Chapter 340: Resolution

Wang Feiyin studied Tao Yanbai's expression and sighed, "You've been wronged."

Tears rolled down Tao Yanbai's face in an instant. He could no longer hold back and threw himself into Wang Feiyin's arms, sobbing loudly, "First Senior Uncle—"

Wang Feiyin held him and patted his back.

Tao Yanbai was only fifteen full years old this year. In the eyes of the world, a child of this age should begin discussing marriage and take on the heavy burden of a household. But in Wang Feiyin's eyes, they were still like toddlers, still half-knowing about this world.

He sighed softly, patting him gently to soothe his emotions.

After Tao Yanbai finished crying, he left Wang Feiyin's embrace, knelt on both knees before the bed wiping his tears, lowered his head and said in a muffled voice, "I know that doing this will make Third Uncle break his word with the Tao family. I shouldn't have made such an improper request…"

"Child," Wang Feiyin gently cut him off, "Don't be so understanding. You should love yourself a little more, be a little more selfish."

Tao Yanbai raised his tear-filled eyes and looked at Wang Feiyin in confusion, "Don't adults always teach children to be selfless?"

Wang Feiyin said, "Did your Third Uncle and I ever teach you that?"

Tao Yanbai seriously thought back and realized that First Senior Uncle and Third Uncle really had never taught him to be selfless.

He scratched his head in frustration.

Wang Feiyin sighed, "Had I known it would come to this, I wouldn't have let you return to the Tao family for New Year in past years."

Tao Yanbai lowered his head.

Wang Feiyin did not bring up old grievances again. Besides, he could not say the Tao family had spoiled the child. It was just that they themselves could not do it, yet kept demanding it of Tao Yanbai, which made Wang Feiyin both disdainful and angry.

He asked gently, "Have you decided? Once you go to Long Hushan Academy, that counts as formally entering the Dao. Those who enter the Dao will gradually grow distant from their families, especially disciples of my Mount Sanqing — there is almost no possibility of returning to a mortal family."

Tao Yanbai said with a solemn face, "I've decided! But Third Uncle…"

"Since you've decided to enter the Dao, stop using mortal forms of address. From now on, he is only your Third Uncle-Master."

"Yes, Third Uncle-Master. He, what should he do?"

Wang Feiyin waved his hand dismissively, "What's there to fear? Would the Tao family still dare cause him trouble now? These are trivial matters. Intent is paramount."

His lips trembled as he said, "But breaking one's word doesn't sound good if it gets out."

Wang Feiyin: "You, not at all like someone raised in my Sanqing Monastery. Too shackled by reputation."

He said, "When doing things, being true to yourself and having a clear conscience is enough. Why burden yourself — and burden others — for a bit of reputation?"

Tao Yanbai lowered his head and said nothing.

Wang Feiyin patted his head and said, "When your Third Uncle-Master returns, ask him and see if he cares."

Tao Yanbai did not quite dare speak.

Wang Feiyin scolded him fondly, "Without even this much courage, how will you cultivate the Dao?"

Only then did Tao Yanbai agree.

Wang Feiyin waved his hand, "Go, rest early. Since you've decided to cultivate the Dao, make the most of this period to practice. Take your Senior Brother along."

Wang Feiyin muttered, "Of everyone on the mountain, you two are the least diligent in cultivation…"

Tao Yanbai hung his head and agreed, then quietly retreated.

Wang Cong tactfully did not eavesdrop, obediently lying on his own bed, unaware that disaster was about to befall him.

Wang Feiyin woke the next day according to his body's clock. When he got up, it was still pitch dark outside. By the time he washed his face and tied his hair, the sky had still not shown light.

After offering incense to the patriarchs in the great hall, he looked east. Seeing the first light of dawn, he smiled slightly, strode out, sent his flying sword beneath his feet, and vanished into the horizon in an instant.

In Fucheng, the prefectural capital of Guangxin, Qu Le was still kneeling in the inn's courtyard.

The inn's Shopkeeper, afraid something might happen to him, had spent half the previous day persuading him, thumping his chest and declaring, "They've already settled the bill and left. They won't be coming back."

Qu Le said nothing and stubbornly kept kneeling.

He knelt from morning to afternoon, then from afternoon to night. Until deep into the night, Pan Yun and the others still did not reappear.

Qu Le's heart grew colder and colder, until he had finally given up hope. But he still did not rise, merely kneeling with his head drooping.

He had already knelt for a full day and half a night — the cost was too high. Rising now would be no different, so he might as well keep kneeling.

Mainly, he couldn't figure it out.

Pan Yun had clearly been willing to accept him on behalf of Mount Sanqing earlier; it was just that she could not decide for Master Xuanmiao, which was why she had haggled with him.

The meaning she conveyed was clearly that, if she could accept disciples on Master Xuanmiao's behalf, she would have done so long ago.

She coveted the money in his hands.

He knew she coveted it.

So why, once he offered to take her as his master, did she stop coveting it?

Something about how, if he took her as his master, his life would likely be short and his family would be implicated — he didn't believe a word of it.

That was most likely just Pan Yun's excuse.

Could his aptitude really be that poor — so poor that no one who saw him was willing to take him?

Qu Le's confidence was battered again and again. The self-assurance that had been praised to the skies by family and relatives since childhood came crashing down with a slap.

He thought, aggrieved: If he couldn't take Pan Yun and Master Xuanmiao as his masters, then falling back, taking that so-called "Second Senior Brother" as his master would also work.

They were all Mount Sanqing disciples; he should know flight arts too. Qu Le realized his demands were dropping again and again while what he was giving kept increasing. He couldn't help raising his hand and slapping himself, cursing, "Qu Le, you're really fucking stupid. Could I have been swindled?"

But then he recalled Master Xuanmiao's dashing figure slaying enemies back then, and the cauldron that flew past in a flash. Qu Le pulled back a shred of confidence: "No way, I saw it with my own eyes. How could I have been swindled?"

"Besides, if they were swindling me, at the very least someone would have to show up to wrap things up, right? Damn it, they've all vanished without a trace. No one pays me any attention at all, money with nowhere to spend — what kind of swindle is that?"

The more Qu Le thought about it, the more aggrieved he became. He couldn't help wiping the tears from the corner of his eye and said, sniffling, "Couldn't one of you come out and swindle my money…"

It was at this moment that Wang Feiyin descended from midair, standing behind and to his side, looking at him.

The newly risen morning sun shone right onto Wang Feiyin, casting his shadow over Qu Le.

The shadow was faint, almost invisible, but Qu Le still noticed it at once. He turned his wet eyes to look at Wang Feiyin.

After sizing the man up from head to toe, Wang Feiyin asked, "You are Qu Le?"

Qu Le: "Yeah, that's me. Who are you?"

Wang Feiyin: "This poor Daoist is Wang Feiyin, Abbot of Sanqing Monastery."

!. Read

Qu Le's mouth fell slightly open, and only after a long while did he find his own voice, "Are you real, or are you impersonating Daoist Wang to swindle my money?"

Wang Feiyin: …

He stared at Qu Le's face for a moment, then shook his head and said, "Get up. My junior sister has already returned to the mountain, and she won't take you as a disciple."

Qu Le's face looked terrible. He didn't get up—not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. His legs had gone stiff, and his feet were numb.

He laboriously shifted his knees, then braced himself on his arms and sat down on the ground, spreading his two legs out flat.

Even though he'd been rejected, even though he'd only just cried—his eyes still red—he still raised his chin proudly and said, "You've already rejected me, so why come? Could it be that if Pan Sanzhu won't take me as a disciple, Daoist Wang will?"

Wang Feiyin felt the lad wasn't entirely worthless, and it was no wonder his little junior sister, after returning, still couldn't forget him and felt uneasy, so she'd found him a way out at Long Hushan.

He smiled and said, "Young man, don't be so hot-tempered. My little junior sister said you wanted to follow her in cultivation only to learn object-flight?"

"So that was object-flight," Qu Le murmured. "I can learn other things too, learn them all together."

His eyes gradually lit up. "You—you've changed your mind, you're willing to take me as a disciple?"

Wang Feiyin said, "Let me draw a talisman for you. How about you copy it once?"

Qu Le felt a bad premonition stirring in his heart.

Sure enough, Wang Feiyin reached into his sleeve and pulled out two sheets of white paper and a cinnabar brush.

"Yellow talisman paper is small—you can draw on white paper." Wang Feiyin squatted beside him, slowed his movements, and carefully drew two strokes, then handed the brush to him. "You try."

Try it then, try it.

Qu Le gripped the brush, stared hard at those two crooked lines on the paper, and tried hard to recall the way he'd just drawn them—only to find that his mind retained nothing but the opening stroke; everything else was blurred.

Qu Le swallowed, and could only copy the gourd to draw the dipper, doing his best to make it look similar.

Wang Feiyin looked at the utterly unchanged spiritual energy around him, then at his hesitant brush-tip, and fell silent.

What junior sister said was still an understatement—he truly had zero aptitude.

Wang Feiyin didn't even have the desire to try once more. He pulled the cinnabar brush from his hand, swiftly tucked the paper away, and smiled at the dumbfounded Qu Le. "Let me feel your bones."

Without waiting for him to speak, Wang Feiyin grabbed his wrist, felt his hand, patted his back, then pinched his legs—and he had the measure of things in his heart.

Wang Feiyin asked him solemnly, "Young man, do you truly wish to cultivate the Dao?"

Qu Le's heart was uneasy, yet a sliver of hope rose in him, and he nodded fiercely at Wang Feiyin.

Perhaps Wang Feiyin's face was too trustworthy, or perhaps kneeling for a day and a night had been too aggrieving—Qu Le even told him the reason he'd run away from home. "For the sake of cultivation, I've already left home."

Wang Feiyin: "…Your family doesn't agree with you cultivating the Dao?"

Qu Le nodded. "I'm the only seedling in my family. They're afraid I'll enter the priesthood and cut off the lineage."

Wang Feiyin exhaled, and said with a careless smile, "Our Zhengyi Dao has no such rule—unless you go become a Quanzhen Daoist Priest, but…"

Wang Feiyin paused.

Qu Le asked anxiously, "But what?"

"But child, your talent is ordinary. If you cultivate the Dao, I'm afraid you'll find it hard to advance an inch. But your bone structure is good—if you practice martial arts, perhaps in the future you could claim a place for yourself in the jianghu."

"Wasting your own talent to chase after something you're not suited for—you may spend your whole life unable to attain it, and throw away your own future."

Qu Le: "I'm not afraid! If I don't try, how will I know I can't do it?"

"And if you reach old age and discover you truly cannot?"

Qu Le: "Then I've tried my best, and I have no regrets. It's my own choice—I'll bear it myself!"

Wang Feiyin showed a smile. "Good. With a mind like that, you're not entirely a rotten piece of wood."

Qu Le's eyes lit up. "Daoist, you're willing to take me as a disciple?"

(End of chapter)