Chapter 18: Ghost Talismans

Zheng Fa struggled to pretend he hadn’t noticed Xu Jiaotou’s dark expression.

“You know nothing!” Xu Jiaotou cursed Gao Yuan: “The martial arts displayed by those outside academies may look impressive, but once practitioners pass their prime, their power fades—and those who fail to master them shorten their lives!”

Zheng Fa understood Xu Jiaotou’s meaning.

The same martial art, if mastered, could enhance one’s physical abilities.

The “Pine Crane Stance,” which added extra longevity as a bonus, was naturally precious.

And deep down, he had another thought—Gao Yuan trained for thirty years just to gain twenty years of life.

His own talent, Xu Jiaotou had said when feeling his bones, was top-tier—better than Gao Yuan’s—so maybe he didn’t need thirty years?

More importantly: he could travel to the modern world!

If he cultivated in the modern world, he’d have double the time.

That meant, using Gao Yuan’s simple lifespan arithmetic, he might not even lose out.

…

Probably angered by Gao Yuan, Xu Jiaotou taught them for a while by hand, then became a hands-off master and went off to play with his gun again.

Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan kept practicing the Pine Crane Stance posture on the spot.

Even Gao Yuan, who had earlier shown disdain, trained with intense focus.

Sometimes Zheng Fa couldn’t help comparing the people of the Xuanwei World with his modern peers—those classmates he’d met in school would likely have slacked off.

People his age in this world, like Gao Yuan, though born as servants, held official status and came from wealthy families; they weren’t ordinary folk, and thus valued opportunities more.

After standing in the posture Xu Jiaotou taught for a while, Zheng Fa felt the warm flow inside him grow stronger, making his bones tingle and his breath slowly deepen and lengthen.

Xu Jiaotou came over, saw Zheng Fa’s state, and nodded approvingly: “I told you your talent was good—you’re learning fast!”

Zheng Fa clearly saw Gao Yuan’s movements stiffen slightly, as if anxious.

Xu Jiaotou seemed to notice too, but only glanced at him, offering neither praise nor reprimand, then walked away slowly.

Watching Xu Jiaotou’s retreating figure, Gao Yuan’s face showed clear dejection.

Since this was their first encounter with the Pine Crane Stance, Xu Jiaotou didn’t let Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan train long—less than half an hour, he began shooing them out:

“Progress step by step! The greatest sin in martial training is greed for speed!”

Zheng Fa had already reached his limit; as he left the training ground, his stomach growled like thunder, so hungry he saw the green stone slabs on the ground as matcha cakes, wishing he could bite into one.

He’d always been underfed in this world, but only after starting martial training did he realize Xu Jiaotou’s claim—that martial artists must eat well—was a simple, undeniable truth.

Back in their quarters, Zheng Fa sat on his bed and felt his vision darken.

Gao Yuan saw his expression and knew instantly: “Hungry?”

“Yes. How do we eat?”

“The household rules say we’re Seventh Young Master’s people—we’re supposed to wait for his maid to bring our meals before we collect them.”

“So do you think she’ll bring ours?”

Zheng Fa fired a soul-deep question at Gao Yuan.

“That’s unlikely… she might not have brought them at all. I’ll go get food from the main kitchen!” As the son of the Second Branch’s steward, Gao Yuan showed off his connections: “The Lady gave us our rations—they won’t dare refuse me!”

Saying this, Gao Yuan jumped up and hurried out, calling over his shoulder: “Wait a bit—I’ll bring your meal too!”

Watching Gao Yuan’s retreating back, Zheng Fa smiled.

His roommate had ordinary human scheming, but honestly, he was a decent guy.

…

Gao Yuan took nearly another half hour to get the food; by the time he returned with the food box, Zheng Fa’s stomach was cramping painfully.

“Those people in the main kitchen claimed the Lady didn’t order our meals! They wanted to steal our food money!” Gao Yuan grumbled: “I had to get my father involved before they finally told the truth!”

Hearing this, Zheng Fa looked up and thanked Gao Yuan: “I owe your father a real thanks—if not for him, I wouldn’t have eaten tonight.”

“No problem! This is our rightful ration!”

Gao Yuan waved his hand.

The food in the box was indeed plentiful.

The top layer held two large bowls of meat and one large bowl of vegetables.

The middle layer was packed with rice.

The taste seemed ordinary, but the portions were generous.

Zheng Fa picked up his chopsticks and devoured the food.

As he shoved food into his mouth, his gaze idly swept over the bottom layer of the box.

It had been empty, but now he saw a sheet of paper—or rather, the corner of one—wedged between the layers.

Gao Yuan seemed to notice his stare and jerked his hand back, as if trying to hide it from Zheng Fa.

Zheng Fa realized then: this guy had been gone so long not just to get food, but to do something private.

He lowered his head and shoved another mouthful of rice into his mouth, as if nothing had happened.

Gao Yuan, by contrast, grew restless, eating absentmindedly.

…

For the next two days, Zheng Fa lived a strict routine.

Early each morning, he stood in punishment outside Seventh Young Master’s courtyard and accompanied him to Master Shen’s lessons.

Afternoon brought training in the Pine Crane Stance under Xu Jiaotou.

Zheng Fa learned faster than Gao Yuan, but Xu Jiaotou had told them both: Zheng Fa might learn quickly, but he started late; without special fortune, the Pine Crane Stance would be hard for him to master fully.

At night, after eating, each did his own thing.

Zheng Fa was busy at night.

Besides memorizing the classics from Master Shen’s lessons, he recalled knowledge from modern textbooks.

He even set aside half an hour daily to practice calligraphy.

But Gao Yuan was different:

As soon as he returned to their quarters, he locked himself in his room and secretly studied something.

Zheng Fa occasionally glimpsed him holding several sheets of paper.

They looked just like the ones hidden in the food box that day.

Whenever Gao Yuan studied them, he hid them from Zheng Fa; the moment Zheng Fa entered the room, he tucked them into his robe.

But sometimes, when Gao Yuan became absorbed, Zheng Fa accidentally caught a glimpse of what was written—or rather, drawn—on them: nothing but tangled, incomprehensible lines.

Even just a glance made Zheng Fa feel dizzy.

Gao Yuan, staring at those sheets all day, clearly grew more broken.

That night, when Zheng Fa entered the room, he saw Gao Yuan lying on his bed like a salted fish.

The precious sheets lay scattered across his quilt.

He radiated an aura of utter despair, ready to give up and die.

“What’s wrong?”

Gao Yuan’s eyes were glazed, unwilling to speak.

After a long silence, he suddenly sat up and shouted: “I’d rather quit being a servant than look at this crap anymore!”

Zheng Fa froze, his gaze shifting to the papers: “Studying this keeps you from being expelled?”

“You think the book Seventh Young Master reads every day is what?” Gao Yuan pointed at the drawings: “It’s all these ghostly talismans!”

Zheng Fa picked up one sheet and examined it—the patterns were chaotic, even without discernible structure.

“Why does Seventh Young Master study this?”

“Talismans—these are the legendary talismans of the Immortal Sects!”

Zheng Fa couldn’t help but feel profound respect; even these scribbles, like a child’s doodles, now seemed filled with mystery.