"If you like it, we can hold class here." Zi Bofeng looked around. There was a flat clearing where Uncle Blue Rock stood. As long as the weather was fine, they could set out a few tables and chairs and hold lessons here. That way, he could teach the students and help Uncle Blue Rock awaken his wisdom at the same time... Hmm, not a bad idea. He'd discuss it with Yan Lao Wu when he got back.
In the blink of an eye, the students had chased one another off, leaving only Little Stone standing beside Blue Stone. Zi Bofeng touched the spot between his brows. Through the Porcelain Shard, he saw one black dot after another streaming down the mountain, each returning to its own household. Only then did he nod in relief.
He also noticed that the black dots were much denser than they had been that morning. Clearly, the villagers trusted him more now.
Yet, in contrast, a black dot so faint it was nearly invisible was moving up the mountain from below.
Zi Bofeng looked up and saw Zhuzi coming up the mountain with a crude hunting bow slung over his shoulder and several animal traps in his hand. Zi Bofeng sighed inwardly. Zhuzi still hated him to the bone. He was a man of strong feelings, and once he made up his mind about something, it would be hard to change it. Even when Zi Bofeng had helped him find a place to live, he had credited the kindness to Zi Jian and still refused to forgive Zi Bofeng.
Zhuzi came up the mountain without so much as looking at Zi Bofeng. He reached out and patted Little Stone. "Little Stone, I've set some traps around here. Be careful when you run around, or you might step on one."
"Mm, I know." Little Stone nodded. Hunters always marked the traps they set, and they never put them on well-trodden paths. All the village children knew how to spot them.
Zhuzi patted Little Stone's neck again, shot Zi Bofeng a sidelong glance, then headed up the mountain with his bow on his back.
Little Stone rubbed his flat stomach. "Brother, I'm hungry. Let's go home and eat!"
"Let's go!" Zi Bofeng waved to Blue Stone, then walked down the mountain path.
At the foot of the mountain, he saw Yan Lao Wu standing outside Zi Bofeng's house, gazing up at the stone. "Why do I keep thinking that big rock's grown?"
Zi Bofeng looked back and secretly wiped away his sweat. He had thought it was his imagination, but Yan Lao Wu had noticed it too. So... Uncle Blue Rock really had grown bigger.
At the time, Zi Bofeng still didn't know that this was connected to his Monster Raising Art. In a strange way, the Monster Raising Art combined worldly power, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, human knowledge, and the wisdom of monsters, establishing a peculiar cycle beyond the Three Realms and Five Paths. As it turned ceaselessly, the cycle grew stronger and stronger, and would eventually forge an entirely new path of reincarnation. Unseen by all, this newly established path would ultimately shake the old Heavenly Dao, which had long since grown decrepit and rotten, changing the course of heaven and earth, the fate of the mortal world, and even the destiny of all creation.
But for now, this new path of reincarnation was still so young that even Zi Bofeng, one of its pivotal links, had no inkling of it.
Blue Stone had not only grown larger. Through the wondrous effects of the Monster Raising Art, his spiritual energy had merged with that of the whole of Lower Yan Village. Like a needle that steadied the seas or a pillar propping up the sky, he firmly anchored the village's spiritual energy, keeping it sealed within Lower Yan Village to circulate on its own instead of being siphoned away by some invisible force and turned into nourishment for others.
On the northern slope of Lower Yan Village, a little over two hundred meters from Zi Bofeng's home, stood the enormous blue stone. A little over half a mile farther north, higher up the slope, Zhuzi was setting traps along several animal trails. Beyond that, the mountain rose abruptly, and Bird-Mouse Mountain thrust into the clouds, its summit beyond sight.
Atop a cloud-wreathed peak, on a cliff that seemed like a land of immortals, stood a Taoist temple. A paifang faced the cliff, its three characters reading "Bird-Mouse Temple." This was the temple's gate. The temple was small, about the size of Lower Yan Village. Many of its buildings had fallen into disrepair, and only the area near the mountain gate showed signs of life.
An old Daoist emerged from the gate. He had a long, willow-like beard, and his hair and beard were both white. His long, arching brows hung down beside his cheeks. After wandering around and making a thorough inspection, he finally stopped and frowned as he examined the Spirit Gathering Array on the ground.
More than ten days ago, the spiritual energy drawn in by the Spirit Gathering Array had suddenly dropped. It was no longer enough for the brothers at the temple to cultivate. To gather sufficient spiritual energy, the old Daoist had been forced to increase the array's operating efficiency. Yet even so, things had not improved. Instead, many of the jade stones in the array had cracked from the strain.
He took several jade stones from his sleeve and replaced the broken ones, pondering, If this goes on, I'll have to go to Meng City in less than two months to ask for the Jade Tax again.
But that would only treat the symptoms, not the cause. The spiritual energy between heaven and earth had been growing thinner day by day since a thousand years ago, but lately, it seemed to be diminishing too quickly.
As the saying went, when something strange happened, there was bound to be a monster behind it. The old Daoist calculated with his fingers, but something seemed to be obscuring the secrets of heaven, making them impossible to discern.
After carefully inspecting the array again, he discovered that it was the spiritual energy from the south that seemed to have been intercepted by something. This had caused the amount gathered by the entire array to plummet by more than a tenth.
"Could a great monster have descended upon the world, claimed a territory, seized all the spiritual energy for itself, and become a scourge?" The old Daoist furrowed his long brows and looked south, but saw no demonic aura soaring to the heavens or clashing against the stars.
"This is certainly strange. I suppose I'll have to go down the mountain and investigate... But if I leave, the Spirit Gathering Array will probably stop running..." As he hesitated, someone came running up, shouting.
The old Daoist turned and saw his junior brother, Feijianzi, hurrying toward him in a white robe. When Feijianzi spotted him, he immediately called out, "Senior Brother, Second Senior Brother told me to call you back!"
The old Daoist smiled at his junior brother, who still looked like a boy. Feijianzi was intelligent and exceptionally gifted. If the spiritual energy between heaven and earth hadn't grown so thin, his cultivation would have surpassed the old Daoist's long ago.
"Junior Brother, you've been on the mountain for thirty years now, haven't you?" the old Daoist asked.
"Mm, I've been here for thirty-two years." Feijianzi smiled. In the mountains, there were no calendars; winter ended without anyone knowing what year it was. Time had left no trace on Feijianzi, who devoted himself to cultivation. Such Root Bone, such clarity, such insight—even the old Daoist, the head of Bird-Mouse Temple, envied him.
"Have you ever thought of going down the mountain?" the old Daoist asked with a smile, gently patting Feijianzi's back. The old Daoist's master had passed away less than a year after taking in his disciples, and the boy before him felt more like his own disciple.
"Go down the mountain?" Feijianzi was taken aback. "Why would I go down the mountain?"
Feijianzi loved this quiet, unhurried life of seeking the Dao in the mountains. He had almost completely forgotten everything from before he came up.
"I'll discuss it with your Second Senior Brother before I explain," the old Daoist said with a smile.
But cultivators lived long lives. By the time the old Daoist brought up the matter again, two months had already passed.
Two months was neither long nor short. Every morning during that time, Zi Bofeng went to hold class beside Blue Stone and raise monsters while he was at it. In the afternoon, he returned to his study to read, practice calligraphy, and experiment with the Monster Raising Art. Occasionally, he and Yan Lao Wu took care of some odds and ends.
Around the middle of one month, a messenger came from Meng City and delivered a letter to Zi Bofeng. It had been written personally by the Prefect and briefly recounted what he had seen and heard in Quzhou Prefecture. The Prefect had argued his case eloquently in Quzhou Prefecture and finally secured an exemption from Meng City's taxes, winning the envy of several other cities. He had naturally returned in high spirits. The letter also said that if Zi Bofeng was willing, the gates of Mengcheng Prefecture would always be open to him. Zi Bofeng smiled, took it in stride, and burned it over a flame.
Everyone knew that he had argued brilliantly before Mengcheng Prefecture and persuaded the Prefect to exempt Lower Yan Village from its taxes. But no one knew that he had actually achieved the result by falsifying the accounts. The fewer people who knew about it, the better.
Now, Zi Bofeng devoted most of his energy to the little ones in Lower Yan Village. Over the past few days, he had realized that apart from honest, simple farmers and idle layabouts, the village had not a single person fit for great things. There were many things he couldn't get done. His first priority now was to cultivate a batch of capable people.
The adults were already beyond shaping; the young had more potential. But they were far too young, and it would take too long for them to amount to anything. They would need at least a year of study at the academy.
His students had made rapid progress over the past two months. The older ones could recite the classics, the younger ones could write out the Thousand Character Classic, the Hundred Family Surnames, and the Three Character Classic from memory, while even the smallest could recognize many characters and stumble through books on their own. Zi Bofeng had compiled many illustrated storybooks for them to read. Little bookworms carrying a book and reading as they walked down the street could now be seen everywhere. The children had never seen such delightful, richly illustrated books before. When Little Stone went to sleep, he even had to hug one.
But with the academy exams drawing near, Zi Bofeng had spent the last few days focusing on exam-taking techniques.
Zi Bofeng decided that once he had sent these students to the academy, he would start a literacy class in Lower Yan Village and first wipe out those fellows who could barely recognize a few characters yet dared to claim that every character they wrote stood tall and straight.
For some reason, Yan Lao Wu was adamantly opposed. The two of them were still arguing about it.
As the academy exams drew closer by the day, Zi Bofeng led his students into the final sprint. Six of them would be taking the exam. The day before, the villagers saw them out of the village with drums and gongs. Even Yan Lao Wu had personally come along to lead them, bringing three or four strong men to escort them. Their hopes of seeing their children rise to greatness burned bright. Zi Bofeng was full of confidence in his students. All six had a good chance of passing; at least five would make it.
Things were going smoothly for Zi Bofeng, but the beast that had been terrorizing the village still hadn't been caught. Livestock were still occasionally found mauled to death. Yan Lao Wu had organized the able-bodied men to patrol every night, but it had done no good.
Record of Raising Monsters
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