Radiant Blade of the Wilderness

Chapter 65: Things He Wishes to Do

Staring at the hand-copied Legend of the White Snake, Ding Songyan was quiet for a long while, then sighed inwardly, That demoness actually transcribed it when she said she would.

What does a demoness of the Sage-Severing Way need with keeping her word? Isn’t deception the very core of what she cultivates?

Behaving just like a stalker. While I was telling stories outside Dangkang Temple, you were probably lurking somewhere nearby listening the whole time...

Ding Songyan flipped to the end and found that Ji Hanyi had actually revised the three songs to a certain degree, adding playable zither notation and pipa tablature.

Quite talented, I’ll give her that... Feeling helpless and wistful, Ding Songyan set down the White Snake manuscript, and dug out the Secret Classic of Mountains and Seas, which he had re-buried in the stack of books.

By the light of the oil lamp, he quickly found the passage he was after:

”Taowu, Ignorance: tiger-bodied, canine-furred, human-faced, tiger-clawed, with fangs and a tiger’s tail eighteen feet in length, ferocious and untameable. The result of consuming it? Cultivates malice and proliferates evil, commands schemes and oversees deception, never retreats in battle, corresponding with heaven and earth, and foresees events to come.”

”Corresponding with heaven and earth” is the same as ”resonates with heaven and earth?” And ”events to come” means future events? Then ”foresees events to come” really does fit well with mastery of numerological arts... The demoness made me swear an oath and spared my life. Was it because she’d seen certain scenes of the future? Ding Songyan arrived at a new conjecture about what had happened before.

What astonished him even more was the trait ”commands schemes and oversees deception.”

Piercing illusions, concealing physical abnormalities, deceiving others, deceiving oneself, deceiving heaven and earth—all of these seem to be masterful applications of those four terms. Combined with ”corresponding with heaven and earth,” it becomes ”imprint one’s own heart upon the celestial heart; inject the celestial heart into the hearts of men...”

Exactly as Brother Youyang said: using a trait in its raw form is too simple and too blunt, not refined enough. Each of my traits has enormous potential to be excavated and developed.

Once I’ve learned the fundamentals from the Brightnight Sect’s martial arts, I can try to create a series of divine techniques rooted in my own traits.

Is this what it means to forge one’s own martial path, to found one’s own school?

At the thought of this, Ding Songyan was suddenly fired with excitement, and something close to ambition stirred in him.

This is genuinely interesting!

Ding Songyan had always been the kind of person who loved to tinker and research. Even after his startup succeeded, he had been mulling over whether to return to the ivory tower of academia and do the research he truly cared about. Now, with the opportunity to forge his own martial path and leave a name through the ages, how could he possibly contain himself?

In this life, cut off from the Internet and left to fend for himself, there had to be something to do beyond eating, drinking, and amusing himself. Ideally, it was something he was actually interested in!

He calmed himself down and found the True Spirit Sect’s entry in the Classic.

”Shebi’s Corpse: beast-bodied, human-faced, with canine ears, adorned with two green snakes. The result of consuming it: summons gods and commands ghosts, takes the Way of nature as one’s teacher, assists heaven and supports earth, and the soul is inextinguishable.”

Right, the Useless Divine Art extends from the two traits ”summons gods and commands ghosts” and ”inextinguishable soul.” The more Ding Songyan learned, the more convinced he became that this Secret Classic of Mountains and Seas was worth a fortune.

After reading carefully for a while, he put the book away, picked up Ji Hanyi’s handwritten White Snake, found brush, ink, paper, and inkstone, went out of the west wing, and set them all on the square table.

He trimmed the lamp wick, and once the light had brightened considerably, he sat down, took up the brush, and began to copy out the Legend of the White Snake.

He had already promised to sell the story to the storytellers’ association so that his fellow colleagues could tell it too, and he intended to be as good as his word. But if he sold the demoness’s handwritten copy, it would almost certainly bring a death sentence down on whoever ended up with it if she ever came across it. Ding Songyan had no wish to implicate an innocent party, so he had no choice but to go to the trouble himself.

Good practice for his handwriting in any case!

The moment the brush tip touched the paper, Ding Songyan noticed it felt different from before.

It was as though he could see exactly where each stroke ought to fall, and knew precisely what spacing should be kept between each line.

Combined with a Dharma Realm Grandmaster’s control of force and fineness of touch, the characters that came out were naturally formed. It was not beautiful in any distinctive way, but every stroke was exactly as it should be. A fraction heavier and they looked bloated; a fraction lighter, skeletal; a hair to the left and they felt crowded; a hair to the right, over-slanted.

Upright and balanced. Neither leaning nor tilting. Ding Songyan finished a page, studied it carefully for a full twenty breaths, and offered himself this assessment.

He had not expected that the act of writing also contained a Way, and that his own ”Manifesting the Way and Its Virtue” had already assimilated into his spirit-intent. Beyond his deliberate exercises of it, it could be triggered passively as well.

Truly worthy of the most ancient Celestial Thearch. Ding Songyan lost count of how many times he had now praised the Chaos remains.

With this, his copying flew. He had estimated four hours for two complete Chapters; in the end he finished five full Chapters, approaching half the manuscript.

After the night watchman struck another hour, Ding Songyan left the table as it was, dropped the door bolt, and lay back on the bed.

In the process of copying the White Snake he had also been waiting. He wanted to know whether his master would come to take him to meet a Sage or Supreme Master. That would be another trial.

It was now late at night and nothing of the sort had occurred. Ding Songyan concluded it was unlikely to happen now, and slept soundly. He woke up early, the sound of the night soil cart arriving outside, calling out to collect.

He looked out at the empty courtyard and, feeling both relaxed and faintly wistful, took up the chamber pot and went out.

Once he had cleaned himself up, he gathered half a scoop of coal, got the stove going, and set the wok to heat.

Then he rummaged through the cupboard in the main room for an egg, cracked it neatly, and dropped it into a bowl.

He added a pinch of fine salt, broke the yolk with his chopsticks, and beat it together with the white.

By the time that was done, the wok was hot. Ding Songyan spooned in a small measure of lard, watched it melt quickly with a sizzle.

Then, he poured in the beaten egg and worked it briskly with a spatula, breaking it into small pieces as a rich fragrance rose up.

Ding Songyan drew a long breath, then, with unhurried contentment, added the leftover rice from yesterday’s lunch into the pan and stir-fried it together with the broken egg.

Just before taking it off the heat, he allowed himself the extravagance of scattering in a handful of spring onion, dotting the white and yellow with green.

”Looks good!” Ding Songyan smiled at his own handiwork.

He scooped out a bowl of egg fried rice, found some pickled vegetables, and settled at the other side of the square table to eat with easy enjoyment.

He was no great cook, but years of living on his own out in the world had given him no trouble with simple food.

The egg, the rice, the onion—all of them richly fragrant, the flavors as vivid as something tangible, flooding his mouth. With the pickles adding their tantalizing sharpness, Ding Songyan ate with unusual satisfaction.

”Brother Ding!” Xu Chang’an’s figure appeared in the half-open courtyard doorway.

”Have you eaten yet?” Ding Songyan asked with a smile.

”Not yet. I’ll just buy a steamed bun in a bit.” Xu Chang’an slipped into the courtyard.

”There’s still rice in the wok. Help yourself.” Ding Songyan gestured at the iron pot with his chin.

Xu Chang’an silently found a bowl, scooped himself some rice, and sat down beside Ding Songyan. Several times he opened his mouth as if to speak, but could not find the words.

Ding Songyan sent the last grain of rice into his mouth and glanced at him, smiling.

”You’ve seen the wanted notice?”

”Yeah.” Xu Chang’an’s expression was that of a man still walking in a dream. ”How could Little Sister Qingyan be Demoness Ji from the Peerless Beauties of the Jianghu...”

”For a beauty capable of toppling kingdoms and cities, did you think one would just pop out from a crack in a rock?” Ding Songyan paid no mind to the fact that he himself had failed to suspect anything; when it was time to educate Xu Chang’an, he educated.

”Indeed.” Xu Chang’an shot a sheepish glance at Ding Songyan. ”Uncle Ding—no, Qiu Chen is dead too. His body was found on the riverbank several miles from here.”

So it really is only the demoness and my nominal mother who survived... The demoness’s second nightmare corresponded to how all this would end? Ding Songyan was briefly dazed.

Xu Chang’an could not help asking, ”Brother Ding, were you abducted by them?”

”Let the past stay past. Is my egg fried rice not good?” Ding Songyan had no inclination to go searching for the acquaintances of the body’s original owner.

He had a somewhat cold nature at heart. The sociable, warm-hearted manner was something life had beaten into him over time.

”It’s good.” Xu Chang’an buried his face in the rice.

After a while, he looked up at Ding Songyan.

”So will you go to Dangkang Temple to tell stories today?”

Ding Songyan smiled and said, ”I won’t. I’ve entered the Brightnight Sect.”

Xu Chang’an froze where he sat.

”Wh—when?”

”Yesterday afternoon. Sect Master Tao of the Brightnight Sect saw that my gifts were exceptional and my mind quick, and took me on as a personal disciple.” Ding Songyan deployed an absurd boast to paper over the truth.

”You—you’ve become the Sect Master’s direct disciple?” Xu Chang’an’s eyes went wide.

He was finding that every time he saw Brother Ding, the man gave him a fresh fright.

He bore no resemblance to the one he remembered.

”Would I lie to you?” Ding Songyan asked back with a grin.

Xu Chang’an looked at him with an expression that said: yes, you absolutely would.

After a few beats of silence, Xu Chang’an said, embarrassed but brimming with hope, ”Brother Ding, when the year-end comes, could you—could you put in a word for me, to let me enter the Brightnight Sect as well? Just an outer disciple would be enough.”

”Weren’t you set on becoming a great thief? The Brightnight Sect’s techniques probably aren’t suited for that.” Ding Songyan could not picture Zheng Zhuxi—his upright and proper senior sister—taking up thieving.

”Ha.” Xu Chang’an rushed his words out. ”Ambitions are allowed to change!”

There was still some goodwill between Ding Songyan and Xu Chang’an. He thought it over and said, ”I’ll try when the time comes.”

If all else fails, I’ll take you as my guinea pig—no, as my founding senior disciple—to study the divine techniques I create. You’ll call me master, I’ll call you brother, and we’ll each answer to our own.

Xu Chang’an was about to thank him when Ding Songyan’s attention shifted to the courtyard doorway.

Within two or three breaths, Tao Wenshu appeared there, wearing her iron crown and black robes, with Zheng Zhuxi beside her in a deep crimson dress.

”Greetings, Master.” Ding Songyan rose and bowed. Xu Chang’an scrambled hastily from his seat and did his nervous best to imitate Brother Ding.

”No need for ceremony.” Tao Wenshu stepped into the courtyard and was taken aback when she saw Ding Songyan.

Ding Songyan turned to Zheng Zhuxi.

”Good morning, Senior Sister Zheng.”

Zheng Zhuxi smiled.

”When I saw you that night, I truly never imagined you would become my own junior brother.”

”All thanks to Master’s regard for me.” With her mother who was also his own master present, Ding Songyan was careful not to speak carelessly.

Tao Wenshu gave a slight nod and produced two items.

”This is the deed to a courtyard the Zhen family held on Baoping Lane, and this is a secret manual that the Zhen family recovered from Thief Leader Zhang Rui—it contains aperture-forging methods. Consider these as welcoming gifts from me.

”The rest can wait until we return to the sect.”