Patter and Trickery

That evening, Qin Sang joined Mingyue for evening study, learning the Daoist scriptures. Just like the Nether Scripture, Qin Sang could make little sense of them at first. Fortunately, Daoist Priest Jixin explained things with great patience. Qin Sang studied in earnest, finding a piece of charcoal so he could jot down notes on what he learned. Late that night, back in his room, Qin Sang brought out the Nether Scripture again. Comparing it against the characters he had newly learned, he worked to decipher the text. It was an uphill struggle, but he never tired of it. The next day, Daoist Priest Jixin headed down the mountain to conduct rituals, returning around midday with a sack of coarse grain loaded on his donkey. In the afternoon, Mingyue steamed a pot of vegetable wowotou and fried a pot of salted fish, helping Jixin pack his traveling bundle and medicine chest. On the morning of the ninth, Qin Sang awoke to find Daoist Priest Jixin already gone. Mingyue told him the priest had set out at the hour of the Tiger. That day, he and Mingyue carried out their duties exactly as Jixin had instructed, and everything went off without a hitch. By dawn on the tenth, the fatigue built up in Qin Sang's body had finally lifted. Early in the morning, he practiced the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist in front of the house. "Senior Brother, what kind of boxing is that?" Holding a bowl of porridge, Mingyue sat on a nearby stone. Seeing Qin Sang's movements whip up gusts of wind, he felt an itch to try it himself. "This martial art is called the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist. What, has the Daoist never taught you martial arts?" Having finished a set, Qin Sang felt thoroughly invigorated. Wiping away his sweat, he asked in return. "No," Mingyue said, shaking his head and nibbling on the tips of his chopsticks, full of curiosity. "Senior Brother, does Master know martial arts too?" "How would I know? I've only been here a few days." Qin Sang rolled his eyes, turning the thought over in his mind. He had assumed that since Daoist Priest Jixin dared to venture deep into the mountains to gather herbs without fearing wolves, leopards, or tigers, the old man might possess martial skills to protect himself. That was precisely why Qin Sang had practiced in front of Mingyue, hoping to draw him into conversation. If the priest knew martial arts, there was no reason to withhold them from his disciple. Over the past couple of days, Qin Sang had seen that Jixin doted on Mingyue, treating him like his own son. Could he really just be an ordinary Daoist priest? "Do you usually only study scriptures and medicine with the Daoist? Have you never learned magic?" "Magic?" A blank look came over Mingyue's face. "Most of the time we just chant scriptures and learn to read. I've studied divination texts too, and I can interpret fortune sticks and draw talismans, but I'm not good at it yet. Master doesn't dare let me do it in front of people. I know the procedure for rituals and can lend Master a hand. Master also teaches me to identify herbs and diagnose illnesses to write prescriptions, but he says I'll need twenty more years of study before I can practice on my own, or else I'd be endangering people's lives." Qin Sang's eyes lit up. "Aren't talismans magic? That day, I heard that couple saying their household was plagued by unrest, and the Daoist gave them a talisman, saying it would usher in good fortune, ward off misfortune, and drive away evil spirits. Isn't that magic?" Mingyue chuckled, glancing left and right before lowering his voice. "Senior Brother, I'll tell you, but don't go spreading it around outside. Master told me—all of that is just deception." Deception? Your world has actual gods and immortals above! Qin Sang said in exasperation, "If it isn't accurate, aren't you afraid people will come knocking on your door to complain?" "When it comes to matters of mystery upon mystery, who can really say what's accurate and what isn't?" Mingyue wagged his head. "Even if people come knocking, there's always smooth patter to fend them off. You'll understand sooner or later, Senior Brother." Deeply disillusioned, Qin Sang spent the rest of the day in low spirits. Mingyue pestered him to teach him the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist, so Qin Sang could only promise to instruct him once his leg had fully healed. In the blink of an eye, Qin Sang had stayed at the Daoist temple for over twenty days, and the three of them grew truly familiar with one another. Throughout this time, Qin Sang practiced his boxing, chanted scriptures, and learned characters with unrelenting diligence. Apart from conducting rituals, the Daoist did not hide things from him when teaching Mingyue medicine, divination, stick-reading, or talisman-drawing. Only then did Qin Sang confirm that it truly was nothing more than patter and trickery, and he gave up hope completely. Even so, those tricks held a deep understanding of human nature and worldly affairs, which proved quite enlightening to him. The injury on his leg improved day by day until he no longer needed a crutch to walk. Unable to sit idle, he first felled several stalks of bamboo to use as pipes, channeling water from the stream into the courtyard, where he built a small stone basin. After testing a few designs, he finally succeeded. With that, the heaviest chore on Mingyue's shoulders was eliminated. Moreover, with the steady flow of water through the bamboo conduits, the vegetables and medicinal herbs in the garden flourished even better. Mingyue called him 'Senior Brother' with ever-greater affection, and Daoist Priest Jixin's opinion of him visibly improved as well. Next, Qin Sang crafted a bamboo ladder, climbed onto the roof, and replaced all the broken tiles on the rooms where the three of them lived. Later, finding the food at the temple far too bland, he pondered a bit and set up several traps, which actually caught him a few wild rabbits and pheasants. Mingyue urged him not to take life inside the temple, warning that Master would punish them. Qin Sang therefore built a crude earthen stove beside the stream outside the temple grounds, where Daoist Priest Jixin had no say over the matter. This world lacked the abundant seasonings of his former life, and he was no skilled cook. The grassy, earthy tang of wild game was hard to remove, so he could only roast the meat and sprinkle on some salt, which made it palatable enough. Mingyue did not have the heart to kill the animals and dared not do so, but he had no qualms about eating them, devouring the meat with relish. Another dozen or so days slipped by. Leaves withered and fell, and the weather turned cold. The mountain wind blew chillier than below. The three of them gathered in Qingyang Hall for evening study. The piercing draft crept in from every crack, causing the flame of the oil lamp to flicker. Qin Sang stretched, laid down his quill, and adjusted the lamp wick. Seeing that the master and disciple would still need some time to finish their prayers, he murmured softly, "Daoist, I'm heading back to my room to sleep." With that, he gathered the sheets of paper he had just written on, wrapped his robe tightly around himself, and left the hall. The bone in his leg had completely healed, and he was already planning a trip to Sanwu City. Reading truly could change one's fate. Over the past month, Qin Sang had applied himself even harder than he had during his senior year of high school in his previous life. Today, he had finally identified and understood every single character in the Nether Scripture. Daoist Priest Jixin was widely read and knowledgeable, possessing an even richer reservoir of learning than Qin Sang had imagined, and his willingness to teach patiently filled Qin Sang with immense gratitude. Returning to his quarters, Qin Sang first ran through a set of the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist to calm his restless heart. He had consistently followed Bai Jianglan's instructions, practicing the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist every morning and evening without fail. He could clearly feel his physical constitution growing stronger, yet he had seen not the slightest trace of the legendary true qi. Finishing the routine, he washed away the foul sweat, returned to his room, and pulled a stack of yellow paper dense with writing from beneath the bed. Checking against the book, he used the moonlight to fill in the final sentence. The entire Nether Scripture was finally translated. Holding the sheaf of yellow paper, Qin Sang felt his hands tremble with excitement. Taking a deep breath to settle his mind, he began reading from the very beginning. Time and again, wholly absorbed, he immersed himself in the Nether Scripture. First he read his translated version, then the original text, pondering each detail before returning to refine his translation. Qin Sang did not dare rush into cultivating it. The devil only knew whether the slightest error might cause him to suffer qi deviation. From what his limited understanding could discern, the Nether Scripture was indeed a cultivation method that guided one to practice. Once mastered, a stream of 'qi' would flow through the meridians within the body, and the text also spoke of circulating qi through heavenly cycles. Fortunately, having studied medical texts alongside Daoist Priest Jixin, he had picked up some knowledge of meridians and acupuncture points, which allowed him to barely make sense of it all.