Chapter 551

Three portions of merit stone: one smaller, two equal.

The smaller portion is to be refined into the Spirit Realm; added to the last one I refined, it will match the portion meant for her body and her Dharma Body.

Pan Xiaohei, seeing her melt the merit stone, asked in confusion: "We are one entity—what difference does it make whether I refine it onto myself or onto you? Why split off a separate portion to refine onto you?"

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Pan Yun answered honestly: "I don't know."

Pan Xiaohei exclaimed: "You don't know?"

"What's it called?" Pan Yun glanced at it. "I spent a month scouring texts and thinking—my intuition tells me this method will work."

Though I don't yet understand the principle, I vaguely know this is right, so I'll do it this way for now."

Pan Xiaohei: "But what if it doesn't work?"

Pan Yun glanced at it: "If it doesn't work, think again!"

But in fact, Pan Yun's method proved viable.

The three portions of merit stone were each refined: one fused onto Pan Gong's Dharma Body, one onto her own body, and one into the Spirit Realm.

As the final portion merged, Pan Yun sensed a hidden force obscuring the heavenly destiny of her body—and through her, concealing the golden merit light of the Spirit Realm.

Pan Yun immediately turned to Pan Xiaohei, eyes bright: "How is it? How is it? How do I look to you now?"

Pan Xiaohei had already risen, limbs slightly bent: "You—you look like an ordinary person. Even more ordinary than an ordinary person."

Pan Yun's lips curled upward.

Pan Xiaohei squinted slightly: "It's so powerful…"

Pan Yun, still basking in triumph, snapped at it: "What do you mean?"

Pan Xiaohei: "Concealing heavenly destiny isn't something just any person or deity can do."

Pan Xiaohei paced inside the room, solemnly: "You must go see your senior brother. Is this concealment beyond even his ability to perceive—or does it only hide certain things?"

Pan Yun thought this made sense: know yourself, know your enemy, and you'll win every battle—first, know yourself!

Pan Yun ran to find Wang Feiyin.

Wang Feiyin was kneading dough, preparing dinner.

Hearing her question, he washed his hands, opened his Heavenly Eye to examine her, then said: "Even after opening the Heavenly Eye, I can still see you're a child of great fortune. Don't worry. There aren't many people in the world as powerful as I am—you're unlikely to meet another. And even if you do, the elder masters won't necessarily oppose you. From now on, you can travel the world without fear."

Pan Yun beamed: "I still need to learn to control it—make it easy to activate and suppress."

Wang Feiyin: "Why would you ever suppress it?"

"It's useful for certain tasks," Pan Yun grinned. "Senior brother, isn't it precisely because my merit is visibly radiant that people trust me more easily?"

Wang Feiyin: "... Take it easy."

Pan Yun nodded vigorously: "I know, I know—I'll suppress it most of the time. I'll earn trust through my own abilities. Only if I lack the strength to reach my goal will I take this shortcut."

Pan Yun was never a rigid person.

Wang Feiyin waved her off: "Enough, enough. First carry your master's Dharma Body down before you ponder further. You've been in seclusion two days—aren't you hungry?"

At Wang Feiyin's question, Pan Yun suddenly felt hungry—her stomach immediately churned like a ball inside, rumbling loudly.

Pan Yun glanced at the dough Wang Feiyin was kneading, then dashed to the herb room: "I'll take the Dharma Body down—Senior brother, I want a whole huge bowl of noodles!"

Wang Feiyin didn't look up, just waved her off.

Pan Yun swiftly covered the Dharma Body with red cloth, grabbed its legs, slung it onto her shoulder, and ran straight down the mountain.

Whether because she carried the Dharma Body—or because Pan Gong was pleased that his young disciple refined merit stone for him and shared the merit—this time she descended the mountain with astonishing speed, zipping down in less than fifteen minutes.

The Mountain God Temple was still locked. Whether it had rained during the night, the steps were damp.

Pan Yun simply didn't set down the Dharma Body—she carried it with one hand and used the other to unlock the door.

Wang Xiaojing, returning from farm work, stood frozen on the roadside, hoe on shoulder, staring at her.

Pan Yun fumbled twice with the key, then snapped: "Master, I'll stop locking the door from now on—whether I'm here, whether my senior brothers are here, whether anyone guards the temple, the gate stays open!"

No sooner had she spoken than—click—the key slid in effortlessly. She hadn't even felt herself push hard; the lock opened by itself.

Pan Yun pushed open the door.

Pan Yun placed the statue on the altar and began adjusting its position according to the marks on the table.

Wang Xiaojing walked over, hoe on shoulder: "Not straight—move it a bit to the right."

Pan Yun turned, eyes smiling: "Wang Xiaojing, why are you home? Aren't you working?"

She turned the statue slightly—it aligned perfectly.

Wang Xiaojing set down his hoe, stood by the door, directing her: "Business is bad. After the New Year, our porcelain kiln stopped taking orders. Since it's peak farming season, I came home to help."

Pan Yun straightened the statue, clapped her hands, and asked: "Will you go back to the kiln later?"

Wang Xiaojing scratched his head, then said slowly: "I don't know. When I went to learn a craft, I thought if I mastered one skill, I'd never starve. But once I learned, I found most porcelain masters in the county couldn't stay in business—their kilns were smashed."

Pan Yun frowned: "Why?"

Wang Xiaojing shook his head: "I don't know why. But buyers vanished—half of them. Even the two-cash earthen bowls every household needs? Fewer people buy them now."

Pan Yun opened her mouth: "The bowls on our mountain? They've been used nearly ten years. Except for the one Pan Xiaohei broke, none have been damaged."

Wang Xiaojing grew even more despondent: "Master hasn't said it outright, but he's made it clear—I must find my own way out."

Unnoticed, a light drizzle began again. Pan Yun dragged over two stools and sat with him outside the door, back to the statue, listening to the soft patter of rain on the bamboo grove.

"If you leave, can your family till all the land?"

Wang Xiaojing smiled bitterly: "Just a few mu—how could we not finish?"

He sighed: "Grandpa and the others sent me and my uncle to learn crafts precisely because the land is so little."

Pan Yun lowered her gaze.

Great Ming's population has grown, and farmland has increased—but what remains in the hands of common folk is scarce.

In this mountain hollow, there are no great landlords, so no land lies fallow.

But outside, there was no shortage of land left fallow for lack of tenant farmers or laborers, or poorly cultivated.

Wang Xiaojing, lost in thought, asked: "Do you think I should rent land or take up labor work?"

Pan Yun: "What kind of labor do you want to do?"

"I still want to work in the kiln," Wang Xiaojing said, his voice dropping eight tones with inner pain: "I've heard the porcelain from Changnan Town is excellent and famous—other places' porcelain won't sell, but Changnan's sells like wildfire. I want to go there, even if I'm just a lowly worker."

Pan Yun: "What if you can't even get a worker's job, and the kiln makes you start as an apprentice?"

Wang Xiaojing: "Then I'll still accept it—as long as I get a full meal."

He said confidently: "My master said I have talent for firing porcelain. If the master craftsmen are willing to teach me, even starting as an apprentice, I can master it in three years."

He lowered his voice further: "Even if they won't teach me, I can learn by stealth."

Pan Yun burst into laughter, clapping his shoulder: "Fine ambition!"

Wang Xiaojing exhaled in relief, whispering: "I only dare say this to you—I wouldn't even tell others, not even my parents, afraid they'd say I have bad character."

After all, stealing knowledge wasn't honorable.

Pan Yun smiled: "Apprentice, apprentice—means a disciple who must learn. If your master doesn't take the initiative to teach you, it's to test your insight. So isn't it right to pay attention and understand more?"

Wang Xiaojing's eyes lit up: "Next time someone calls me a thief of knowledge, I'll reply exactly like that!"

Pan Yun: "... Then you'd better avoid your master. How much of the 'Great Proclamation' did you read that I gave you?"

Wang Xiaojing fell silent.

Pan Yun shook her head: "This won't do, brother. Let me tell you—no great master in history was illiterate or lacking in learning."

Wang Xiaojing sighed: "But I don't know many characters."

"How old are you? Start learning now," Pan Yun thought a moment. "Wait—I'll give you a copy of the 'Shuowen Jiezi' tomorrow. If you don't know a character, look it up in the dictionary. If that fails, ask someone. You don't have to write it, but you must read it, know its meaning, and grasp the book's essence."

Wang Xiaojing's heart leapt with encouragement from Pan Yun; he nodded fiercely.

Pan Yun, thoroughly satisfied, pulled a book from her sleeve: "I was going to wait until you knew more characters before giving it to you, but since you're leaving the county to seek your fortune elsewhere, I'll give it to you now."

Wang Xiaojing reached out and took it.

The cover was plain, the binding simple, stitched together with thread.

He pointed to the characters and read: "Zhong huo cihci you zhan..."

Wang Xiaojing's voice grew quieter with each word.

Pan Yun, expressionless: "... Development and Transformation of Chinese Porcelain!"

Wang Xiaojing nearly cried: "These characters are so hard to recognize!"

Pan Yun pulled out two silver ingots, took his hand, and slapped them into his palm with solemn gravity: "Since there's no work for you at your master's, stay in the village and study for a while—learn the common characters at least."

The village school was still funded by the Mountain God Temple.

Of course, the real patrons were Pan Yun... and Wang Cong.

This was the thing she was most proud of: as temple keeper, she had funded eighty percent of the school's costs under the Mountain God Temple's name, only occasionally asking her senior disciple for help when funds ran short.

Moreover, the village now had two schools: besides Fen Shui Village, a new one had been built in Lower River Village, just five li away, also funded from the temple's coffers.

Boys and girls alike, aged six to thirty, could enroll to learn to read and write.

Yes, Pan Yun had become so bold as to raise the age limit for village school enrollment to under thirty.

Of course, the oldest student currently was fourteen—older ones were probably too embarrassed.

Wang Xiaojing felt deeply embarrassed, squirming: "If I go, won't I be the oldest?"

Pan Yun: "What's the worry? We're all from the same village—everyone knows you. No one will mock you."

Wang Xiaojing:... Precisely because they're familiar, they'll mock me even more.

Pan Yun rolled up her sleeves: "Are you going or not?"

Wang Xiaojing immediately: "I'm going—I'll go in two days."

"Hm?"

Wang Xiaojing quietly corrected himself: "I'll go tomorrow."

Pan Yun: "Don't slack off, don't be shy—I'll have my senior disciple keep an eye on you."

Wang Xiaojing exhaled, gripping the book tightly, his head throbbing—he didn't know whether he'd made the right choice by stopping.

He shoved the two silver ingots back: "I don't need money."

Pan Yun pushed them back: "Even if reading costs nothing, if you're not working, how will you support your family?"

Wang Xiaojing pushed them back: "No need—my family still feeds me."

"Take it, take it. When you've learned the common characters and go out to work, you'll have some money on you."

"No, this is ten taels—my family might save this much in a year after food and expenses."

"Just hold it for your grandfather," Pan Yun said. "We're away, and only my senior disciple remains—he fasts every few days, pitifully thin. Give the money to your grandfather—he can occasionally treat my senior disciple to a meal. This is payment for his food."

"How much can Master Wang eat..."

Pan Yun gripped his hand: "Say that again?"

Wang Xiaojing thought of Wang Feiyin's appetite, opened his mouth, then swallowed his words.

In that hesitation, Pan Yun pressed the silver ingots firmly into his palm: "Stop pushing them back and forth—I'm embarrassed. When I'm embarrassed, I feel like hitting something."

Wang Xiaojing flashed back to her single-handedly carrying the statue.

He silently glanced back at the Mountain God statue, its eyes lowered in compassionate gaze, and dared not refuse again.

He had watched this statue being fired—when it entered the temple, it took four strong men to carry it.

He didn't want to test Pan Yun's strength.

Wang Xiaojing tucked the silver into his robe and stood: "Then come home with me now."

"Why?"

"To serve you and Master Wang some food."

"No need, my senior brother is cooking noodles for me." Only then did Pan Yun remember that Wang Feiyin was cooking noodles for her.

She jumped up and tried to run up the mountain, but Wang Xiaojing grabbed her and pulled her firmly back home.

The Wang family was also preparing their evening meal. After hearing Wang Xiaojing's words, before he could even pull out the silver from his arms, Old Man Wang opened the cabinet, took out a large bowl, and smiled warmly, saying, "I didn't know you'd returned—I thought your senior brother wouldn't come down until tomorrow, so I planned to take it up to him tomorrow."

He handed the bowl over.

Pan Yun looked down and couldn't tear her eyes away; she swallowed hard.

Inside the bowl was a large portion of minced meat, stir-fried with shredded ginger until fragrant; the white flecks on top indicated meat that was half lean and half fat.

The rich aroma of oil filled her nose, and Pan Yun couldn't help but swallow again.

She had been in seclusion for two days, fasting for two days; she hadn't felt hungry during the fast, but now she was truly starving.

Pan Yun unconsciously took the bowl. "Thank you, Old Man Wang."

Old Man Wang's eyes crinkled with delight as he waved her off. "Go back quickly."