The Wise Adapt to the Times

After seeing Xiaoqing off and changing the part about soaking in Mother-and-Child River water back to drinking it, Ding Songyan, who had nearly broken out in a cold sweat, sat down, blew out the oil lamp, and began carefully reviewing everything in the darkness.

He mainly examined what he had wanted to say but had ultimately "forgotten" to say.

"The matter of a mysterious person being held in the Zhen Estate dungeon wasn't mentioned...

"I didn't ask about the Northern Abyss Fishback Scripture Yan Changqing mentioned...

"I also didn't ask what kind of cultivation method could forcibly enter another person's sea of consciousness, leave behind a 'seed,' and influence their thoughts... Not allowing that to be asked either—did that mean such methods were scarce and rare, and could easily pinpoint Yan Changqing's true identity? And once I learned his true identity and leaked it, many of the contingencies he had prepared would fail?

"After one use of 'qi' had been expended, the seed's influence over my thoughts had not noticeably weakened..."

Comparing it against the matters he cared about, Ding Songyan sorted through his conversation with Miss Xiaoqing and roughly concluded which things Yan Changqing did not want him to know and did not want exposed.

What the enemy feared was precisely what he needed to try doing next, what he needed to find a way around!

Ding Songyan let out a breath, put away the wooden box and tidied his brush and ink, then lay back down on the bed. Though exhausted in body and mind, his thoughts were too active for him to fall asleep for a long time.

Yang Shiduo woke from a dream, the resplendent bolt of lightning from yesterday still lingering in his mind, along with the wooden man shattered into splinters and the figure who had slowly departed with his hands clasped behind his back.

The incident had left an extraordinarily deep impression on him, so much so that he dreamed of it again that night.

He often imagined what it would be like if he obtained a divine art, cultivated it to great completion, and roamed the martial world unhindered. Yet he had never imagined it in enough detail; it had always been terribly vague. But at this moment, the scene from his fantasies suddenly became clear in his mind.

It was exactly how Second Brother Ding had appeared yesterday!

With that thought, Yang Shiduo flipped out of bed, washed his face with cold water, then began practicing body-tempering punches in the small courtyard cluttered with odds and ends, his movements roaring with the force of a tiger.

He had reached great completion in Aperture Refinement over a year ago, and his Mortal Realm had long since been complete. Yet lacking sufficient silver, he could not obtain the subsequent cultivation methods of the Iron Injury Fist from his master and could only waste his days away.

More than a year ago, Yang Shiduo had been proud and confident. When he reached great completion in Aperture Refinement, he had still been two months short of twenty-two. Though he could not compare with those favored children of heaven, he was roughly on par with Xiaoming Sect's more outstanding disciples. One had to know that he had neither family backing nor a sect. Even paying the martial hall's monthly tuition was difficult for him, and the Iron Injury Fist he practiced was utterly ordinary.

Back then, Hall Master Liu of Stone Pool Martial Hall had in fact valued his talent and diligence. He had promised that if Yang Shiduo could gather several key items himself, he would formally accept him as a disciple, help him create apertures, and teach him the method of condensation.

But gathering them took over a year. Yang Shiduo watched helplessly as several Xiaoming Sect disciples, once about equal to him, began creating apertures. By now, they had created more than three, and their strength had nearly leapt to a new level.

All he could do was maintain his body day after day, temper his strength, visualize Aperture Refinement, and practice that not particularly complicated Iron Injury Fist over and over—breaking it apart and reassembling it, then breaking apart what he had reassembled.

Thinking of how Second Brother Ding had still been an ordinary man not long ago, yet yesterday had struck out with a palm like gods and ghosts descending upon the world, Yang Shiduo would have been lying to himself if he said he felt neither envy nor jealousy.

Why couldn't the fortunate encounter have happened to me?

After finishing his morning training, Yang Shiduo wiped down his body, reheated and ate yesterday's leftovers, then headed out toward Stone Pool Martial Hall near Dangkang Temple.

His master, Liu Yuxuan, had warned them yesterday not to spread the words Second Brother Ding had spoken or the palm strike he had displayed. Otherwise, they would face the family discipline.

Upon reaching the bustling market outside Dangkang Temple, Yang Shiduo unconsciously walked toward the place where Second Brother Ding usually told stories.

The place was packed with people, surrounded by four or five layers of spectators. Those in the back could no longer see anything and could only listen with their ears.

Relying on his height and strength, Yang Shiduo squeezed only a little farther forward before Ding Songyan's figure entered his sight.

The storyteller would sometimes rise and act out all manner of movements, sometimes sit and wave his folding fan, sometimes speak in a torrent, and sometimes slam the storyteller's block. He told the episode "The Handsome Young Lord Drinks Water and Bears a Ghost Fetus; the Pretty Ruler Drives Out Evil and Stirs Springtime Longing" with breathtaking brilliance, setting imaginations aflame.

Yet Yang Shiduo froze. The storyteller, Second Brother Ding, before his eyes was utterly different from the extraordinary master Ding Songyan engraved in his mind, as though they were two entirely different people.

For a moment, he even doubted whether what he had seen yesterday was real.

Only a few breaths later, Yang Shiduo saw Second Brother Ding looking in his direction.

Their gazes met. Ding Songyan, in his field of vision, gave a faint smile laden with meaning.

Yang Shiduo shuddered and instinctively backed away, withdrawing from the crowd of spectators.

He actually did not dare meet Second Brother Ding's eyes!

The dark-skinned martial artist, eight feet tall, quickly left the area outside Dangkang Temple and circled around to the entrance of Stone Pool Martial Hall.

Only then did he seem to recover his wits.

"He has clearly already encountered great fortune and risen to the heavens in a single step. Why does he still tell stories to entertain people?

"If I were him, I'd go establish merit and build a career, becoming a marquis over a hundred li."

With thoughts surging one after another, Yang Shiduo entered the martial hall.

"Morning, Senior Brother Yang."

"Senior Brother Yang, this move of mine always feels awkward. Help me take a look later."

"Senior Brother Yang, I want to exchange moves with you."

Yang Shiduo nodded in response to each of them.

Over the past year, he had already been teaching on his master's behalf. The benefit was that his tuition was waived, allowing him to save silver to purchase the key items.

For this, he was deeply grateful to his master. After all, this was a martial hall, not a sect.

As he circled toward the training grounds and passed a side courtyard, Second Brother Ding's matter suddenly resurfaced in his mind. His heart grew restless, and violent resentment rose within him.

Why?

Why?

Near the training grounds, Yang Shiduo suppressed those emotions and felt a burst of shame over the sudden emergence of so many ugly thoughts.

It seemed Second Brother Ding's rise to the heavens in a single step had shaken me far more than I imagined... he thought.

After finishing today's storytelling, Ding Songyan bid farewell to Miss Xiaoqing and her maid, then headed toward North Water Street, intending to casually find something to eat along the way.

He had originally been quite eager to see whether, after last night's conversation, Miss Xiaoqing would bring questions from her family elders or sect seniors today. Yet nothing came.

Suppressing his disappointment, Ding Songyan turned into a street that was not particularly wide.

There were quite a few cheap foods here.

As Ding Songyan walked and searched, he suddenly noticed some commotion ahead, as though people had gotten into a conflict.

"Eh, Mother..." With a sweep of his gaze, Ding Songyan spotted Liu Yuzao at the edge of the crowd, wearing a black veiled hat and a dark horse-face skirt.

The minor chaos caused by the conflict made a passerby bump into Liu Yuzao, knocking the steamed bun in her hand to the ground.

Liu Yuzao bent down and picked up the bun. She merely wiped it off before raising it toward her mouth beneath the veil.

"Mother!" Ding Songyan hurried over.

At his call, Liu Yuzao ate even faster. Though she took small bites, she quickly stuffed the entire dirty bun into her mouth.

"If it makes you sick, the silver for a physician will cost much more than that steamed bun." Ding Songyan spoke helplessly as he approached his mother.

He had even planned to have his mother eat with him.

During this period, he had spoken most at home with his younger sister Ding Qingyan, followed by his older brother Ding Daniu. Perhaps because they were of the same generation and had not yet formed deep bonds, he found it easier and less restrained to get along with them.

Compared to his father Ding Shengyi, his mother Liu Yuzao had always been quiet and reserved. Apart from the day Ding Songyan got into trouble and when it was resolved, she had rarely displayed much emotion. Even when disciplining Ding Daniu, she merely kept a cold face while striking with ruthless force. Ding Songyan spoke with her even less.

"It's nothing." Liu Yuzao replied softly.

Ding Songyan glanced at the patrol squad hurrying over and curiously asked his mother, "Mother, where are you going?"

She had not brought the tools for combing hair, nor did she look as though she had risen early to copy scriptures.

Liu Yuzao pointed in the direction of the county office.

"To the Relief Institute."

"The Relief Institute?" Ding Songyan was somewhat baffled.

Liu Yuzao understood his circumstances and gave a simple explanation.

"The authorities take in elderly widows, widowers, and those left all alone there, as well as the sick and disabled with no one to rely on."

"You're going there to help out?" Ding Songyan roughly understood.

Liu Yuzao looked at him, a trace of sentiment showing through her cool voice.

"After you got into trouble that day, when I went to copy Buddhist scriptures, I secretly made a vow. Every ten days, I would spend one day doing good and accumulating virtue. I don't ask for you, Qingyan... mm, for the three of you to become rich and exalted. I only ask that you remain free of calamity and misfortune."

Ding Songyan opened his mouth, his feelings complicated, unsure how to respond for a moment.

After seeing Liu Yuzao off, he somewhat dejectedly ate a large bowl of braised rice, cheap yet filled with many different ingredients.

After noon, Ding Songyan slowly arrived at the Zhen Estate. Following the previous procedure, he covered his eyes with black cloth, was led twisting and turning through the grounds, and finally arrived before Yan Changqing and sat down.

In the blink of an eye, that cool sensation descended into his mind again.

Relying on that hazy green "seed," Ding Songyan divided his mind in two. One half earnestly told stories, while the other saw Yan Changqing in his sea of consciousness, wearing a Huayang headscarf and a blue scholar's robe.

Yan Changqing, his face lean and refined, looked at Ding Songyan and chuckled.

"Have you considered it carefully, young friend?"

"This junior has considered it clearly." Ding Songyan cupped his hands in salute. "I am willing to lend Senior a hand."

Yan Changqing immediately laughed.

"One who knows the times is a true hero. Young friend, you will surely achieve something great in the future."

After a pause, he added, "Then this old man will first teach you that secret method, as a show of sincerity."

Uh, do I need to acknowledge him as my master? Ding Songyan did not mind "killing his master" in the future, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. It would be best if he did not have to become his disciple.

Sensing his hesitation, Yan Changqing smiled faintly.

"There is no need to acknowledge me as your master for now. If I were to have you call this old man Master now, you would surely be unwilling in your heart. Once this old man escapes his predicament and grants you that great fortune, it will not be too late for you to become my disciple."

"Thank you, Senior." Ding Songyan cupped his hands in salute again. This time, he meant it somewhat sincerely.

Yan Changqing paced two steps with his hands behind his back, then said in a solemn voice, "The methods of this world either come from the Celestial Emperor and heavenly gods, or originate from divine monsters and strange beasts. All place emphasis on the apertures of other beings, on humanity's transformation like a silkworm.

"This is the common principle. It is not mistaken, but it is biased and has forgotten the foundation.

"The secret method this old man will teach you originates from a divine art. The very first sentence of that divine art is—

"'Humans are precious!'"