame's power by feeding the seven emotions and six desires into the heart lamp.

The stronger the emotion, the fiercer the flame.

Shen Hui gave it a try. The ancient lamp in his chest indeed brightened a bit, and the flame in his palm surged upward, its temperature clearly rising.

He steadied his mind, and the flame returned to normal.

He fixed the ghost head above him, adjusted it to a suitable brightness, then picked up the Detailed Annotations on the Mountains and Rivers of the Nine Provinces and opened it to the first page.

The firelight glowed, casting light on the yellowed pages.

Shen Hui leaned back against the headboard, using the light from the ghost head hovering in midair, and slowly turned the pages one by one.

From Lingzhou, to Luanzhou, to Cangzhou, to Chenzhou... mountain ranges, rivers, cities, unfamiliar place names—all unfolded before his eyes, page after page.