Chapter 42: He

Settling into stillness, Pan Yun slowly guided the spiritual energy entering her body to merge with her own primordial qi, following the Kunyuan Scripture’s method, taking only a small segment—it did not dissipate but formed a ring, passing through the Niwan Palace before slowly descending along the meridians into her dantian.

The qi formed by the fusion of spiritual energy and primordial qi was considerably thicker; after settling in her dantian, it coated the empty space within with a thin layer.

Pan Yun grew excited and continued her cultivation…

Finally, she emerged from meditation because she was too hungry.

She opened her eyes to darkness, blinked a few times, and once her vision adjusted, saw the hazy moonlight streaming through the window—only then did she realize she had cultivated for half the day.

She quietly opened the door and crept toward the kitchen.

There was a faint light inside the kitchen.

She pushed the door open and discovered it was merely the lingering embers in the stove.

She lit a lamp, lifted the lid, and saw a stack of steam baskets: neatly arranged buns and vegetables atop, water below—because charcoal had been left smoldering in the stove, the food remained warm.

Beside it, Miaohe had left a note: the meal was prepared specially for her.

Pan Yun was deeply moved—she actually remembered to save food for her.

The night was utterly silent, the sky holding only a solitary moon; as Pan Yun finished eating and stepped out of the kitchen, she found herself unconsciously walking forward under the moonlight…

“Meow—” A piercing cat cry rang out; Pan Yun snapped back to awareness, looked down, and realized she stood at the edge of a cliff—beyond her, a dark, bottomless abyss.

Cold sweat broke out on Pan Yun’s skin; she stepped back two paces, reached out, and caught the black cat leaping up to her, her gaze alert as she scanned the surroundings.

“What is this? A ghost? Or a mountain spirit?”

A gentle breeze blew through the area, offering no reply to Pan Yun’s question; she detected nothing unusual.

Pan Yun stood still for a moment, then decided not to engage with the thing—she turned decisively and returned indoors.

She placed the black cat on the pillow and said, “Well done. Tomorrow I’ll reward you with extra spiritual energy.”

“Meow—I prefer merit.”

“When we get the chance to leave the mountain, I’ll get some for you.” Isn’t that just doing good deeds?

She was a good person—she loved doing good deeds most of all.

Because Pan Xiaohei had saved her life, Pan Yun was especially gentle with it tonight; Pan Xiaohei, emboldened, strutted proudly around the room, finally choosing the top of a cabinet as its nest.

It had long stopped wanting to sleep beside Pan Yun, but dared not say so—now it finally dared.

Pan Yun opened the cabinet and found the cloth she had just been assigned that day.

She quickly fashioned a simple bed for it, promising, “Tomorrow I’ll find clean, dry grass, bake it until it smells sweet, then lay soft cloth on top—you’ll lie on it like floating on clouds.”

“Meow—”

Just imagining it made Pan Xiaohei ecstatic.

Pan Yun picked it up, stood on a stool, placed it on top of the cabinet, and patted its head. “But tonight the bed’s still hard, so you’ll have to endure one more night—just keep watch. If any evil spirits dare disturb me, scratch them to death.”

Pan Xiaohei knew she wouldn’t offer kindness without reason—it didn’t disappoint it.

Pan Yun still felt uneasy; after thinking, she decided not to sleep at all, took out her two boxes of cinnabar, and began grinding and mixing.

But how could a child possibly stay awake all night?

Even with her intense interest, as midnight approached, her eyelids grew heavy, heavier still.

She slapped her face, closed the cinnabar boxes, hugged them to her chest, and fell asleep.

She resolved that tomorrow, after mixing the cinnabar, she’d first write ten or eight talismans to ward off evil—what ghost dared frighten her?!

Pan Yun gradually sank into sleep; the black cat slept soundly too.

Pan Yun opened her eyes, clutching the cinnabar, and saw again the imposing figure of a warrior, smiling faintly at her.

Pan Yun froze, instantly realizing she was asleep—this was a dream.

So this was… she knew she was dreaming, yet couldn’t wake up?

Pan Yun fell silent for a moment, no longer anxious, and finally studied the figure before her carefully.

If she dreamed of him once, it was merely day’s thoughts becoming night’s dreams; if twice, it was curious…

And if she knew she was dreaming yet still couldn’t wake—now that was truly curious.

Pan Yun watched him cautiously; seeing he showed no intention to speak, she ventured, “Master?”

The figure raised an eyebrow.

Pan Yun gasped, “Are you truly my Master, the Divine One?”

Pan Yun tried to bow, but realized she was clutching the cinnabar—she quickly set it down, then clasped her fists in salute. “Disciple Pan Yun pays homage to Master.”

The figure said nothing, only the faint smirk at his lips lessened slightly. Pan Yun, heart pounding, whispered carefully, “Master, you know Elder Brother gave you a new disciple—so you’ve come to give me a welcome gift?”

He: …

Before he could answer, Pan Yun waved her hands frantically. “Master, no need to be so courteous—I’m already overjoyed to be your disciple. You don’t know, everyone along the way said Mount Sanqing’s scenery is breathtaking, its spiritual energy abundant, clearly a land of boundless virtue—especially the village at its foot, long protected by the mountain deity, whose reverence for you flows like an endless river, endlessly…”

Pan Yun lavished praise upon the mountain deity until his expression softened.

She felt weary but dared not sigh—only maintained a look of worshipful devotion as she asked, “Master, did you come solely to see me, or to teach me your scripture?”

He gave her one deep look, then turned and left.

Pan Yun watched him transform into a great crane and fly away, speechless for a long while—Oh divine one, why won’t you speak?!

The next day, Pan Yun appeared with dark circles under her eyes, reverently burning incense before the statues of Sanqing, Ge Xianweng, and Li Minister—only then did she realize: where was her Master?

Their Master, the Divine One of Mount Sanqing—how could he have no tablet or statue?

Pan Yun was stunned, turned, and rushed to find her Elder Brother practicing swordplay outside.

“Elder Brother—”

!. Read

Wang Feiyin’s sword moved steadily, unhurried; he glanced at Pan Yun and continued practicing, saying between strokes, “Fifth Young Mistress, have you cultivated today? First follow Miao Zhen and the others in basic training—I’ll teach you swordplay later.”

“Cultivation can’t be achieved overnight, so this isn’t urgent—but right now, Elder Brother, why doesn’t our Sanqing Temple have a tablet for Master?”

Wang Feiyin’s sword veered off course, nearly stabbing the ground.

He ended his stance, inhaled, exhaled, steadied his breath, then asked, “Why are you thinking of this now?”

Pan Yun’s face was solemn: “I dreamed of Master last night—and this morning realized there’s no tablet for him. Could he be angry, hence appearing in my dream?”

Wang Feiyin studied her intently.

Pan Yun lifted her small face, her expression more serious than his.

Wang Feiyin explained, “Master’s temple is at the mountain’s foot, where the surrounding villagers offer worship—so we never erected a separate tablet here.”

“That won’t do,” Pan Yun said firmly. “Besides villagers’ offerings, Master deserves reverence from his disciples and descendants. How can we neglect him just because he’s capable and receives abundant incense?”

People never complain of too much money—why would a deity complain of too much incense?

Wang Feiyin found no argument; worse, he felt she was right—so why had he never erected a statue or tablet for the mountain deity back then?

Oh yes—he remembered: because of His appearance, which matched another folk legend.

He said gently, “Master may dislike showing His face.”

“Impossible,” Pan Yun said instantly. “Master is so handsome—why would He dislike showing His face?” She paused. “Well, some handsome men don’t want to be seen… Master doesn’t speak much—perhaps He’s just reserved.”

“Then we can carve a statue that resembles Him—not in exact form, but enough so everyone knows it represents Him. As long as people know it stands for Master, won’t the incense reach Him directly?”

Seeing Wang Feiyin still thinking, Pan Yun grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the back courtyard, standing at the cliff’s edge. “Elder Brother, last night Master nearly dragged me over this cliff to join Him—because when I became your disciple, I only bowed to Heaven and Earth, never to His tablet.”

Wang Feiyin’s mouth fell open. “Young Mistress, don’t joke like this—was it too dark? Did you lose your sense of direction and mistake this for the way back?”

Pan Yun pointed to the red lantern beside the side gate. “That lantern’s useless—it barely lights a foot around—but in the dark, it’s unmistakable. I can see it the moment I leave the kitchen—I wouldn’t mistake it for anything else.”

“Last night was real. I saw the moonlight and suddenly—I was at the cliff’s edge. If my beloved cat hadn’t cried out, you’d be seeing my soul today, not me.”

Wang Feiyin: …

Pan Yun concluded: “This is all because I never bowed to Master’s tablet.”

Wang Feiyin looked torn. “Could it be… Master is dissatisfied with you as a disciple?”

“Impossible,” Pan Yun said without hesitation. “I’m so talented—what Master wouldn’t want me?”

Wang Feiyin shut his mouth and waved her off. “Fine, go ahead. I’ll handle this.”

Pan Yun: “How will you handle it? Not making a tablet or statue for Master?”

Wang Feiyin didn’t answer—only told her to go play.

Pan Yun walked away, glancing back every few steps.

Wang Feiyin stood at the cliff’s edge, pondering, then took one final look before turning away.

Before noon, Wang Feiyin appeared clad in ritual robes, sword in hand, clutching a stack of talismans.

Tao Ji, returning from the alchemy room, stared in shock. “Elder Brother, what are you doing?”

Wang Feiyin waved him over. “You’re just in time—I’ll be performing a ritual offering. Assist me.”

Tao Ji: “So suddenly? Don’t you need to prepare properly?”

“I’ve already had Pan Yun and the others prepare.”

Pan Yun and the others stood silently, holding wildflowers, fresh mountain spring water, vases, incense, and candles.

They didn’t know these were for the ritual—wouldn’t it be too meager?

The lucky number for this chapter is any number ending in 3. Screenshot as proof—screenshot deadline ends before next chapter update.

(End of Chapter)