A Wise Man Knows Which Way the Wind Blows

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

He mainly examined which things he had wanted to say but had ultimately "forgotten" to mention.

"I didn't mention the mysterious person imprisoned in the Zhen Estate's dungeon...

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

"I didn't ask what cultivation arts could forcibly send one's spirit into another person's Sea of Consciousness and leave a 'Seed' to influence their thoughts... Since he wouldn't let me ask that either, does it mean such arts are few and far between, making it easy to pinpoint Yan Changqing's true identity? And once I learn his true identity and leak it, would many of his prepared contingencies become useless?

"After using up one charge of 'Qi,' the 'Seed's' influence on my thoughts didn't noticeably weaken..."

Comparing their conversation against the matters that concerned him, Ding Songyan went through his exchange with Miss Xiaoqing and roughly determined what Yan Changqing did not want him to know or reveal.

Whatever the enemy feared was precisely what he needed to attempt next, what he needed to find a way around!

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

Yang Shiduo woke from a dream, the dazzling flash of lightning from yesterday still lingering in his mind, along with the wooden dummy shattered into tiny splinters and the figure walking slowly away with his hands behind his back.

The incident had left such a deep impression on him that he had dreamed of it again that night.

He often imagined what he would be like if he obtained a Divine Art, mastered it, and roamed the martial world unhindered. But those imaginings had never been detailed, only vague. Now, at this very moment, the scene in his fantasies suddenly became clear.

It was exactly how Second Brother Ding had looked yesterday!

At that thought, Yang Shiduo rolled out of bed, washed his face with cold water, then began practicing his Body Tempering punches in the cluttered little courtyard, each strike stirring up a fierce gust.

He had reached full mastery of aperture refinement more than a year ago and had long since perfected the Mortal Realm. But without enough money, he could not obtain the subsequent cultivation methods of the Iron Injury Fist from his master, and could only let his days slip away.

Over a year ago, Yang Shiduo had been proud and confident. He had mastered aperture refinement two months before his twenty-second birthday. Though he could not compare with those favored sons of heaven, he was on par with the more outstanding disciples of the Xiaoming Sect. After all, he had neither a powerful family nor a sect, could barely afford the Martial Arts School's monthly tuition, and practiced only the utterly ordinary Iron Injury Fist.

At the time, Master Liu of the Stone Pool Martial Hall had indeed valued his talent and diligence. He had promised that if Yang Shiduo could gather several crucial items himself, he would formally take him as a disciple, help him with opening orifices, and teach him the method of condensation and refinement.

That gathering had taken more than a year. Yang Shiduo had watched helplessly as several Xiaoming Sect disciples who had originally been about his equal began opening orifices. By now, they had opened more than three each, and their strength had all but soared.

He could only maintain his physique day after day, temper his strength, and practice visualization for aperture refinement, rehearsing the relatively simple Iron Injury Fist over and over, taking it apart and reassembling it, then taking it apart again.

Thinking of how Second Brother Ding had been an ordinary person just a short while ago, yet had unleashed a palm strike yesterday like a god or demon descending into the world, Yang Shiduo could hardly pretend to himself that he felt neither envy nor jealousy.

Why couldn't I have been the one to encounter such good fortune?

After finishing his morning exercises, Yang Shiduo wiped himself down, heated and ate yesterday's leftovers, then headed out toward the Stone Pool Martial Hall near Dangkang Temple.

Yesterday, his master, Liu Yuxuan, had warned them not to spread word of what Second Brother Ding had said or the palm strike he had demonstrated, or they would face disciplinary punishment.

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

People crowded around it four or five rows deep. Those at the back could no longer see anything and had to rely entirely on their ears.

Thanks to his height and strength, Yang Shiduo only had to squeeze a little farther forward before Ding Songyan's figure came into view.

The storyteller sometimes stood up and acted things out, sometimes sat down and waved his folding fan, sometimes let words pour forth like a rushing river, and sometimes slapped his storyteller's block down. He told the episode "A Handsome Youth Drinks Water and Conceives a Ghostly Child; a Lovely Queen Drives Out Evil and Feels Love Stir" with dazzling flair, setting the imagination aflame.

Yet Yang Shiduo froze. The storyteller Second Brother Ding before him was utterly different from the extraordinary master Ding Songyan lodged in his memory, as though they were two separate people.

For a moment, he even began to doubt whether what he had seen yesterday was real.

Only a few breaths later, Yang Shiduo saw Second Brother Ding look his way.

Their gazes met, and the Ding Songyan before him gave a faint, meaningful smile.

Yang Shiduo shuddered and instinctively backed away, retreating from the crowd.

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

The dark-skinned martial artist, eight chi tall, hurried away from outside Dangkang Temple and circled around to the entrance of the Stone Pool Martial Hall.

Only then did he seem to recover his composure:

"He's clearly encountered extraordinary fortune and ascended to heaven in a single step. Why is he still telling stories to entertain people?

"If I were him, I'd go earn glory and merit, win a marquis's title and a hundred li of land."

With thoughts surging through his mind, Yang Shiduo entered the Martial Arts School.

"Morning, Senior Brother Yang."

"Senior Brother Yang, this move always feels awkward when I use it. Could you take a look later?"

"Senior Brother Yang, I'd like to test some moves against you."

Yang Shiduo nodded and answered each of them.

For the past year, he had been teaching on his master's behalf. The benefit was that his tuition had been waived, allowing him to save money to purchase those crucial items.

He was deeply grateful to his master for this. After all, this was a Martial Arts School, not a sect.

As he circled toward the training grounds and passed a side courtyard, he thought of Second Brother Ding again. Suddenly, agitation unsettled his heart, and a vicious anger welled up.

What right did he have?

Why him?

As he approached the training grounds, Yang Shiduo calmed those emotions and felt ashamed of having suddenly harbored so many ugly thoughts.

It seems Second Brother Ding's ascent to heaven in a single step shook me more than I imagined... he thought.

After finishing that day's storytelling, Ding Songyan waved goodbye to Miss Xiaoqing and her maid and headed toward North Water Street, intending to find something along the way for a meal.

After their conversation last night, he had rather hoped Miss Xiaoqing would bring inquiries from her family elders or senior members of her sect today. Yet there had been nothing.

Suppressing his disappointment, Ding Songyan turned into a fairly narrow street.

There were plenty of cheap things to eat here.

As Ding Songyan walked and looked around, he suddenly noticed a commotion ahead, as though someone had gotten into a dispute.

"Oh, Mother..." Sweeping his gaze over the area, Ding Songyan spotted Liu Yuzao at the edge of the crowd, wearing a black Veil Hat and a dark horse-face skirt.

In the minor confusion caused by the dispute, a passerby bumped into Liu Yuzao, knocking the steamed bun from her hand and sending it rolling onto the ground.

Liu Yuzao bent down to pick up the bun, merely wiped it off, then continued bringing it toward her mouth beneath the Veil Hat.

"Mother!" Ding Songyan hurried over.

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

"If that upsets your stomach, a physician will cost far more than that bun," Ding Songyan said helplessly as he reached his mother.

He had intended to invite Mother to eat with him.

During this period, the person he spoke with most at home was his younger sister, Ding Qingyan, followed by his elder brother, Ding Daniu. Perhaps because they were of the same generation, he found it easier and less constraining to get along with them, despite not yet having particularly deep feelings for them.

Compared with his father, Ding Shengyi, his mother, Liu Yuzao, had always been quiet and reserved. Apart from the day Ding Songyan's trouble began and the day it was resolved, she had scarcely shown her emotions. Even when disciplining Ding Daniu, she merely wore a cold expression and dealt heavy blows. Ding Songyan spoke with her even less.

"It's all right," Liu Yuzao replied softly.

Ding Songyan glanced at the approaching Patrol Squad and asked his mother curiously:

"Mother, where are you going?"

She had not brought her hair-combing tools, nor was this her usual early-morning scripture-copying outing.

Liu Yuzao pointed toward the County Yamen:

"To the Relief Institute."

"The Relief Institute?" Ding Songyan looked somewhat puzzled.

Understanding his situation, Liu Yuzao briefly explained:

"The authorities take in elderly widowers, widows, and those without children or family there, as well as sick and disabled people with no one to rely on."

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

Liu Yuzao looked at him, a trace of emotion showing through her cool, clear voice:

"After your trouble that day, when I went to copy Buddhist scriptures, I silently made a vow to spend one day out of every ten doing good deeds and accumulating virtue. I don't ask for you and Qingyan-well, for all three of you-to become rich and honored. I only ask that you be spared disaster and misfortune."

Ding Songyan opened his mouth, his feelings complicated, and for a moment did not know how to respond.

After seeing Liu Yuzao off, he rather glumly ate a serving of braised rice that came in a generous bowl, cost very little, and contained a variety of ingredients.

After noon, Ding Songyan arrived leisurely at the Zhen Estate. Following the previous procedure, he put on the Black Cloth blindfold and was led through turn after turn before finally reaching Yan Changqing and sitting down.

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

With the aid of that hazily clear "Seed," Ding Songyan divided his mind in two. One half earnestly told stories, while the other met Yan Changqing, dressed in a Huayang Headscarf and a Blue Lan Shirt, within his Sea of Consciousness.

The gaunt-faced Yan Changqing looked at Ding Songyan and chuckled.

"Have you made up your mind, young friend?"

"I have considered it carefully." Ding Songyan cupped his hands in salute. "I am willing to lend you a hand, Senior."

Yan Changqing immediately laughed.

"A wise man knows which way the wind blows. Young friend, you are sure to accomplish great things someday."

He paused, then added:

"Then I shall first teach you that Secret Art as a show of sincerity."

Uh, does this require formally becoming his disciple? 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 could avoid the ceremony.

Noticing his hesitation, Yan Changqing smiled faintly.

"There is no need to become my disciple for now. If I made you call me Master at present, you would surely be unwilling at heart. Once I have escaped and bestowed that great fortune upon you, there will still be time for you to become my disciple."

"Thank you, Senior." Ding Songyan cupped his hands in salute again, this time with a little genuine sincerity.

Yan Changqing paced two steps with his hands behind his back, then said gravely:

"The methods of this world either come from the Celestial Emperor and Heavenly Gods or originate with Mythical Beasts. All place emphasis on the orifices of other beings, on humanity's transformation like a silkworm.

"This is the accepted principle, and there is nothing erroneous about it. Yet it is one-sided and forgets the root.

"The Secret Art I shall teach you comes from a Divine Art, and the very first line of that Divine Art is-

"'Humanity Is Supreme'!"