Chapter 44

The seventh young master scratched his head: “Did my mother lie to me again?”

But there was no trace of anger or betrayal on his face—only a faint smile.

“The Lady probably didn’t lie,” Zheng Fa hesitated slightly, then spoke.

The seventh young master and Xu the instructor froze; the smile faded from the seventh young master’s face as he stared at Zheng Fa, as if unwilling to believe what he’d just heard:

“But didn’t you already cultivate it?”

Xu the instructor beside him also furrowed his brow, clearly sharing the same question.

“I can cultivate it, but most people probably can’t.”

These two men before him were among the few Zheng Fa truly trusted, yet he revealed nothing of his modern past.

But some things can’t be hidden—clearly, from the seventh young master’s words, the Lady understood just how difficult it was to master the Spirit Crane Body.

If Zheng Fa succeeded in cultivating the Spirit Crane Body, the Lady would deduce he harbored a secret.

He had long prepared himself for this—his growing strength made this revelation inevitable.

Hiding it only invites suspicion; better to say nothing, yet reveal nothing either.

Indeed, the seventh young master and Xu the instructor exchanged a glance, as if sensing something, yet neither asked.

The seventh young master’s expression darkened again: “So my mother didn’t lie to me.”

He looked as if he’d rather have been thoroughly deceived.

Zheng Fa turned to Xu the instructor: “So the seventh young master is right—you shouldn’t doubt yourself.”

Xu the instructor’s face shifted through several expressions before he let out a long breath: “So that’s how it is…”

The seventh young master’s voice grew quiet: “Xu instructor, it was my mother…”

“The Lady didn’t need to go to such lengths.”

“Huh?”

Xu the instructor looked at the seventh young master and smiled: “You’ve probably forgotten—I’m a household-born servant, with a bonded contract in the Zhao household.”

The seventh young master froze.

“If she didn’t want me to leave, one word from her would’ve been enough. Why go through all this trouble, unless she wanted to preserve this master-servant bond?”

Zheng Fa nodded—Xu the instructor had a point.

From his perspective, his life belonged to the Zhao family; the Lady’s methods were almost gentle.

But Zheng Fa had lived in the modern world—he didn’t fully accept this bond of personal servitude.

And the seventh young master… Zheng Fa glanced at the stunned boy—he simply hadn’t thought it through at all.

“But you’ve wasted twenty years…”

The seventh young master still looked troubled.

“No one forced me—I just valued the Spirit Crane Body too much.”

Xu the instructor smiled sincerely, as if he’d never once blamed the Lady.

The seventh young master’s expression slowly lightened.

“I have friends—they were all like my younger self, yearning for the Jianghu,” Xu the instructor continued. “They charged in—and never came back.”

Zheng Fa and the seventh young master listened in silence.

“But I’ve lived in peace within the Zhao household for twenty years—I even have great-grandchildren now. In that sense, the Lady may have saved my life.” He patted Zheng Fa’s shoulder: “My only regret was the Spirit Crane Body. Now that you’ve shown me what it truly is, what else could I possibly regret?”

The seventh young master thought for a moment, then slapped his hand: “So my mother actually did something good? All this time I’ve been holding it in!”

Watching him grin with relief, Zheng Fa glanced at Xu the instructor but said nothing.

“It’s late. You two should go back.” Xu the instructor told them.

Zheng Fa and the seventh young master took their leave; Xu the instructor stood with his hands behind his back, watching their retreating figures fade into the distance.

At midnight, when Xu the instructor’s nephew rose to relieve himself, he saw a dark shadow standing beneath the moonlight—he nearly fainted, but upon recognizing the figure, he sighed in relief and rubbed his eyes:

“Uncle, why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Didn’t you tell me you wanted to venture into the Jianghu?”

“Why bring that up now? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t let me go?”

Hearing his nephew’s slightly resentful tone, Xu the instructor didn’t turn around—he only gazed at the waning moon: “Go. In a few days, I’ll ask the Lady to return your contract. After today, she’ll likely grant me this favor.”

“But you said you wanted me to stay and care for you in your old age…”

“Just write often—tell me what the Jianghu is like. I’ve never seen it.”

…

The Spirit Crane Heart Scripture brought Zheng Fa unexpected changes: the next morning, when he stretched his arm, he saw a thin layer of skin peeling off his forearm, and white flakes covered his bed.

When he washed his face, his reflection in the bronze mirror nearly made him fail to recognize himself.

In his youth, he’d worked the fields for Zheng Mu, his skin darkened and roughened by sun and wind.

But the face in the mirror was luminously pale, smooth and fine—no pores visible even up close.

The seventh young master’s study.

Zheng Fa noticed Gao Yuan staring at him, inching closer and closer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Zheng Fa, you… smell good!”

Gao Yuan leaned his nose toward Zheng Fa, as if trying to inhale deeply.

“Stop! If you sniff again, I’ll hit you!”

Zheng Fa swore—he’d never been this terrified.

“I hadn’t noticed until Gao Yuan said it, but Zheng Fa, you really do smell sweet,” said the seventh young master, looking up from his desk and studying Zheng Fa closely.

“Why is your face so pale? Did you powder it?”

“I didn’t powder anything…” Zheng Fa froze, touching his face. “It must be because of the Spirit Crane Body.”

“You say you mastered the Spirit Crane Body, and now your face is pale and you smell sweet?” Gao Yuan’s eyes widened with deep envy: “To enter the Dao through martial arts—truly miraculous.”

The seventh young master, however, seemed to recall something and stroked his chin: “I heard my mother say the Spirit Crane Body is meant to cultivate a Dao Body.”

“Dao Body?” Zheng Fa recalled the strange power he’d sensed after mastering the Spirit Crane Body—and understood.

“Zheng Fa, how did you master the Spirit Crane Body? When I finally get the Song Crane Stance down, I’ll ask the Lady to grant me the Spirit Crane Body too.”

Gao Yuan didn’t know the secret of cultivating the Spirit Crane Body; hearing this, he now felt genuine interest in the art.

More importantly, the miraculous changes in Zheng Fa after mastering it had stirred his desire.

The seventh young master beside him said nothing, his eyes bright with curiosity as he watched Zheng Fa.

“The key is visualization—visualizing all kinds of birds,” Zheng Fa said, having nothing to hide.

Both nodded, looking impressed.

The seventh young master added: “Visualization techniques—I’ve seen them in novels. Truly immortal arts.”

But Zheng Fa frowned, voicing the doubt he’d carried since mastering the Spirit Crane Body: “But why does visualization work? What exactly is visualization?”

He looked up to find the two of them ignoring him entirely, heads together, enthusiastically discussing visualization and the latest novels they’d read.

Seeing Zheng Fa still frowning, the seventh young master looked up, puzzled: “If visualization works, why does the ‘why’ matter?”

“Doesn’t it matter?”

Both shook their heads, staring at Zheng Fa as if he were incomprehensible.

…

“Mother, why did you call me?”

“Has Zheng Fa truly mastered the Spirit Crane Body?”

“He has!” said the seventh young master, smiling.

“What are you grinning about? Do you know what this means?” the Lady snapped at her foolish son.

“What?”

“It means he has at least a Nascent Soul True Person behind him—possibly even some scheme against our Zhao household!”

The seventh young master froze. He blinked, as if not understanding, then slowly pieced the words together: “Nascent Soul True Person… against our family… a scheme?”

The Lady nodded.

“But… what does he want?” the seventh young master asked, genuinely bewildered. “Do we even matter?”

“...”