Twelve Lines of the Monster Raising Art

Chapter 4: Twelve Lines of the Monster Raising Art

"Here, this is for you too." Zi Bofeng patted the wood shavings from his hands and stood up. Seeing Qiu'er holding the pair of little boy and girl figurines as if she could not bear to put them down, he said, "This little brother is called Little Stone. He's my younger brother. I'll bring him to play with you someday. Remember—Brother Little Stone and Sister Qiu'er have to stay together!"

"Mhm, I won't let them be separated!" Qiu'er nodded, beaming with delight as she placed the two little wooden dolls together and made them kiss.

Zi Bofeng patted his backside and left, thinking, Little Stone, Big Brother can only help you this much.

Since he had not run into some young lady from the Prefect's household who had spent eighteen professional years tormenting her father, it was not bad to help Little Stone abduct himself a wife instead. Which of the two brothers did the abducting made no difference, and it would save trouble in the future. In any case, there was no such thing as too many—he would claim her first.

That night, after the Prefect finished handling official business and returned to his room, he intended to admire a rare root carving that one of his subordinates had just presented to him. Yet after searching everywhere, he could not find it. He hurriedly asked his wife, "Where did my spiritual wood root go?"

His wife was playing with Qiu'er. Hearing this, she said, "I haven't seen it."

"Uncle, look." Qiu'er held up the wooden figures in her hands for the Prefect to see. "This is Qiu'er, and this is Brother Stone."

The little girl had remembered Little Stone's name quite firmly.

The Prefect took one look, and his expression changed drastically.

"Which damned bastard carved my tree root into wooden dolls?! I'll chop him down! Chop him down!"

It was said that the Prefect raged for half the night. Everyone in the Prefecture Office feared for their lives, too alarmed to sleep.

Qiu'er remembered Little Stone's name, but she did not know Zi Bofeng's. When the blue-clad girl was urgently interrogated through the night, she lowered her head in panic and shed tears. "He was a young scholar from the Prefecture Office. I'd never seen him before..."

Thus, Slanted-Eye was dragged from his bed by the prefectural guards in the middle of the night. After being urgently interrogated all night, he nearly confessed under torture.

As for the true culprit, he had no idea what he had done. Smugly telling his father that he had arranged a marriage for Little Stone, he played with his seal and planned to get a good night's rest before following his father back to their hometown to take up his post.

The moment Zi Bofeng opened the door, a black shadow stood towering outside. With a flick of its hand, a dark gleam shot straight at Zi Bofeng's forehead!

"Looking for a beating!"

"I dodge!"

Zi Bofeng clutched his head and evaded another strike from Old Scholar's ruler, his face full of confusion and innocence. "Why are you hitting me again?!"

The blow did not hurt much, but the sound it made whenever it struck always gave him the illusion that his head was completely empty.

After packing their belongings, Zi Bofeng, his father, and Little Stone had just planned to leave in the morning when they discovered Old Scholar blocking the doorway. The moment they met, his ruler came swinging down.

"The one who ruined the Prefect's beloved possession yesterday was you, wasn't it?" Old Scholar shook his head helplessly. Though this student had once been rigid and old-fashioned, he had never been so troublesome. Yet now, he had become the student who gave him the greatest headache.

And yet, why did this feeling of loving him more the greater the headache become?

"The Prefect raged all night, but he has calmed down now. Hu Caijun, however, suffered quite a bit because of you." At this point, Old Scholar shook his head helplessly. "Could it be that you deliberately framed Hu Caijun? You should be careful. This Hu Caijun holds grudges over even the smallest slight. You have offended him again, so watch out for his revenge in the future."

Hu Caijun was Slanted-Eye's formal name. His birth name was Hu Gang, and Caijun was his courtesy name. Paired with those slanted eyes of his, the name was funny no matter how one looked at it.

Both Hu Caijun and Zi Bofeng were Old Scholar's students. In the past, Old Scholar had always treated them impartially, holding the bowl level so the water did not favor either side. Yet he admired Zi Bofeng's learning more. Zi Bofeng had conquered him with a single essay, and distinctions of closeness had formed in his heart. Thus, every word he spoke now was from Zi Bofeng's perspective.

"Absolutely not!" Zi Bofeng truly had not intended to frame Hu Caijun. Even if he had wanted to frame someone, he would not have used a little girl. He had merely seen a pretty little girl and claimed her first...

Thus, Zi Bofeng wore an utterly innocent expression.

"You..." Old Scholar raised his hand, preparing to strike him. Zi Bofeng was quick to dodge; with a flash, he slipped aside and exposed Zi Jian behind him.

"Teach... Teacher..." Zi Jian stood behind the door, giving an embarrassed grin.

These were rooms in the academy, where family members were not supposed to stay. But Zi Bofeng had been bedridden for several days, and they had stayed here only to care for him. Zi Bofeng had recovered yesterday, so by all rights they should have moved out. Yet their pockets were empty, and they had squeezed in here for another night.

Old Scholar was somewhat embarrassed as well. Beating someone else's child in front of that child's father was rather unbecoming.

"We're leaving right away..." Zi Jian lifted the shoulder pole leaning beside the door. His tools for labor—water buckets, trowels, axes, saws, planes, chisels, and the other tools of a mason and carpenter—had long been bundled together. There was another wooden bucket on the other end, but it held nothing.

"There is no need to hurry so much. There are no students in the academy right now anyway. It would be fine to rest a little longer," Old Scholar said.

Little Stone was still sprawled across Zi Bofeng's pillow, drool spilling everywhere. Zi Jian went over and patted his bottom, calling him several times without waking him. Unable to bear waking him further, he could only carry him into the wooden bucket. The bucket was not large, yet Little Stone still fit inside it curled up with room to spare. Zi Bofeng's heart ached at the sight. The little fellow was too thin. Moreover, Zi Jian had to go out and take on labor during the day these past few days, while Little Stone had been the one caring for him. He truly was exhausted.

"Dad, I'll carry Little Stone." Zi Bofeng went over and hoisted Little Stone onto his back. Little Stone's head drooped over Zi Bofeng's shoulder. He mumbled a few words in his sleep, then lowered his head again, leaving cool trails of drool down Zi Bofeng's neck.

"Wife... hehehe, I want a wife..." The little fellow's sleep-talk nearly made Zi Bofeng fling him straight away. Ever since Zi Bofeng had returned last night and told Little Stone he had found him a little wife, Little Stone had been so excited that he did not fall asleep until midnight. Zi Bofeng, who had only meant it as a joke, suddenly felt deeply guilty.

He was not from this era. He did not understand how people of this era viewed and felt about "wives" and "marriage." Sometimes, a single promise had to be remembered for a lifetime. Telling a seven- or eight-year-old child, "I'll introduce you to a wife," was absolutely no joking matter.

Life was difficult, and from a young age people needed to support one another just to survive. Life was short; if one did not hurry to marry and have children while young, who knew what might happen when one grew older? Therefore, people in this world married and had children very early.

"Don't worry. Big Brother will definitely bring Qiu'er back for you as your wife. Sleep obediently now." Zi Bofeng reached back and patted Little Stone's bottom, tied him securely to his back with a strap, then picked up his books, clothes, and bedding.

There were many books, but very few clothes, and the bedding was thin as well. Old Scholar watched the father and his two nephews, all equally poor and destitute. But with Zi Bofeng among them, their days would surely grow better and better.

"Bofeng." Old Scholar took out a money pouch from his pocket. At the sight of it, Zi Bofeng's expression changed, and he did not dare accept it outright.

"Take it. You are going to take up your post now. Although you are returning home, things are different from before. I'm giving you this money so that you can save time for other things, read more books, write more words, and not become an ignorant fool in the future and ruin my reputation. You must know that although you placed first this time, there are countless talented men beneath heaven. You must never grow proud or complacent."

Zi Bofeng felt deeply ashamed. He had even secretly criticized his teacher in his heart.

"However, I have one condition," Old Scholar said.

Zi Bofeng looked at his teacher solemnly and waited for him to speak.

Thump! Thump! Thump! To his surprise, Old Scholar raised his ruler and struck Zi Bofeng on the head three times in succession. "I was also tossed about until halfway through the night and could not sleep. I have to vent this bad breath somehow!"

Had Old Scholar not deliberately helped him, Zi Bofeng would likely have been seized last night by the utterly enraged Prefect and had his head chopped off.

"Ahh..." Zi Bofeng held his head and cried out in pain. Old Scholar merely took him for a clown and burst into laughter before turning away.

But Zi Bofeng truly hurt to the depths of his heart, to the marrow of his bones, so badly he nearly went mad. Cold sweat streamed down his face.

The last time his teacher struck him, the blow had knocked loose a different memory, instantly fusing the Zi Bofengs of two worlds together.

This time, Old Scholar had struck him three times in succession, and another memory had been knocked loose!

This memory belonged neither to the current Zi Bofeng nor to the former Zi Bofeng. It did not belong to heaven and earth, to this world, or even to all ages past and present. It had never existed before.

This memory came from the spirituality of the Pot of Heaven and Earth fragment, from this world's Zi Bofeng's common sense, and from the thought patterns of the other world's Zi Bofeng. The three became one, a trinity, and a memory was born out of thin air.

Born of heaven and raised by earth, this memory had neither root nor proof, neither basis nor support. It came into being from nothing, yet contained the ultimate principles of heaven and earth.

It was as though he had been born knowing it. It entered Zi Bofeng's mind and became a towering Cyan Stone Wall within it. Characters were written upon the stone wall. Every character was a truth, a principle, a decree of fate. Layering over one another, they gradually revealed lines of writing across the stone wall.

The art said, Monster Raising Art. It was like a song yet not a song, like an art yet not an art—five characters to a line, twelve lines in total, cycling endlessly:

Heaven and earth undergo Unity Transformation; from primordial chaos, Yin-Yang Genesis. In heaven, Becoming Heavenly Light; upon earth, Transforming Earth Veins. Heavenly Light blends the formless; Earth Veins are Like Weaving a Web. Heavenly Light gestates spiritual nature; Earth Veins moisten the body. Spiritual nature opens wisdom; the body spits spiritual energy. All day, enlighten the stubborn stone; with one stroke, Ink Trace Stage.

When heaven and earth were born, this world was divided into the spiritual energy of yin and yang. In heaven, it became Heavenly Light; upon earth, it became Earth Veins. Heavenly Light had neither form nor substance, while Earth Veins supported the world like a vast net. Heavenly Light gestated spiritual nature, while Earth Veins nurtured life. Spiritual nature could open living beings' wisdom, and life could receive spiritual energy and continuously advance. Without this, the world would never have had its present myriad colors and forms; it would merely have been a pile of countless stubborn stones. In the beginning, there must have been some divine being who used a Brush of Wisdom to illuminate the mysteries within.

Record of Raising Monsters