Chapter 40

Zheng Fa opened the Seventh Young Master’s copy of “Complete Compendium of Talisman Diagrams, Volume One,” turning it sideways and upside down until, at last, he saw four tightly packed characters hidden in the margins:

“Save the children…”

He turned to look at the room filled with bookshelves, a flicker of panic rising in his chest—no matter how good his memory, even two heads wouldn’t be enough to memorize all these books.

Brute force must die!

“Then how can one prove they’ve mastered the one hundred and eight basic elemental symbols?” Zheng Fa asked the question he’d long wanted to pose.

He remembered becoming a Talisman Master required solving one hundred and eight elemental symbols; if that was all the exam tested, it didn’t seem so overwhelming.

The Seventh Young Master sat down and began explaining to Zheng Fa: “I just said the number of talisman diagrams keeps growing, right?”

Zheng Fa nodded.

“But the number of elemental symbols is finite—no, wait,” the Seventh Young Master frowned, “even Immortal Sect cultivators aren’t certain how many elemental symbols exist, but they’re certain there are far fewer than talisman diagrams—far fewer. Some cultivators even claim a single elemental symbol can correspond to countless talisman diagrams, and the basic elemental symbols are the simplest and most common ones.”

Zheng Fa faintly understood what the Seventh Young Master meant.

“For example, you extracted two basic elemental symbols from those few diagrams. The Talisman Master examination works the same way. But because new talisman diagrams appear so frequently, you simply can’t find them in these books—you must rely on your own understanding of basic elemental symbols to analyze them on the spot. And not all basic elemental symbols are as simple as the two you decoded.”

“So memorizing all these books is impossible,” Zheng Fa said, disappointed.

“Memorize? All these books?” The Seventh Young Master stared, eyes wide: “Are you joking?”

Zheng Fa’s expression was utterly innocent, causing the Seventh Young Master’s mouth to slowly open:

“You… are serious?”

Zheng Fa wasn’t joking at all.

Memorizing them would torment his memory.

Not memorizing them meant the only possible alternative was to keep learning topology from Old White—tormenting his intellect and pride instead.

But memorizing was useless now, so he had to try topology—even though he wasn’t sure topology would work for decoding every elemental symbol, at least it was a promising approach.

Thinking of Old White, Zheng Fa gave a slight shake of his head.

That old man—he’d been fooled by Zheng Fa for hours last time, then Tang Lingwumin said “zoo”… and now the old man seemed to have lost his passion for martial arts again.

This won’t do. A student losing motivation hinders my own progress as a teacher.

…

Early in the morning, the Seventh Young Master yawned as he watched Zheng Fa standing in the training yard with Gao Yuan.

The sky had barely lightened; dew clung to Zheng Fa’s hair and pant cuffs—he’d clearly been standing there for a long time.

“When did he start training?”

The Seventh Young Master asked Gao Yuan beside him.

Gao Yuan shook his head: “When I came to train this morning, he was already here.”

Lately, Gao Yuan felt he was nearing mastery of the Crane Stance, training harder than ever—often coming before morning lessons. But today, Zheng Fa looked exactly like this.

The Seventh Young Master stared at Zheng Fa’s face for a long while, frowning slightly, as if troubled.

Looking at Gao Yuan beside him, the Seventh Young Master patted his shoulder:

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“I… I guess so?” Gao Yuan replied hesitantly, a bad premonition stirring in his chest.

“Zheng Fa has better talent than you and works harder—he rises before dawn to train. Yet you slept soundly?”

“…”

Here it comes!

Gao Yuan’s face wore the calm resignation of someone long accustomed to this.

“Train!”

“Oh!”

Gao Yuan stood beside Zheng Fa, expression serene, utterly unfazed.

He assumed the Crane Stance and silently recited the nine-character mantra he had recently realized: “Don’t fight, treat it as flatulence, I’m a waste.”

As they trained, the Seventh Young Master didn’t leave—he simply watched them both, lost in thought.

“Uncle! I was sleeping soundly!”

A wail came from outside the training yard.

Then came Instructor Xu’s voice: “Sleep! What’s there to sleep for? Zheng Fa has better talent and works harder than you—how can you sleep so soundly?”

The familiar words made Gao Yuan open his eyes and glance toward the yard’s entrance.

Instructor Xu kicked a drowsy young man into the yard.

From Instructor Xu’s address, Gao Yuan knew the young man was likely his nephew.

The nephew still protested: “He’s talented—he improves just by training one day. Give me his talent, and I’d train every day too! But I don’t have it, so sleeping a little longer doesn’t hurt!”

Gao Yuan listened and thought it made perfect sense—the man possessed great wisdom.

“Will you train or not?” Instructor Xu clenched his fist.

“I’ll train! Is that enough?!”

The nephew took a stance—it wasn’t the Crane Stance, but another martial art.

Watching his reluctant, yet powerless resistance, Gao Yuan felt a pang of kinship and offered him a kind smile.

“What are you smiling at?” The young man sneered at Gao Yuan’s smile.

Gao Yuan froze, then heard the young man glance at him, then at Zheng Fa, exhale sharply through his nose, muttering:

“Up so early? Same breed!”

Gao Yuan’s calm finally cracked.

I’m this useless, yet I still have to endure the jealousy meant only for geniuses—is there no justice?!

…

The three trained, while the Seventh Young Master and Instructor Xu exchanged a glance—both eyes filled with the same worry.

They walked to a corner and spoke in hushed tones.

“What do you think, Instructor?” the Seventh Young Master asked, glancing at Zheng Fa.

“Too hasty,” Instructor Xu frowned, shaking his head. “I already warned them: martial training can’t be rushed. Greed leads to injury. I thought Zheng Fa was level-headed—I never expected this.”

“Was he like this before?” the Seventh Young Master asked, as if recalling something.

“No…” Instructor Xu’s expression shifted, looking at the Seventh Young Master: “Are you referring to the ‘Spirit Crane Body’?”

The Seventh Young Master nodded, face grave: “A few days ago, he barely slept—he said he was contemplating the ‘Spirit Crane Body.’”

Instructor Xu also looked at Zheng Fa, sighing: “I thought he was more carefree than me. Turns out, like me—he was too used to success, and now he can’t accept failure.”

Seeing the Seventh Young Master still worried, Instructor Xu reassured him: “Don’t worry—I’m watching him.”

The Seventh Young Master nodded, glanced once more at Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan, then turned and left.

…

In the Lady’s pavilion, the Seventh Young Master and his mother sat across from each other, each holding a cup of tea.

“I never expected choosing you two book attendants would make you visit me more often,” the Lady smiled.

“Mother!” the Seventh Young Master grumbled.

“I know, I know—it’s not because of them.”

“By the way, Mother, find Gao Yuan a bookkeeper tutor,” the Seventh Young Master suddenly said.

“Hmm?”

“He reads well, has decent martial aptitude, and works hard,” the Seventh Young Master said without his usual disdain for Gao Yuan: “Get him a tutor to learn accounting—he’ll be qualified to become the estate’s chief steward.”

The Lady nodded. “And the other one?”

“Zheng Fa…” The Seventh Young Master couldn’t hide a trace of resentment: “He has talent for talisman arts—he might even enter an Immortal Sect… but Mother, you gave him that ‘Spirit Crane Body.’ Even if he could’ve mastered it, fine—but now he can’t, and these past few days he’s become obsessed.”

“He can’t master it,” the Lady said, lowering her gaze to the rising steam in her teacup.

“Mother?” The Seventh Young Master slowly turned his head to look at his mother: “What did you just say?”

“He can’t master it.”