A barren mountain, a torrential downpour.
A burst of delighted laughter drifted from a ruined temple halfway up the mountain.
Zhang Qingyuan sat inside the ruined temple. In just ten short days, he had modified and upgraded the internal cultivation method his master had created.
Drawing on the theories in scriptures such as the Tao Te Ching, the Nanhua Jing, and the Yellow Emperor's Inner Classic, and using the old Daoist's internal cultivation method as his foundation, Zhang Qingyuan had created a more powerful method, one better suited to his own cultivation.
So cultivating quickly did not make someone a genius. Creating something did.
Zhang Qingyuan named this internal cultivation method the "Yin-Yang Limitless Art." Yin and yang gave rise to one another, internal power flowed of its own accord in an endless stream, and yin and yang existed in harmony.
The internal power cultivated through this method was purer than before-the legendary True Qi.
Old Zhang really was talented.
Having a system certainly produced twice the results with half the effort, but how could anything gained through cheats compare to the sense of accomplishment from creating something himself?
Zhang Qingyuan gathered True Qi in his palm and struck toward the battered table three zhang away.
A powerful force shot out like a cannonball, shattering the already dilapidated table with that casual palm strike.
"True Qi really is more domineering than internal power!"
Zhang Qingyuan looked at his palm. He clearly felt no change in his strength, yet the True Qi converted from his internal power was undeniably much stronger than before.
Next came sword techniques, fist techniques, and lightness skills.
Pride welled up within him.
Previously, he had not understood why his master spent all day shut in his room researching martial arts. So this was how satisfying it felt.
Taking out a medical book, Zhang Qingyuan began enriching his knowledge.
The fire crackled and spat sparks, with two steamed buns roasting over it.
Traveling the jianghu was different from living in a Daoist temple. Life in the temple was like being a student who had yet to leave campus: innocent, beautiful, and free of worries.
But once you stepped beyond the school gates, you discovered that society was not as wonderful as you had imagined.
Deception, intrigue, being driven by the pressures of life, being beaten down by society.
Even modern society in his previous life had been so hard to endure, let alone the jianghu of a martial arts world.
The present world belonged to the Great Qian Dynasty. The imperial court's factions were tangled and complex, while the forces of the jianghu were as numerous as hairs on an ox.
Flashing blades and flickering swords, spears in the open and arrows in the dark, human lives treated like weeds, and... money.
Yes, Zhang Qingyuan's greatest worry at present was nothing else: he had no money.
He had left the Daoist temple only ten days ago. In just ten days, the one tael of silver he had saved had dwindled to a mere fifteen copper coins.
Otherwise, he would not have ended up sheltering in a ruined temple on a rainy night, gnawing on dry steamed buns on the ground.
Putting down the medical book, Zhang Qingyuan picked up a bun and could not help lamenting, "Ah, money, money, why do you disappear so easily?"
Ten days earlier, he had said goodbye to his third senior brother and left the Three Purities Temple.
He had wandered aimlessly, asking about recent major events in the jianghu while researching martial arts.
Away from home, he needed lodging and meals.
In his previous life, Zhang Qingyuan had lived paycheck to paycheck, accustomed to spending freely.
Having only just entered the jianghu, he still retained his old spending habits and had never even considered saving money.
So by the eighth day, his money had already been almost entirely spent.
With only a few dozen copper coins left, he could not bear to pay for a room, keeping them for emergencies instead.
He bit into the bun. It was dry and hard to swallow, so he washed it down with cold water.
"Ah."
He sighed.
Wasn't the jianghu supposed to be different?
Doubts arose in his mind.
In his previous life, he had read martial arts novels and watched martial arts shows. Those great heroes never worked, yet they always had money to spend.
Whenever they stayed at an inn, they took the best room. Their standard meal was two jin of beef and a jar of Daughter's Red.
Where did their money come from?
Why don't I have any?!
At that thought, Zhang Qingyuan turned his sorrow and indignation into motivation, venting his anger on the bun in his hand and chewing even harder.
After finishing the bun, Zhang Qingyuan rose to take a piss.
Standing in the temple doorway, he lowered his trousers and pulled out his water gun. A forceful, slightly yellow stream mingled with the pouring rain and flowed off into the distance.
"Ah... that feels good!"
Zhang Qingyuan let out a satisfied remark and gave it two shakes.
Looking down at Little Qingyuan, he suddenly realized that he apparently was still a virgin in this world.
In his previous life, he had been a corporate slave. Since graduating from university, he had had no time for dating, and whenever he got paid, he would visit a club for a 998 package.
Ever since he had read online that the police could track people down through their transaction records, he had never gone again.
Brothels are legal in this world, right?
Right?
Brothels were legal, but he had no money in his pocket to pay for a prostitute. In another day or two, even feeding himself would be a problem.
Fuck. What a screwed-up life.
Who would have thought that even after transmigrating, he would still have to worry about money?
As he pondered this, he suddenly heard something cutting through the air.
Zhang Qingyuan grew wary, pricking up his ears to listen carefully. Who would come to this godforsaken place in such heavy rain?
The sound grew louder and louder. From the look of things, whoever it was seemed to be headed straight here.
A desolate mountain wilderness, a downpour, an ancient temple-Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio was full of scenes like this.
So, are you Hu Sanniang or Nie Xiaoqian?
Zhang Qingyuan formed the Spirit Officer Seal with his right hand. Though this was a martial arts world, the Daoist legacy consisted of more than martial arts; myths had also been passed down.
Zhang Qingyuan had never seen a ghost, but he had indeed learned methods such as forming hand seals, chanting incantations, and drawing talismans. He simply had never witnessed anything supernatural.
Ultimately, this was not a xianxia world. There were no spells, demons, or ghosts, and the demon-slaying methods handed down by Daoists and Buddhists were merely a form of culture.
The sound drew closer. Sure enough, moments later, the newcomer had reached the temple entrance.
Zhang Qingyuan sat beside the fire, his gaze fixed on the doorway.
The newcomer was a young girl. Her pale-yellow dress was already soaked through, her hair clung to her face, and her expression was cool.
Her rain-soaked clothes clung to her skin, outlining her curves and making him involuntarily suck in a breath.
Three years. He had not touched a girl or had any romance in three years. Seeing this woman now, a trace of emptiness and loneliness entered his tranquil heart.
Their eyes met, and the girl froze slightly. She, too, apparently had not expected to find someone in a ruined temple on a barren mountain, much less a handsome young Daoist with a roguish look.
The girl was only sixteen or seventeen, with a cool expression and a pale face. She carried a sword three feet long, which exuded a chilling cold. Its edge gleamed coldly, and jewels were set into its hilt. One look was enough to tell it was no ordinary weapon.
Looks like she's not Nie Xiaoqian. I got excited... ahem, worried for nothing.
The girl stood in the doorway, watching him warily as she judged whether he posed a threat.
Zhang Qingyuan looked her up and down. There was a patch of red on her skirt, and he was certain it was not her period.
This girl was injured.
She had more than one wound, and blood was slowly seeping down her thighs and soaking through her clothes.
Seeing that Zhang Qingyuan made no move, the girl cautiously entered the temple and headed straight for the fire in front of him.
She walked to the opposite side of the fire, gripping her sword tightly. If that young Daoist tried anything improper, she could fight back at any moment.
Zhang Qingyuan did not move either. He merely put the medical book into his bundle, then took out a scripture and continued reading.
The girl still seemed uneasy. Her sword remained ready to engage an enemy.
You're pointing a sword at me beside my own fire?
Zhang Qingyuan was not afraid that she posed a threat. Personally, he felt this girl was no match for him.
But having a sword in front of me the whole time, as though I'm some sort of villain... This made Zhang Qingyuan very uncomfortable.
Lowering his book a little, he raised his eyes to look at her, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. His roguish expression struck the girl as frivolous.
Zhang Qingyuan did not care what she thought. He leaned against a pile of straw in a languid pose and cocked an eyebrow, looking even more flippant.
"Hey, miss, you keep pointing that sword at me. Are you after my money or my body?
"To tell you the truth, if it's money, this humble Daoist has none.
"If it's my body, this humble Daoist won't oblige either!"