Chapter 534: Master Zhang Wants to See You

Pan Yun's wounds were treated, and the sky was nearly dawn.

She lay quietly on the bed and told the three: "I'm fine now, go get some more sleep."

The three wanted to ask their junior master about who the first marquis was that fought her, but they knew this wasn't the time to talk, so they suppressed their curiosity and got up to leave.

As soon as the door closed, Pan Yun grimaced and shifted her body, finding the most comfortable position to lie still.

She couldn't press her back or her front shoulder—she had it tough.

Pan Xiaohei had washed and dried itself, then leapt lightly onto its nest atop the cabinet, looking down at her.

Pan Yun didn't need to turn around to feel its gaze; she grumbled, "What are you staring at? Go to sleep."

Pan Xiaohei: "You're this badly injured, and you're still cultivating?"

Indeed, though Pan Yun lay prone, she was drawing in Qi to replenish the emptiness in her Upper Dantian and meridians.

"It's precisely when the Qi in Phoenix Perch Courtyard is most dense—when else would you cultivate?" In truth, she was in too much pain to sleep; better to focus on cultivation and distract herself.

Pan Yun ignored Pan Xiaohei; though lying down, her cultivation method never ceased.

This battle drained all her Yuan energy—her Upper Dantian was emptied, her meridians left with not a trace—luckily, she'd brought spirit herbs.

The spirit herbs were still working.

No wonder it was Senior Brother's product—it instantly replenished Yuan energy and had a long-lasting effect; even now, its power was repairing her injured organs and meridians.

Pan Yun wasn't just injured in the fight—she'd also been badly hurt when she fell from midair.

Luckily, she curled up to shield her head and face, and branches broke her fall several times; though she'd been battered and covered in bruises, not a single bone was broken.

Now, as Qi entered her body and transformed into Yuan energy, it flowed through her meridians, healing those contusions…

One circuit, then another—Pan Yun didn't let the transformed Yuan energy settle into her Upper Dantian; instead, she guided it along her meridians according to her heart method.

She was only the First Marquis; though the lightning had struck her more than once, expanding her Upper Dantian slightly more than other First Marquises, her Yuan energy still wasn't enough in battle.

If she'd had just ten percent more Yuan energy in her body during this fight, she wouldn't have fallen.

Lucky this time—the branches cushioned her fall one after another; if she'd crashed straight down like Ming San and the giant bird, carving out a huge crater, she'd be dead or crippled!

Pan Yun never placed her hopes on luck.

Compared to luck, she trusted herself.

So she had to find a way to store more Yuan energy in her body—more and more.

Besides cultivating to expand her Upper Dantian, her meridians could also store Yuan energy.

The Qi entering her body was continuously refined into Yuan energy, merging with existing Yuan energy to form thick clusters.

Pan Yun guided the Qi according to her heart method; the Yuan energy clusters stretched open her meridians, burst open her acupoints, connected them, and reinforced them…

Opening acupoints wasn't painful, but expanding meridians was.

Fortunately, Pan Yun had been in pain all day from her injuries; what once felt unbearable now she endured without waking from her meditation.

Pan Xiaohei sensed something unusual and lifted its head again to look at her—she was drenched in fine sweat, brows tightly furrowed, clearly suffering.

Pan Xiaohei watched silently for a while, sensing with its body—it had already expanded two meridians, and was still expanding more—then lowered its head, curled its paws, and thought: What a freak—so injured and not resting, thinking only of cultivating!

The Qi rising from beneath Phoenix Perch Courtyard made the whole yard misty, and Pan Yun's room was the densest with spirit mist—the courtyard's mist continued surging toward her room…

The surging mist was drawn to her bedside and vanished…

Pan Xiaohei, bathed in the spirit mist, immediately tilted its little head to cultivate as well.

It couldn't be worse than her!

In the silent stillness, the breathing of the woman and the cat gradually synchronized; the spirit mist in the room rose and fell rhythmically, as if resonating with heaven and earth…

After who knew how long, the first ray of morning sunlight fell—faint, yet like a switch—the upward-rising Qi slowed, grew thinner.

The drifting mist in the courtyard was drawn into various rooms by cultivators, or slowly rose into the air and drifted out of the courtyard.

Pan Yun lay on her side on the bed, unaware of when she'd let the Yuan energy settle into her Upper Dantian, or when she'd fallen asleep.

She was awakened by the sunlight piercing her eyes.

She opened her eyes to a room flooded with sunlight, blindingly bright.

Pan Yun blinked—April in Jiangnan rarely had such radiant sunshine.

She propped herself up on her arms, glanced at her shoulder wound, raised an eyebrow—it had healed considerably.

"What time is it?"

Pan Xiaohei, who had been lying on the ground basking in the sun, lifted its head and replied: "Past the hour of Si."

Past ten—no wonder she was hungry.

Pan Yun put on a Daoist robe; her stomach growled loudly, like a rooster crowing.

Pan Yun patted her belly: "I wake up, and my intestines wake up too."

Of course—last night she fought, got injured, skipped dinner, skipped breakfast—how could she not be hungry?

Pan Yun opened the door; Miao He, who had been meditating in the courtyard, immediately opened his eyes and jumped up: "Junior Master, you're awake?"

Pan Yun nodded, went to the courtyard's water vat to wash up, and asked: "Where are Miao Zhen and the others?"

Miao He hovered around her: "They went to Tai Su Courtyard to buy herbs—we've used up the two needed for healing."

Pan Yun rotated her arms and smiled: "I feel much better—I don't need medicine."

Miao He's face turned serious: "Junior Master, you mustn't hide your illness."

Remembering the taste of last night's medicine, Pan Yun nodded: "Fine, I'll take it."

It wasn't too bitter—slightly sour, with a sweet aftertaste—much better than the tonic herbs she'd eaten since childhood.

"Do you have anything to eat?"

Miao He grinned: "I knew you'd be hungry when you woke up, but breakfast time's over and lunch hasn't started, so I boiled you some porridge early."

Pan Yun followed her to the small kitchen.

The academy forbade students from cooking privately, so each courtyard's small kitchen was really just a hot-water room.

Inside, only large pots and stoves were provided; for decocting medicine, only small stoves could be used, and the Academy's Miscellaneous Affairs Hall frequently conducted surprise inspections—any student caught cooking privately with a cooking pot would have their academic credits deducted.

But Miao He had space.

Pots, bowls, chopsticks, and ladles were essential items in everyone's space, since cooking and boiling water outside was genuinely convenient.

Since Pan Yun had prepared their spaces, Wang Cong had spent a fortune just supplying each of them with pots, bowls, chopsticks, and ladles—there was no way around it; one set per person, it was expensive!

At this moment, a pot of porridge was warming on the small kitchen stove.

Miao He quietly pulled a bowl from the nearby cabinet; inside lay a handful of chopped green onions.

She lifted the lid, dropped them in, stirred once, then ladled out a large bowl for Pan Yun.

Pan Yun reached out and took it, her face brightening: "Where did this meat come from?"

Miao He beamed: "Stolen from the cafeteria."

Pan Yun's hand froze around the spoon; she looked up: "The cafeteria? Then won't the Miscellaneous Affairs Hall know?"

Miao He: "It was just a tiny piece of meat—we paid for it. The Miscellaneous Affairs Hall wouldn't bother with something this small, would they?"

Pan Yun quickly blew on the porridge and ate it: "Hide the rest in your space. Clean all traces from the kitchen. Buying meat isn't against the rules, but this pot is—this kitchen is under Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang's control; he's surely been watching for a chance to catch us."

"Oh." Miao He immediately packed everything away.

Pan Yun squatted by the kitchen door and finished the bowl of porridge. Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang didn't come for a surprise inspection—just as Miao He was about to say she'd imagined things, the courtyard gate was shoved open and Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang stepped inside.

Pan Yun and Miao He looked up at him silently.

Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang halted, fell silent for a moment, then stepped forward: "Pan Yun, the True Person wants to see you. Come with me."

This was unexpected; Pan Yun raised an eyebrow: "Is it the Celestial Master's True Person?"

Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang snapped: "How many True Persons are there, officially appointed by the imperial court?"

Pan Yun pushed herself up slowly, bracing on her knees; Miao He looked worried and whispered: "Little Master, should we send word to Senior Master…"

Pan Yun silenced her with a glance and murmured: "You can't run to Senior Brother for every little thing. Stay here and wait for Seeing Miao Zhen and Tao Yanbai. Don't worry."

Miao He wasn't worried about anything else—she feared the True Person would ask about last night's events.

Who had Little Master killed?

The First Marquis—how many First Marquises could there be in this world?

Pan Yun passed her own room, tapped lightly on the doorframe with her finger, then followed Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang out.

Pan Xiaohei, sleeping soundly inside, lifted his head, resignedly rose, stretched lazily, and trailed behind slowly—being a cat and keeping distance, Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang never noticed they were followed by a cat.

Today was the day all students collected bedding, clothing, books, and other supplies; all registered students had arrived, so the Academy was full of people, vibrant under the spring sun.

As Pan Yun walked through the crowd with Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang, she felt the youthful vitality around her; she had a faint sense that her body greatly enjoyed this vitality—each breath seemed to draw in qi and occasional falling specks of merit light.

Pan Yun now received very little merit each day, but some still came—not like before, when it poured down like sunlight, but like sunspots: one, then another, slowly falling and drawn into her body.

Pan Yun knew this was because the gifts had been given out; the peak had passed, and only a few still remembered her daily.

But this wasn't a good thing.

Because it likely meant their lives remained miserable, so they clung to the small aid she'd given.

If so, Pan Yun would rather have no merit at all—she hoped they would soon find ways to secure food and warmth, and stop clinging to this tiny favor she'd offered.

As she pondered, Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang stopped and stepped aside: "We're here."

Pan Yun looked up and realized they had reached the Doumu Hall.

The Doumu Hall, usually bustling, was now empty—silent, and thus solemn.

Pan Yun turned to Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang: "Aren't you coming in?"

Zhang Zhu Zhu Zifang had a thousand complaints, but before the Doumu Hall door, he knew the True Person could sense them; he forced a smile: "The True Person called only you."

Pan Yun stepped inside.