Chapter 39

"East side…" Master Senior took in the tortoise shell and began searching the eastern part of the house…

When the moon hung dead center, its light thick and bright, the quiet courtyard rang with the sound of a door opening. Master Senior, hair disheveled, stepped out holding a compass, muttering as he walked and calculating with his fingers, "The tortoise shell isn't accurate—I should've used the compass from the start. Why is it still the east side…?"

"East, east, east… south?"

Master Senior turned—and faced an empty house.

He blinked, then suddenly realized: yes, he'd piled some unused clutter in his son's room.

Master Senior tucked away the compass, pushed open the door, and without lighting a lamp, began rummaging through the darkness.

He turned the well-kept room into utter chaos, finally finding several books inside a box filled with toys.

Most were texts on mechanisms; tucked between them was a half-volume, barely clinging to a mechanism manual.

"Ah! There it is! I knew it—I have such a good memory, how could I have misremembered? I said I'd seen a similar cultivation art: Kunyuan Art, but unfortunately only half a volume remains. I wonder where the other half is."

Master Senior flipped through it carefully, glanced at the beginning, then hurried to the end, "Perfect, perfect—it's the one. Though only half a volume, few in this world can even reach this realm. No need to rush."

Master Senior shoved the volume into his robe, turned, saw the messy room, and shook his head: "Too disordered. I'll have the children clean it up tomorrow."

Then he returned to his room and went to sleep.

Meanwhile, across the courtyard, Pan Yun was also awake, reading scattered fragments about Mount Sanqing she'd retrieved from the Spirit Realm.

She had never visited Mount Sanqing in the 26th century, but knew that over a thousand years, several great wars and civilizational shifts had damaged it.

Culture had suffered a rupture, yet much could still be gleaned from its remnants—for instance: what did the mountain god of Mount Sanqing look like?

Pan Yun slowly flipped through the records. Even without the Spirit Spirit, searching keywords was merely a thought away; even without it, she could search with pinpoint precision.

But the results yielded too many mountain gods, too many forms—she didn't know which to believe, so she slowly combed through the database, seeking the most plausible image.

Pan Gong with a rooster's head and human body?

Pan Yun glanced at the black cat and sighed. Why could the mountain god never be associated with cats?

Pan Xiaohei, the night-owl cat, was already sleepy. Seeing her still hunched over, rummaging through the Spirit Realm in her mind, he asked, "Why are you searching for the mountain god of Mount Sanqing?"

Pan Yun: "Originally, Master Xuanmiao was repaying a favor. If so, then my master should be the most powerful one, the most exalted one."

"Who's the most powerful in Mount Sanqing? Of course—the mountain god! I want to be sworn siblings with Master Wang."

Pan Xiaohei: "... What's the connection? Your thoughts leap too wildly. Fine. But isn't the most exalted in Mount Sanqing the Three Pure Ones? Doesn't the mountain god answer to them?"

Pan Yun fell silent.

Seeing her quiet, Pan Xiaohei hesitated: "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Pan Yun sat up. "You didn't. I was wrong. I was too timid, too afraid to act."

"My courage could be greater. You're right—among the Three Pure Ones, which deity do you think would suit me as a master?"

Pan Xiaohei: "You… serious?" It had just been a casual remark.

But Pan Yun was serious. She began considering her own situation: "In my original timeline, civilization reached the 26th century—far ahead of this era. I feel I'm well-matched with Lord Lingbao Tianzun. What do you think?"

The black cat lay still, silent.

Pan Yun quickly abandoned the idea herself: "Forget it. All Daoists revere the Three Pure Ones—they're all their followers. Choosing one of them wouldn't just lack believers—it'd disrupt the market. The mountain god is perfect."

The black cat lifted its head.

Remembering how Tao Ji's song had triggered their strange encounter that day, Pan Yun grew even more certain: "Our mountain god sounds kind-hearted and fond of entertainment—perfect for me. After I become his disciple, I'll sing to him every single day."

The black cat shuddered slightly and said, "As long as you're happy."

Pan Yun set aside her thoughts, closed her eyes, and imagined the mountain god's form in her mind.

A gentle breeze stirred the talisman pouches hanging under the corridor, and brushed through Pan Xiaohei's fur—but no one noticed, and the cat didn't sense it.

As soon as Pan Yun grew still, both girl and cat fell asleep quickly.

Perhaps because she'd thought too much before sleep, Pan Yun dreamed all night of a man clad in armor, wielding a massive sword, watching her with a half-smile.

He looked decent enough—but far too tall. In the dream, Pan Yun felt tiny and short, crushed by his towering height.

Pan Yun was displeased. In the dream, a table appeared not far away. She dragged it over, climbed onto it, and stared the armored man down eye-to-eye all night.

Until dawn, when the dream figure turned into a crane and flew away—only then did Pan Yun wake.

She sat up on the bed, dazed, staring blankly. The dream faded slowly; all she remembered now was a vague shadow.

She frowned and asked the black cat: "Pan Xiaohei, do gods truly exist in this world?"

Pan Xiaohei: "Ghosts and gods are always mentioned together. You've seen ghosts—why ask if gods exist?"

Pan Yun: "But in my past life, ghosts existed—yet I never saw a god."

Pan Xiaohei sneered: "That's why your cultivation arts struggle to advance—you rely on divine power, yet refuse to believe gods exist above you."

Pan Yun asked: "Did the one who created and owned you become a god?"

Pan Yun pulled back the quilt and got out of bed, "Nothing much, I just wanted to know if there was any way to pull strings or something—since you didn't mention it, it's probably not worked out."

Pan Yun threw off the covers and got out of bed. "Nothing. Just wondering if I could get a favor. Since you won't say, I suppose he didn't become a god."

Pan Yun had already made up her mind; she wouldn't dwell on her past life—what mattered was the present.

Pan Yun had already made up her mind. She let go of her past life—what mattered was now.

In the next room, Miaohe opened her door, stretched, and stepped out; seeing Pan Yun, she dropped her arms and skipped over, "Sister, you're awake! Come on, I'll take you to wash up."

From the adjacent room, Miao He opened her door, stretched, and stepped out. Seeing Pan Yun, she dropped her arms and skipped over. "Sister, you're awake? Come on, I'll take you to wash up."

As Pan Yun nodded, the door across from them opened too. A girl, half a head taller than them, stepped out. She paused upon seeing Pan Yun, then stepped forward, bowing formally like an adult: "Sister Pan, this humble Daoist is Miao Zhen."

Why call her sister?

But it didn't matter—soon she wouldn't be.

Pan Yun bowed back: "Daoist Miao Zhen, I am Pan Yun—I haven't formally joined Mount Sanqing yet."

Miao Zhen's face remained serious. "Since you've come, you'll join eventually. Calling you sister now or later makes no difference."

Miao He watched, stunned, delighted. She immediately squeezed in: "Me too!"

She bowed to Pan Yun first: "Sister Pan, this humble Daoist is Miao He."

Then, grinning, he bowed to Seeing Miao Zhen. "Fourth Sister, this humble Taoist is Miaohe."

Pan Yun: …

Seeing Miao Zhen: …

Pan Yun returned the bow; Seeing Miao Zhen looked helplessly at him, then returned the bow as Miaohe awaited it.

When she came to her senses, she realized Master Xuanmiao had been standing by the main door, watching for some time.

Seeing the three turn toward her to bow, she scowled and waved them off. "Go wash up!"

Seeing Miao Zhen and Miaohe each seized one of Pan Yun's arms and sprinted off. "Hurry, hurry, morning cultivation starts now!"

Under their lead, Pan Yun washed her face and brushed her teeth; after drying off, they headed forward.

Both carried a reed mat and tossed one to Pan Yun as well.

They brought the mats to the open ground before the Three Pure Ones Hall, where Tao Ji and a boy were already practicing fist forms.

Their movements were slow, yet each punch carried a qi current.

Miaohe set down her mat. "Today we practice the Twelve Great Forces. Pan Sister, can you do them?"

Pan Yun: "I know the Eight Pieces of Brocade, the Five Animals Play, and Tai Chi Fist."

"Oh, those are also practiced—later we'll train the Circulation of the Celestial Cycle."

Tao Ji slowly ended his stance, turned to Pan Yun, and smiled broadly. "Pan Niece, you're awake? Come, I'll teach you the Twelve Great Forces—they'll be used in every morning practice."

Pan Yun did not argue over the title; she stepped forward to learn from him.

After finishing the fist forms and regulating her breath, they would train the Circulation of the Celestial Cycle, which required sitting on the reed mat.

Pan Yun's Circulation of the Celestial Cycle differed from theirs; remembering their remarks that her cultivation method was flawed, she dared not activate it, instead only regulating her breath and entering stillness—another way to increase her cultivation.

Cultivation methods, at their start, are simply stillness, differing only in breathing techniques.

No matter how many times he saw it, Tao Ji was still awed by how swiftly she entered stillness.

After inwardly marveling at her talent, he closed his eyes, regulated his breath, and entered stillness to train the Circulation of the Celestial Cycle.

When they all awoke from stillness and opened their eyes simultaneously, they saw their senior brother standing nearby swinging his arms.

Wang Feiyin swung his arms while turning back to them. "Awake? Go make breakfast. Pan Yun, stay."

Everyone dispersed; before leaving, Tao Ji gave her a subtly triumphant glance—now that they met again, he could call her "Niece" more openly.

Wang Feiyin did not mention the title issue first; instead, he pulled out the half-scroll of cultivation method he'd found last night. "This is the Kunyuan Method. Don't be fooled by its being only half—completing it won't be easy. Look—doesn't it resemble the method you practiced before?"

Pan Yun flipped to the first level of the method. After a long while, she nodded solemnly. "Yes, the latter half-forms have been modified… because the meridians and acupoints in the latter half differ, so my method was flawed?"

Wang Feiyin thought for a moment. "Not just that. Dao cultivators cultivate Qi. You call it spiritual energy—that's acceptable—but 'Yuan Qi' is more accurate."

Today's lucky number is any number ending in 0—screenshot as proof. Deadline: before the next chapter update.

(End of Chapter)