The Young Daoist Swung Her Mighty Spiked Club

Outside the Path-Seeking Courtyard.

A slender figure poked her head inside.

Her features were dainty, her lashes long, her bearing lively.

A graceful figure showed faintly beneath her blue Daoist robes.

This young woman was none other than Changningzi.

Xuan Su's own daughter.

One of the Truth-Seeking Abbey's major chicken keepers.

Most importantly, over the past little while, Xuanming and Chang'anzi had eaten three of her Spirit Chickens between them.

Now that their creditor had suddenly come calling, both felt guilty. Neither Daoist, however, was an ordinary man.

One was quick-witted, terrified beneath the surface but all welcoming smiles on the outside, looking more amiable than ever and giving nothing away.

The other had grown shrewd with age and mastered the art of composure. With his Daoist robes, white hair, and otherworldly bearing, he looked every inch a lofty, upright cultivator, pure and untouched by worldly dust.

"This disciple pays her respects to Senior Uncle."

"The gate was open, so I came inside."

"Please forgive any discourtesy, Senior Uncle."

With a gentle wave of his Fly-Whisk, Xuanming sent out a strand of Magic Power to lift the young Daoist nun from her bow, then said warmly:

"No need for such ceremony, Martial Niece Changning. Few people visit this old Daoist's courtyard. What brings you here today?"

Accept a man's gifts, and your hands are tied; eat his food, and your tongue grows short.

His manner was exceedingly kind.

Of course, he was genuinely curious as well.

Every Daoist in the abbey knew he preferred peace and quiet.

Junior disciples dared not disturb him lightly, and his peers never called without reason.

Mysterious Maiden Peak lay quite far from Dao-Treasuring Peak, and on the surface, he had no dealings with this girl. Had Changning come for some other reason, or had she really found a few telltale threads, uncovered the truth behind her missing spirit fowl, and come to demand an accounting?

But that couldn't be right!

Chang'anzi had stolen the chickens, and he had eaten them too.

She ought to be standing outside his courtyard gate.

What did any of that have to do with an innocent, good-hearted old Daoist who had been forced to eat chicken?

He hadn't stolen any chickens!!!

Thoughts churned through Xuanming's mind, but his expression remained calm and composed.

"Senior Uncle, I recently studied a wondrous method and gained some understanding, but many questions came pouring in as well."

"Mother praised your profound mastery of this method, saying her own understanding fell short of even a ten-thousandth of yours. That was why this disciple took the liberty of coming to seek your guidance."

Stroking his long beard, Xuanming nodded slightly in relief, then asked with some puzzlement, "The toil of youth shapes a lifetime; never let idleness steal even an inch of time. Your eagerness to learn greatly comforts this humble Daoist."

"But does Junior Sister Xuan Su know about this?"

The wondrous method Changning mentioned should be the Yin-Yang Foundation Establishment Manual.

Before he revealed the New Eight Trigrams Sword Art, this had been the only method in which his mastery stood unrivaled throughout the Truth-Seeking Abbey.

Guiding Changning would be no trouble.

Teachers and elders were already responsible for passing on the Dao, imparting knowledge, and resolving doubts.

He could not bear the title of senior uncle for nothing.

Still, shouldn't Junior Sister Xuan Su have informed him beforehand and given him a little warning?

Intelligent and perceptive, Changningzi caught his unspoken meaning and apologized. "Please don't take offense, Senior Uncle. Mother didn't mean to neglect the courtesy. Her old injury suddenly flared up, and she had no choice but to enter seclusion to heal."

"I came without telling Mother. If I can unravel this wondrous method and raise my cultivation another level, perhaps I can help cure her old injury and spare her its suffering."

Understanding dawned on Xuanming.

Fifteen years ago, while Junior Sister Xuan Su was pregnant with Changning, she had encountered a demonic calamity. Although she escaped with her life, she suffered grave injuries.

Not only had Changning been born with a weak constitution, requiring careful nurturing and still unable to enter the second realm even now, but Junior Sister Xuan Su had also been left with a lingering ailment. Her old injury flared up every year, forcing her into seclusion for a time.

After so many years, all the Daoists had grown accustomed to it.

It was not that they were unwilling to help. None of them understood medicine and healing as well as Junior Sister Xuan Su. If even she could find no solution, they were all the more helpless, willing in heart but lacking the means.

A well-behaved, thoughtful child was always endearing.

Xuanming did not dampen the girl's enthusiasm or throw cold water on her hopes by saying she couldn't do it. He agreed to teach her.

"Of all virtues, filial devotion comes first."

"It is a good thing that you have such intentions."

"Come to the Scripture Pavilion once every three days. This old Daoist will answer your questions and resolve your doubts."

Chang Ning was overjoyed.

Her voice rang bright and cheerful, like an oriole emerging from a valley.

Her whole being brimmed with youthful vitality.

"Thank you, Senior Uncle."

Beaming, Xuanming stroked his beard and nodded.

Once she left, his face changed at once. He bristled his beard and glared at Chang'anzi. "Don't go to Pure Maiden Peak again. How can you bear to bully such a good child?"

"If this old Daoist finds that you refuse to mend your ways, I'll make you copy eight hundred scripture scrolls by hand."

"And practice that sword art from earlier diligently. If you dare slack off, this humble Daoist won't spare you."

"Get going already! What are you still doing here?"

Watching his junior uncle change faces faster than turning a page and start shooing him away, Chang'anzi let out a marmot-like scream inside. His expression turned aggrieved, and the little flicker of gratitude he had felt vanished without a trace.

You make it sound as though you didn't eat any!

You ate more than I did, and far more ravenously!

But seniority loomed like a mountain, and his junior uncle's arguments were harder still.

Chang'anzi dared not argue.

He grumbled inwardly while remaining obedient on the surface.

After bowing, he hurried away.

Watching Chang'anzi's retreating back, Xuanming chuckled and muttered, "You little brat. Don't think I don't know you're secretly cursing this humble Daoist in your heart."

Seeing Changning stop Chang'anzi,

he immediately swept his sleeve. Wind rose from the ground, and the Path-Seeking Courtyard's gate slammed shut.

Chang'anzi, who had just turned to seek help: ...

What a wonderful junior uncle you are!

Slowly turning back, Chang'anzi forced a grin and asked stiffly, "Why have you stopped this humble Daoist, Junior Sister?"

With a soft huff, the six-foot-tall Changning casually drew a nine-foot spiked club from the Wish-Fulfilling Pouch at her waist. Her eyes curved as she smiled sweetly. "Senior Brother Chang'an, why did Senior Uncle say he would hand you over to me?"

He had better not think she had forgotten about that.

Her sense of smell had been keen since childhood, and Changning caught a trace of a familiar scent on Chang'anzi.

That scent appeared every time a chicken went missing.

The chicken thief's identity was now clear.

Thinking of the spirit fowl she had painstakingly raised being eaten by the scoundrel before her, Changning's delicate, fair little face took on a fierce expression. Her small canine teeth gleamed in the sunlight.

Chang'anzi's scalp instantly prickled.

The Scripture Pavilion, the Path-Seeking Courtyard.

Pretending not to hear Chang'anzi's screams, Xuanming turned and went back inside. He sat at his desk, picked up a scripture, and quietly leafed through it. Soon, nothing beyond his heart existed, and he was immersed in its pages.

The pleas for mercy and cries faded away, as though a single wall separated two worlds.

Outside the wall was clamor, a young man and woman chasing and fighting.

Inside the wall was tranquility, a Daoist reading scripture and contemplating the Dao.

Movement and stillness, old and young—all held the Dao, all held reason, and all carried a hint of peaceful days.

The sun set and the moon rose; day gave way to night.

Early the next morning, after gathering the Dawn Purple Qi, Xuanming once more ascended to the Scripture Pavilion's second floor.

He brewed tea, lit incense, and bent over his desk to savor the scrolls.

He resumed his former way of life.

The fragrance of tea filled his nose, and the fragrance of books seeped into his heart. At peace within and without, his Daoist heart serene, Xuanming read the scriptures and contemplated the Dao, gradually entering a state of deep absorption.

That evening, a clamor reached him.

Though his thoughts were interrupted, Xuanming was not annoyed, for it was Chang'anzi directing the Daoists as they moved the Daoist Scripture.

These were among the Imperial Court's rewards.

Chang'anzi had checked them that morning. Of the five hundred scripture scrolls, more than two hundred were duplicates, but there were also more than two hundred that the Truth-Seeking Abbey's Scripture Pavilion lacked—a roughly even split.

A Daoist Canon was one of the foundations of any Daoist lineage.

Thus, Chang'anzi and all the other Daoists were beaming.

Xuanming was delighted because he could read more of the Daoist Scripture.

The others were delighted because their sect was flourishing.

Once the Daoist Scripture had all been moved, Chang'anzi limped over to Xuanming, baring his teeth in a grimace.

Half was genuine pain, and half was an act.

Seeing his junior uncle buried in a scripture and ignoring him, he realized the old man wasn't buying it and dropped the act.

Leaning toward the desk, he said mysteriously:

"Junior Uncle, do you know what that Imperial Court envoy promised our Truth-Seeking Abbey before leaving yesterday?"

Casting a mild glance at his nominal martial nephew, who remembered food but forgot beatings, Xuanming extended a finger and gently poked through the three-inch-thick desktop. Then he swept his palm lightly over it, restoring it in an instant, and resumed reading.

Gulp!

Swallowing with difficulty, Chang'anzi immediately stopped keeping him in suspense and said honestly:

Back at full health—three updates tomorrow!!!