Chapter 71

"Being recorded on the Merit Ledger is naturally a good thing. As for folk tales, there’s no point discussing them—no one knows if they’re true or false. For us Daoists, having our names entered on a deity’s Merit Ledger means, at best, we might receive some favor should we encounter a deity in the future; at worst, well, if we ever do something wrong and happen to cross paths with that deity, perhaps we’ll get a bit of leniency."

"After all, this is the age of incense-based divine paths; the Heavenly Elder governs the Nine Heavens above and below—no matter how you look at it, it’s still a good thing."

"The two had already handed over the demon man and the matters in the city to the Daoists of Qiyun Mountain and returned to retrieve their companions from Jian Dao Peak."

"At this moment, two Daoists walked along the street, followed by a donkey carrying several cats, each poking their heads out of bamboo baskets, curiously gazing at the street; the third senior brother walked while explaining to him."

"From your tone, Senior Brother, the latter seems more common?" Lin Jue asked.

"Haha, naturally," the third senior brother chuckled. "Our Lingfa Sect’s cultivators aren’t even listed among the Nine Heavens—we roam freely, cultivate ourselves; why would we need deities’ favor? But we might occasionally offend a deity—through disputes, misunderstandings, or smashing idols and temples because we deemed a deity unworthy—and then get reported. In such cases, having some merit recorded helps these immortals show us a little mercy."

"I see."

"That’s why I say the Daoists of Xuantian Temple are quite considerate."

"I feel this matter isn’t simple—it may involve a spirit that has already grown powerful."

"Brother, brother, since you’ve entrusted it to the Qiyun Mountain Daoists, stop worrying," the third senior brother shook his head. "These celestial spirits of the Nine Heavens feast on the incense and offerings of all the people, just as the imperial court feeds on the taxes and salaries of the people—they naturally bear the responsibility. Besides, they’re far better suited to handle such matters. If they can’t uncover the truth, what can we do?"

"They should be able to find out."

"Even if they can’t, that’s their problem," the third senior brother said indifferently. "You must understand: our Lingfa Sect walks the path of freedom. When we rid the people of demons, we don’t hold back—we may wield our swords across a thousand li when righteous anger rises. In short, we act when we must, cut ties when we must, leave when we must—that’s true detachment."

"Makes sense."

"Besides, they promised to write us once they’ve investigated—already more than enough," the third senior brother raised his gourd and drank. "Life is full of countless trivial matters—what’s worth dimming your smile?"

"Yes…"

Lin Jue fell into thought.

No wonder this senior brother is so carefree every day.

He turned around—

Though the townsfolk who had followed them to the county office to watch the spectacle had long dispersed, they were still scattered throughout the city; as they passed through alleyways, glances and pointing fingers came from all sides.

Lin Jue felt he could almost hear their hushed whispers.

"They say it was the paper merchants who brought them in…"

"The demon returned the money…"

"And there was a demon man…"

"That family behind Minsheng Street went into business—their gate was shut, but the demon man hid inside, using magic to make knives fly through the air, soaring over the street…"

"That young Daoist just passed right through the door, went in and came out, then went in again…"

"…"

Countless people had witnessed the magical duel on the street—and told it to countless others.

Soon, this will surely become a local legend, passed mouth to mouth?

Lin Jue suddenly thought so in his heart.

"Go buy carving knives."

The third senior brother weighed a small bag of silver scraps—the merchants’ thanks: "Life in the mountains is dull. As your cultivation deepens and you no longer need to tutor others, it’ll only get duller. Even if you never achieve anything with the Bean Soldiers path, just carve wood to pass the time—or learn a craft—it’s still worthwhile."

Lin Jue agreed with this.

This was a provincial capital, bustling with trade—carving knives were certainly available, and the third senior brother knew exactly where to find them.

He immediately took Lin Jue to select a set.

It cost thirteen taels of silver.

With the remainder, they bought wine, several jin of cooked mutton, a dozen small fish, and premium hay. Interestingly, while purchasing the meat and wine, someone came forward to pay for them.

When questioned, the person bowed respectfully, saying it was a gift for the demon-slaying master.

The two had no choice but to accept.

"Thank you, Jian Dao Peak Daoists, for this journey. These small fish are for the road; the rest of what we owe you won’t be forgotten—once we return to the mountain, Seventh Junior will personally deliver it to Jian Dao Peak. Fuyao earned merit too—you get two jin of mutton: one on the road, one when we return. Donkey Senior worked hardest—he deserves a good meal…"

The third senior brother said slowly as they left the city.

This was the harvest of this descent.

Of course, merit recorded on the ledger was a harvest; slaying demons was a harvest; even simply descending the mountain was a harvest.

No path in life is ever walked in vain.

…

They returned to the temple.

After seeing off the demon creatures from Jian Dao Peak, the temple’s four cats remained. Lin Jue heard Seventh Junior laughing to Third Senior: "You sent Jian Dao Peak’s Daoists down to slay demons, and now you want me to catch fish to repay them"—though he only heard complaints, not refusal; likely, most of it was jest.

In any case, Lin Jue had returned to his room.

Fuyao Zijue returned to his cushion and lay down.

Lin Jue sat back beside his bed.

Sixth Senior had made him a new bookshelf, placed against the wall; Lin Jue pulled an ancient book from among a pile.

He turned to a new page:

Carving Beans into Soldiers, the Method of Bean Soldiers.

In ancient times, a True Person excelled at scattering beans to create soldiers, turning ordinary soybeans and stones into thousands of troops—but such divine power was too profound and difficult to learn. Later, many imitated this method and developed alternative techniques.

Carving Beans into Soldiers is one of the Wood-Metal arts, somewhat related to carving. It involves carving and consecrating wooden soldiers, transforming them into beans for easy carrying, and gaining the illusion of scattering beans to summon soldiers—effective in both magical duels and military formations.

"The illusion of scattering beans to summon soldiers? Is that even a real effect?" Lin Jue thought silently. "It seems 'Scattering Beans to Summon Soldiers' is widely known—and highly intimidating."

He continued reading:

This art demands hard work, requires vast time to master, and demands consecration bathed in sun and moon.

Fortunately, since it draws from the method of Scattering Beans to Summon Soldiers, practicing this aids in learning the true technique; if one achieves profound mastery and possesses exceptional talent, one might even awaken the true Scattering Beans to Summon Soldiers through this method alone.

"Whoa…"

Lin Jue turned the page.

Spell Control, controlling objects with incantations.

A technique adapted from Object Control and Spellcraft, easier to learn than Object Control, but requires constant focus on the incantation during casting. Effective in duels, yet riddled with openings—without a guardian, one must diligently cultivate advanced protective or concealment arts.

Practicing this also aids in mastering true Object Control; if one achieves profound mastery and possesses exceptional talent, one might even awaken true Object Control through this method alone.

"Whoa…"

Dragon Play, a trick art.

It turns weapons into snakes. If one’s mastery is shallow, it’s merely an illusion—confusing and terrifying opponents into dropping their weapons. If mastery is profound, the snakes depart on their own—but they must never harm anyone.

"I see."

Lin Jue widened his eyes, lost in thought.

He then studied it carefully.

This too was one of his gains.

Lin Jue was gradually understanding, grasping the profound truth behind Fourth Senior’s words: "Techniques value depth, not quantity." Most techniques are profoundly deep; ordinary people spend lifetimes mastering just one. To master them all is nearly impossible.

Even with this ancient book, it was impossible.

Of course, most cultivators and sorcerers below the mountain spend their lives mastering only one or two techniques—not because of this principle, but because techniques are exceedingly rare and uncommon, especially in this age dominated by deities and talisman sects. Lingfa Sect cultivators neither worship deities nor aid their cosmic order; their pursuit of freedom challenges the Heavenly Elder’s system. Thus, most techniques are passed down generationally; few ever encounter more than one or two, so they focus on one, perfect it, and become masters.

Yet techniques are wondrous, generating and countering each other. In duels, knowing more techniques is always advantageous—it helps one discern or deduce an opponent’s weaknesses and break them more easily.

Lin Jue could never learn all the techniques in the ancient book, let alone master them all—but he could learn some, and at least understand them. This way, he’d more easily find the technique best suited to him, perfect it, and remain unyielding in future duels below the mountain.

The technique Lin Jue now mastered best was actually Second Senior’s Fire Art, used to assist alchemy.

Second Senior used it for alchemy; Lin Jue used it for combat. Gradually, his fire was shifting from mundane flame to spiritual flame, and his control over it was growing stronger.

"Tap tap…"

A knock came at the door.

"Brother, I heard your robe got torn. Let me mend it for you."

It was First Senior’s voice.

Lin Jue opened the door.

Outside stood First Senior indeed—sleeves and pant legs rolled up, his appearance plain and honest; if not for his Daoist robe, he looked like a peasant from the lowlands or an ordinary elder brother.

"Thank you, Senior Brother."

Lin Jue took off his robe and handed it to him.

Little Sister had just returned from outside, her face and hair dusty, tangled by the mountain wind. Seeing him, her eyes lit up:

"Senior Brother’s back!"

"Back."

"For two days we’ve eaten nothing but porridge, using your salted meat and vegetable topping—today we finished it all!" Little Sister’s eyes sparkled. "When will you cook another bowl of covered-noodle stew?"

"Tomorrow," Lin Jue looked her up and down. "First, wash your face."

"It’s just stone dust—not dirty," Little Sister didn’t care, only staring at him. "Senior Brother, will you cook tonight?"

"…"

Lin Jue suddenly recalled the requirement for his Wood Concealment technique: harmony with plants and trees. Wasn’t Little Sister in harmony with stone and earth?

With this mindset, no wonder her progress was so swift.

This little sister was obedient, hardworking, and since coming to the mountain, her bond with Lin Jue had grown ever stronger—he truly wanted to teach her his Wood Concealment technique, or later, other Five Elements arts, once he found them. It felt like nurturing a disciple.