Chapter 208: The Foolish Child

“Senior, you mean ‘opening the dragon vein’ is about planting a seed in me?”

“No.”

True Person Qixia studied Xie Jinhuan, who showed not the slightest fear:

“According to my experience, if you have the foundation, it’ll manifest the moment you leave the mountains; if you don’t, even if I split your spine open, you still won’t have it. Let me test.”

As he spoke, a thread of golden light surged from True Person Qixia’s third eye, slowly spreading forward until it merged into his body.

Xie Jinhuan sensed something entering—expected a violent impact, his limbs and bones reshaped by overwhelming power, and so on.

But it wasn’t like that. He only felt the golden light flow in, as if something within him had been awakened, a faint swelling ache spreading through his entire body.

Then his limbs and bones changed—every muscle fiber, every bone, even his meridians and organs, were stirred awake; his bodily functions accelerated visibly, surpassing human limits in an instant…

…

True Person Qixia stared into Xie Jinhuan’s eyes and saw faint threads of silver radiance flickering deep within those cold, icy pupils—her own gaze more astonished than his:

“It really is there! We might both have been trained by the same outsider old devil. But you left the mountains too early—you have talent, but haven’t cultivated it yet, can’t control it.”

Xie Jinhuan was initially delighted, but soon realized his body’s efficiency continued to rise—his current vessel could never contain such power; a single breath sent his dantian churning violently, and if he attempted the Pan Dragon Horizontal Ridge technique, he would likely rupture his chest and splatter the white-haired Daoist nun with blood…

Sensing his body was about to explode, Xie Jinhuan hurriedly said:

“Enough, enough, Senior, stop your technique…”

True Person Qixia merely shifted her intent slightly, and the overwhelming aura vanished like wind—summit restored to stillness. She stepped forward, pinched his arm:

“Muscles lax, bones brittle—definitely can’t handle it. You must first cross the Heavenly-People threshold before you can gradually master this talent. Logically, you should’ve left only after reaching Supergrade; your foundation isn’t even solid yet. What’s the point of leaving so early?”

Xie Jinhuan had awakened in Zhenyao Ling, unaware of where he’d left the mountains. He shrugged slightly:

“I’m not entirely sure myself… but now I’m Grade One, not far from Supergrade. I’ll work harder, try to raise my foundation as soon as possible.”

True Person Qixia had come to test him for tomorrow’s arena, but with a body this fragile, if she fully awakened his talent, he’d die on the spot. So she pressed a finger to his forehead:

“I’ll awaken just a pinch of your talent within your tolerance—enough to resist the withering qi and boost your burst slightly, but not enough to defeat five-directional divine blessings cultivated over years. To win, you’ll have to find your own way.”

As she spoke, Xie Jinhuan felt qi surge into his third eye, descending along the main meridians—first prying open obscure channels, then sealing them, locking seven major acupoints in sequence.

“Is this the Seven-Star Nails?”

“Yes. The Seven-Star Nails were originally my own self-sealing technique to prevent self-harm. Later modified to seal the blood of demonic cultivators… blood for blood!”

“?”

Xie Jinhuan felt like she’d sealed a bundle of demonic Daoists and was preparing to sacrifice them together!

After all, ordinary people dealing with demonic Daoists either crushed their bones to ash or shattered their bodies and imprisoned them in Thunder Pools.

To painstakingly seal a demonic Daoist’s cultivation without damaging his body—that’s exactly how demonic Daoists treat their sacrificial offerings…

As True Person Qixia planted each Seven-Star Nail, Xie Jinhuan felt his body return to normal, unchanged from before. He asked:

“And then?”

True Person Qixia spoke solemnly: “Planting the Seven-Star Nails prevents you from injuring yourself by overexertion. I’ve sealed your meridians in advance. When you later open your dragon vein and encounter a barrier during use, it means your body can’t bear it—stop pushing. It also prevents explosion from taking potent pills that surge your cultivation without matching bodily strength.”

“Half of the meridians are sealed at Tian Shu. The remaining six stars each hold eight percent. Right now, if you unseal Yao Guang, the effect will match your body’s current limit—but it drains heavily, won’t last long, and must be resealed after use. When you reach Supergrade, you can unseal Yang; mid-stage, Yu Heng; and so on. Once fully mastered, you’ll manifest power rivaling a true dragon—but that’s far off…”

Eight percent is eight percent. Xie Jinhuan had just tested it—he’d felt it was terrifying enough. If it were one hundred percent, he’d probably fly straight into the sky.

But according to the white-haired Daoist nun, if he went all out, his cultivation would rival Wei Wuyi’s—indeed very distant. He bowed slightly:

“Understood. It’s getting late—shall I escort you back to rest?”

True Person Qixia knew Xie Jinhuan had a marital bond with her unseen granddaughter, but her cultivation records showed the granddaughter couldn’t keep up with Xie Jinhuan.

As his ancestress, now awakened, helping only Xie Jinhuan while neglecting her own descendant would be unthinkable.

“No rush. I’ll visit a few old acquaintances. I’ll return soon.”

“Uh, Senior, your body isn’t fully healed yet—if…”

As Xie Jinhuan looked up, the mountain summit was empty—no trace of the white-haired Daoist nun remained.

?

Xie Jinhuan scanned the surroundings, shrugged slightly—he was almost used to it by now—and turned back toward Zihui Mountain. But as he surveyed the endless, desolate peaks—“A thousand mountains, birds gone; ten thousand paths, no human trace”—he paused:

“Where the hell did they drop me this time? Meiqiu? … Ghost daughter-in-law?”

The wilderness remained silent—no reply…

—

Elsewhere, Liangzhou.

A decaying yellow-earth courtyard sat on the Gobi Desert; the old well had long dried up, the original buildings reduced to earthen walls half a man’s height.

Night wind swept across the Gobi, stirring dust and dryness, rustling the monk’s robe:

Pup-pup~

Master Fachen lay in the cracked courtyard, his consciousness stirring at some unknown moment. He squinted at the vast starry sky, eyes filled with confusion. He rose, looked around, then fixed his gaze on the broken wall.

Before the wall stood an old monk in a kasaya, leaning on a Nine-Dragon Chan staff amid the sandstorm. His robe fluttered in the wind, just as it had the first time they met.

The only difference: both now bore the marks of many years…

Master Fachen’s eyes grew hazy. He stood:

“Why didn’t you kill me? Planning to show mercy once more?”

Master Wuxin spun his prayer beads, voice as gentle and paternal as ever:

“I only wish to know: you have the potential, so why commit such great evil?”

Fachen was already beyond redemption. He no longer suppressed the buried words within him, scoffing:

“Master, you’re overly cautious, convinced that ‘upholding the righteous path, avoiding conflict, urging others toward goodness’ will make others grateful, the court honor you, and all sects coexist peacefully. But what was the result? Never mind the fate of the Chan Ding Sect—you couldn’t even persuade me.”

“Forty years ago, my father practiced demonic Daoism to make a ‘Human Essence Pill’ to prolong my mother’s life, killing dozens. You caught him. Before execution, he begged you to care for his wife and child.”

“You, with your compassionate heart, knew it was an unforgivable grudge, yet still took my mother and me back to Tiantai Temple. You didn’t eradicate us. You raised me, this ‘innocent child,’ as your own.”

“But I was six. I watched my father turn to ash behind that wall. I watched my mother waste away, medicineless, die in my arms.”

“You believe treating others kindly can transform them, make them lay down their knives and become Buddhas.”

“But my father killed to save my mother. Even if he bore a thousand sins, how could I see him as evil? My mother, until her last breath, kept making me cloth shoes—how could I abandon the past and claim purity?”

Master Wuxin listened quietly, then sighed softly as he spun his beads:

“So you think I was wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong!”

Master Fachen’s expression was calm:

“You treated me like a son. I respected you. I studied Buddhism with all my might. But I have talent, no wisdom, and none of your noble character. No matter how guilty my parents were, I must avenge them!”

“I am like this. So are all beings outside the temple! You treat others kindly, yet the Daoists trample you. The court sees your kindness, calls you when needed, discards you when done. I knew you were right, yet I still didn’t remember your kindness. Do you think outsiders will forgive you? Only you cling to the illusion of Buddhist cultivation. Everyone else walks the path of the strong devouring the weak!”

Master Wuxin nodded gently:

“Are you trying to persuade me to turn back?” Fachen replied: “I dragged the entire Chan Ding Sect into irredeemable ruin to avenge my parents. But this act also urges you to abandon your unrealistic ideals. The world isn’t as you imagine.”

Master Wuxin spun his beads, silent for a long while. Finally, he leaned his staff into the ground and sat before him, his drowsy eyes now holding a sigh:

“Foolish child, I’ve lived over a hundred years, taught by countless righteous elders, slain innumerable cunning demons. How could you think you must teach me what cultivation truly is?”

Master Fachen laughed bitterly:

“If you know that, why cling to unrealistic ideals—why believe kindness can redeem the world?”

Creak~

Master Wuxin planted his staff in the earth, sat cross-legged, and sighed softly:

“You’re too young. Everything is black or white—you see things too simply. The He family case involved all sects. He Tianqi and Lu Wu were merely surface figures.”

“Behind He Tianqi stand not only demonic Daoists, but also the Witch Cult, the Buddhist Sect, and possibly even martial arts factions. And you are the one who stepped in on behalf of the Buddhist Sect.”

“The demonic Daoists seek to incite sectarian conflict and unearth the Corpse Ancestor’s tomb. The Witch Cult aims to enter the Central Plains. Your goal is revenge against me.”

“These three seem unrelated, but if one controls the nation’s ruler, all three goals can be achieved simultaneously. Hence the ‘He family’ was concocted by the Witch and Demon Daoists.”

“Had things gone smoothly: the Crown Prince ascends, the He family seizes power; the Witch Cult returns to the Central Plains under the new emperor; the demonic Daoists revive by unearthing the Corpse Ancestor’s tomb; you enter the scheme, bear the blame, and drag the entire Chan Ding Sect into ruin.”

“Though the Witch and Demon Daoists would inevitably clash afterward, all three would have achieved their initial goals. Correct?”

As Altar Master, Fachen knew only the broad outline. But this analysis, grounded in each side’s interests, was undeniably plausible.

Master Wuxin continued:

“But unfortunately, Xie Jinhuan became an ‘unknown variable’ in the capital, uprooting the He family’s relatives and hidden agents. The He family lost most of its wings and can no longer control the court.”

“Moreover, the late Emperor’s actions—‘rigorously investigating his beloved wife and children, secretly meeting the Pill King before death’—made the shadowy master realize the late Emperor was iron-fisted. Even if he left only one heir, the Crown Prince couldn’t ascend without facing secret vigilance from all sects.”

“Thus, the plan to seize control of Daqian became unfeasible. The Spirit God Sect retreated, settling instead for unearthing the Corpse Ancestor’s tomb and probing the Qilin Cave’s secrets.”

“Otherwise, even if I and Fan Li had both read the ‘Imperial Secret Scripture,’ the shadowy master wouldn’t have unearthed the Corpse Ancestor’s tomb solely for your sake.”

“They needed to first use the new emperor to let the Witch Cult enter the Central Plains, incite sectarian conflict, then act. Unearthing too early would ‘alert the snake.’”

“The Crown Prince did see the Imperial Secret Scripture. But the Spirit God Sect didn’t know if it was real or fake, nor the Corpse Ancestor’s tomb’s defenses. So they needed someone to test it. The tomb won’t run. Once the location is confirmed, they can dig later.”

“Since it was a test, the Spirit God Sect couldn’t risk heavy losses—so you stepped in.”

Master Wuxin looked intently at his disciple:

“That day in the underground palace, I didn’t read the Imperial Secret Scripture. Whether He Tianqi knew this, I’m unsure—but you certainly didn’t.”

“If you had known, you wouldn’t have followed He Tianqi’s orders. Doing so only helped the demonic Daoists verify the forgery—it wouldn’t have destroyed me or the Chan Ding Sect.”

Master Fachen trembled:

“You didn’t read it?”

Master Wuxin silently shook his head, continued:

“You didn’t care about life or death. You only wanted to enter the scheme, make me speechless. Once you received the order, you took your followers to Zihui Mountain.”

“The outcome was obvious: you fell into an ambush. He Tianqi knew the Imperial Secret Scripture was forged, the Crown Prince no longer useful, and turned away immediately. The Witch Cult’s shadowy master never showed their face. Only you, the Buddhist outcast, remained here.”

Master Fachen knew this reconstruction matched reality closely—he’d been betrayed by He Tianqi. He thought a moment, then said grimly:

So what if I’m treated as a disposable pawn? My goal is to bring down you and the Chan Ding Sect—I am the rightful heir, and after committing such heinous crimes, whether or not you’ve seen the Imperial Secret Scripture, you cannot escape blame…

The monk Wu Xin slightly raised his hand and continued:

“I tell you these things only to make clear that I understand your notion of the ‘Path of Cultivation.’

“Now I tell you why I am kind to others and seek no conflict.

“The Chan Ding Sect’s doctrine is ‘Stillness’: first, the mind remains unmoved; second, one remains unmoved in the face of circumstance. Whoever stirs, invites disturbance.

“Lu Wu truly desires the Daoist sect to dominate, forcing all other schools into remote backwaters; Wei Wu Yi, oppressed and resentful, schemes to root himself in the capital; you wish to restore the Chan Ding Sect, unleash the ‘Golden Scripture of Change,’ counterattack the Daoists, and even harbor resentment toward me for ignoring you.

“But what was the result? Everyone was busy fighting among themselves, giving the demonic Daoists and the Witch Cult openings. Lu Wu isn’t incapable of monitoring demons and evils—but all sects are stirring, and he’s too busy watching the Buddhist sect, guarding against the Confucians, and boosting the prestige of the Alchemy Sect. How much energy does he have left for real matters?

“I merely cultivate the Buddha’s Dharma at Tian Tai Temple; there’s no need to compete. I advised Lu Wu, but he wouldn’t listen. A single tree cannot hold back a storm; eventually, he’ll slip up—and when he does, he’ll ‘awaken’ on his own, and the imperial court will summon the Buddhist sect to the capital. Your years of frantic effort amount to less than one mistake by Lu Wu.”

Fa Chen stared at the old monk before him, his brow tightly furrowed:

“If not for Xie Jin’s intervention, if the He family had truly seized control of the Emperor and provoked conflict among the sects, unearthed the Corpse Ancestor’s tomb—wouldn’t you, as Sect Master, have committed a crime of cosmic magnitude by standing idly by?”

The monk Wu Xin shook his head:

“That day, I didn’t read the Imperial Secret Scripture because I believed the ancestors of these sects wouldn’t be so foolish as to entrust the Corpse Ancestor’s tomb to the Emperor and the Imperial Censor. The Emperor and the Censor should indeed know everything—but once they know, what can they do besides leak the secret?

“To me, the Emperor and the Censor are bait. The He family has plotted for decades, controlling the entire Da Qian Empire—yet what they finally unearth may be nothing more than another hermit in seclusion, or an empty coffin. The situation would be unchanged. As for provoking conflict among the sects—if I remain still, how can he stir anything?”

?

Fa Chen had never considered that even the true Imperial Secret Scripture might be fake; his brow tightened:

“Master, aren’t you afraid that even the ancestors weren’t so wise—that the demonic Daoists truly unearthed the Corpse Ancestor?”

The monk Wu Xin shook his head, his gaze like that of a man watching a foolish child:

“Even if the ancestors were fools and have all ascended to immortality, even if the Spirit God Sect unearthed the Corpse Ancestor—do you think my two decades of silent cultivation cannot suppress a spirit that has lost its body and squandered a century of Nascent Soul energy?

“Your ‘Path of Cultivation’ is merely the mortal world of mutual struggle and deceit—it is not ‘cultivation.’”

“True cultivation means you urge others toward goodness, even if they refuse to listen; but when others are in peril, you must still have the power to save them.”

“...”

Fa Chen fell utterly silent.

The monk Wu Xin slowly rose, leaning on his knees, and walked toward the desert:

“Life is but a dream, worldly affairs like clouds abound. Lay down the butcher’s knife, cultivate Buddha-nature. Pure heart, distant from dust; still mind, wisdom’s root refined. Henceforth return to Chan Ding, idly watch time slip away...”

Tap. Tap...

In his saffron robe, leaning on the Nine-Dragon Chan Staff, he chanted the Chan Ding Sect’s Buddhist verse, fading slowly into the desert winds.

Fa Chen sat where he was, staring blankly at the receding figure.

The last time he heard this verse, he had walked beside the old monk, holding his hand, while the monk carried his gravely ill mother on his back—he knew only that this was a great monk.

But now, for the first time, he understood why this kind-hearted monk could lead the Buddhist sect of Da Qian...

Boom—

Soon after, a muffled thud echoed from the ruined courtyard.

A karmic thread ended, gradually buried beneath the sands of time...

—

Requesting monthly votes or 2!

(End of Chapter)