86: Breaking the Technique

The evening light was dim. Su Ming dragged his leaden legs, a chill permeating his body, back to the Small Courtyard behind the County School. The sound of carriages on the main road gradually faded, and the courtyard wall, like a blurry boundary, completely separated him from the eerie, ruined temple he had visited during the day.

He pushed open the courtyard door, then quickly closed and bolted it. The wooden bolt clicked softly, exceptionally clear in the silence. His nerves, taut all day, finally relaxed a little at this moment—as if this bolt could truly lock something away, locking away the bone-chilling cold, the endless strangeness, and the damp, fishy smell smell of decay from the ruined temple.

The ancient well in the courtyard emitted faint wisps of white mist, and the surroundings were excessively quiet. This stillness was completely different from the dead silence of a few hours ago; it carried the warmth of human presence, a familiar sense of security, which was exactly what Su Ming yearned for at this moment.

He walked to the well, not rushing to draw water, but just standing there, inhaling deep breaths of the cold, crisp air. He seemed to want to expel all the lingering nauseating smells from his lungs and replace them with the breath of a living person.

The oil lamp was lit, dispelling the darkness in the room. He carefully placed the items he had risked his life for on the table. They lay quietly, yet felt heavy—they were hope, or so he thought.

A small cloth pouch, palm-sized, covered in cracks, dull and lusterless.

A Jade Slip, equally dim, covered in spiderweb-like cracks.

And three dull, grey stones, so ordinary they looked like they could have been picked up by the roadside.

These were the “Immortal Fates” he had risked his life to bring out of the ruined temple.

Su Ming first picked up the cloth pouch. It felt like touching a piece of rotten wood weathered for a hundred years, rough to the touch, with tiny fibers rubbing off on his fingertips. He tried to draw the faint wisp of Qi in his Dantian and slowly send it towards the mouth of the pouch.

But that wisp of Qi was like a clay ox entering the sea, making no movement at all. The places on the pouch mouth that should have been rune Restrictions now only had blurred, faded etchings, completely devoid of spirituality, as if they had been completely worn away by time and some force. He could even see a distorted mark on it, like a flame or flowing clouds, but it too had long lost its vibrancy, leaving only a broken outline.

“Tsk.” Lin Yu’s voice echoed faintly, “Don’t bother, Disciple. This thing is just a low-grade Storage Pouch. Its spiritual power is exhausted, and its Restrictions are waste. Now, if you use it to hold copper coins, the bottom will leak, let alone Spirit Medicine or Magic Treasures.”

Su Ming’s mouth twitched. He gently placed the “leaky purse” on the corner of the table, his little bit of expectation falling flat.

He picked up another grey-white stone. The stone felt cold and rough in his hand, without the warmth of jade, more like a common pebble picked up from a riverbank. He once again circulated his Cultivation Technique, concentrating his mind, trying to draw a trace of Spiritual Qi from it.

As a result, the stone remained just a stone, without light or heat. His Qi circulated idly in his Meridians for a round, then returned to his Dantian disheartened, having gained nothing.

“Well, there you have it, standard waste Spirit Stone. The Spiritual Qi is completely gone, cleaner than a dog-licked plate.” Lin Yu’s voice was full of disdain, as if he had seen something dirty. “Disciple, this thing is even more useless than a roadside stone. A stone at least doesn’t lie to you. These three broken stones are utterly useless.”

Su Ming silently pushed the three stones to the corner of the table, to keep the broken cloth pouch company.

His gaze finally fell on the crack-riddled Jade Slip. His fingertips touched it; it was neither gold nor jade, slightly cool. The cracks varied in depth, silently narrating the long years and severe damage it had endured.

“Be careful! Don’t touch it with your half-baked Divine Thought!” Lin Yu’s voice suddenly became serious, with an unprecedented tension. “This thing is as brittle as a thousand-layer pastry right now! If your Divine Thought isn’t controlled well, you might completely shatter the remaining information inside! Keep it safe, absolutely safe! Wait until my Soul Power recovers a bit, then I’ll slowly tackle this tough bone!”

“Yes, Master.” Su Ming nodded solemnly, his heart tightening. He knew his Master wouldn’t joke about such matters. He found the softest piece of fine cotton cloth and carefully wrapped the Jade Slip layer after layer until he felt it was foolproof, then tucked it close to his body.

After doing all this, an extreme fatigue surged from the depths of his limbs and bones, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. He sat on the stool by the table, watching the lamp wick flicker, his own heavy, slow breathing in his ears, unmoving for a long time.

Disappointed?

Of course, a little. When those highly anticipated “Immortal Fates” turned into a pile of scrap, the disparity couldn’t be faked.

But more than that, there was a heavy sense of relief. Relief that he was still alive, still able to sit here, feeling the warmth of the oil lamp and the fatigue in his body. The experience of struggling back from the brink of death gave him a deeper understanding and appreciation for the words “being alive.”

“Disciple.” Lin Yu’s voice sounded again, with a trace of imperceptible concern.

“Disciple is here,” Su Ming replied softly.

“Are you afraid?”

Su Ming was silent for a moment, his mind flashing with the mummified corpse in the ruined temple, the eerie green light, and the malevolence of the ghost before its death. He slowly nodded: “Yes, I’m afraid.”

“It’s good to be afraid.” Lin Yu’s voice seemed to have recovered a bit of Origin Qi, carrying a certain solemnity. “Fear can constantly remind you that living is not easy, and Cultivating Immortality is even harder. Remember today’s feeling, remember that sense of powerlessness where your life is completely out of your control. This will be your greatest motivation for desperate Cultivation in the future! And it will be a wake-up call to keep you clear-headed in the face of any temptation!”

Su Ming took a deep breath, as if to inhale that fear, transforming it into determination, into an invisible force pushing him forward. He stood up and walked to the well again. Tonight, he had to use this bone-chilling well water to thoroughly wash away the gloomy Qi that seemed to have seeped into his bones, to wash away the blood, the fear, and all the discomfort of the day.

In the following days, everything outwardly returned to normal.

Su Ming still went back and forth between the school and the library every day, reading, practicing calligraphy, and meditating. He was more diligent and calm than ever before, like a sponge absorbing water, greedily devouring books. He knew that until his Master figured out the Jade Slip, all he could do was solidify his foundation as much as possible, whether it was knowledge or that faint sense of Qi, both were his capital for future Cultivation.

Lin Yu in the ring, on the other hand, had completely entered a state of “seclusion.” Most of the time, he was unusually quiet; only occasionally when Su Ming called him would a tired and irritable response come, clearly due to the massive Soul Power consumption from the Jade Slip.

All his attention was poured into that broken Jade Slip.

He tried to read it directly, but as soon as his Divine Thought probed in, he was overwhelmed by the fragmented, jumbled, and illogical Cultivation Technique information inside, making him dizzy. It felt like deciphering a coded document written in an alien language, then torn up and haphazardly glued back together; every word was recognizable, but strung together, it made no sense.

“Damn it! Which half-baked Cultivator from some second-rate Immortal Cultivation university wrote this broken Cultivation Technique? It’s utter nonsense! Disjointed! If you follow this circulation route, it’s a miracle if you don’t suffer Qi Deviation!” Lin Yu’s soul body trembled with rage in the ring, and he couldn’t help but curse.

After several failed attempts at forcing his way through, he had to change his strategy. He began to refer to the Green Wood Longevity Art, trying to compare the basic operating principles of the two Cultivation Techniques, hoping to find some common ground or possibility for repair. This was a massive undertaking, requiring him to reassemble fragmented knowledge and memory pieces, looking for faint connections.

“The stillness of earth, the growth of wood... they seem opposite, but actually generate each other? No, no... it doesn’t match here... Damn it, which Acupoint does this key point refer to? ‘Three inches below the Dantian, Qi travels through Xuanji’? What the hell is that?”

Lin Yu kept “pacing” in the ring, his soul body flickering, deeply confused. He found that his biggest obstacle was not the incompleteness of the Cultivation Technique itself, but rather the lack of precise knowledge about this world’s Cultivation system, especially the human Meridians and Acupoints.

Time quietly slipped away in this period of diligent Cultivation and arduous contemplation.

The north wind grew colder day by day. The ancient locust tree in the courtyard had long shed its leaves, leaving only gnarled branches swaying in the cold wind. In the blink of an eye, it was the twelfth lunar month, and the New Year was approaching; a festive atmosphere began to fill the air.

One day, Su Ming received a letter from home. The letter was brought by someone entrusted by his second brother, Su Yang. The letter said that everything was well at home, and after the paper-making Workshop was granted the County School’s plaque, no one dared to harass them again, and business was stable.

At the end of the letter, Su Yang wrote in his crooked handwriting that his parents had discussed it and felt that when he passed the imperial examination to become a Xiucai, the family was poor and couldn’t properly celebrate, which had wronged him. Now that the family was well-off, they planned to hold a Xiucai banquet for him and Zhao Rui during the New Year, asking him to return home early.

After reading the letter, a warm current surged through Su Ming’s heart.

He and Zhao Rui requested leave from the school director and embarked on their journey home.

The two left the County School together. On the way, Zhao Rui was noticeably more talkative, constantly mentioning the New Year’s goods his family had prepared and the new clothes his mother had made for him, his words brimming with boasts of his family’s wealth, as if afraid Su Ming didn’t know how rich his family was.

Su Ming mostly listened quietly, occasionally nodding in response, not saying much.

As soon as they reached the village entrance, the festive New Year atmosphere enveloped them. Smoke curled from the chimneys of every household, red couplets adorned the doors, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted peanuts and fried meatballs. Children, dressed in cotton-padded jackets that might not be new but were clean, chased each other with malt candy and small firecrackers, their laughter echoing non-stop.

“Su Ming is back! Zhao Rui is back too!” a sharp-eyed villager shouted, their voice filled with joy.

Immediately, many people gathered around, greeting them warmly and asking about the situation at school. Their gazes towards Su Ming, in particular, were filled with admiration and envy, as if he had a halo around him.

“Scholar Su is back!”

“The Xiucai is back!”

Su Ming politely responded to each, a gentle smile on his face. Zhao Rui also puffed out his chest, enjoying the attention of the crowd, a wide smile spreading across his face.

Returning to his familiar Small Courtyard with the wattle fence, Su Ming noticed that the courtyard seemed tidier than before, and the pile of firewood in the corner was fuller, clearly arranged by his family for him.

“Ming’er!”

Chen Shi was the first to see him, crying out with joy. She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and ran out of the kitchen, grabbing his arm and looking him up and down, her eyes a little red, filled with deep longing and tenderness.

“You’ve lost weight, you must have been too busy studying at school to eat properly!” Her words were full of heartache, her hand caressing his arm.

“No, Mother, the food at school is good, I eat two big bowls every meal,” Su Ming said with a smile, comforting her. His heart felt warm, and the warmth of home instantly dispelled all the cold.

Su Shan ambled out of the house, holding his dry tobacco pipe, his face still maintaining its serious expression. His gaze lingered on Su Ming for a moment, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod, “Hmm, it’s good that you’re back.” Su Ming was used to this unspoken care.

His eldest brother Su Feng and second brother Su Yang were in the courtyard tidying up New Year’s goods. Seeing him return, Su Yang immediately put down his work and strode over, smiling as he clapped Su Ming’s shoulder with force: “Good lad! You’re finally back! Father and Mother talk about you every day!”

Eldest brother Su Feng also smiled foolishly, his eyes reflecting the joy of brothers reuniting.

Wang Chuntao poked her head out of the kitchen, her voice bright: “Little Uncle is back? Perfect! We’ll stew big bones tonight! Mother has been talking about nourishing you! To properly drive out the cold!”

This familiar, lively, and caring atmosphere, filled with the scent of home cooking, completely relaxed Su Ming’s nerves, which had been taut for months. The warmth of home, so real and precious, was a harbor he yearned for no matter where he went.

At dinner, the dishes on the table were noticeably more abundant than in previous years, with meat and even a small pot of wine. Chen Shi continuously served him food, chattering about village affairs, the changes brought by the paper-making Workshop, how the family was now well-off, that they would have a good New Year, and that they would make up for the banquet celebrating him becoming a Xiucai.

“You and Zhao Rui will have it together. Uncle Zhao has already arranged everything. The banquet will be held in front of the ancestral hall, and the whole village will be invited!” Su Shan took a sip of wine, put down his cup, his tone carrying an unquestionable resolve. “Our family isn’t short on money now. We should have the proper occasion; we can’t let people look down on us.”

Su Ming could feel that with the family’s improved finances, his parents stood a little taller, and their words carried more confidence and assurance.

The belated Xiucai banquet was indeed a grand affair. In the open space in front of the ancestral hall, a dozen large tables were set up, and almost the entire village came. The air was filled with the aroma of meat and wine, and the lively chatter of people created a festive atmosphere.

Village Head Zhao Dequan was beaming, dressed in a respectable satin jacket, holding a wine cup, and moving between tables with a booming voice. He was the absolute center of attention, enjoying the crowd’s admiration and flattery.

“Fellow villagers, today is a joyous day for our Su Family Village! Our village has produced two Wenqu Stars at once! Come, let’s all raise a toast!”

The villagers cheered loudly, the atmosphere was lively, and the clinking of wine cups was continuous.

Su Ming and Zhao Rui, as the protagonists, stood side by side, receiving rounds of toasts and congratulations from everyone.

Zhao Rui wore a brand-new brocade robe, a triumphant smile on his face. He enjoyed being the center of attention. But when the villagers’ praises leaned more towards Su Ming, his hand holding the wine cup involuntarily tightened.

“Scholar Su is still the most impressive! He was the top scholar in the county!”

“That’s right, that’s right, Scholar Su will surely become a Successful Provincial Candidate and a Jinshi, a great official!”

“Old Brother Su, your family’s ancestral grave must be smoking green, to raise such a good son!”

Su Ming merely smiled, returning each greeting, his words humble, his demeanor calm.

Zhao Rui’s smile stiffened slightly. He leaned closer to Su Ming and whispered, “Su Ming, look at them, they’re really... vulgar.” Su Ming glanced at him but said nothing.

Su Ming glanced at him, raised his wine cup, and lightly clinked it with his, saying indifferently, “The villagers mean well, they are simple and lovely.” He said no more, draining the wine in his cup in one gulp.

In the ring, Lin Yu’s bored voice sounded, with a hint of playful mockery: “Tsk tsk, Disciple, your little friend’s heart is no bigger than a needle’s eye. This banquet isn’t about food and drink, it’s about sour vinegar. Human vanity and comparison are truly harder to overcome than Cultivation hurdles. You should take heed.”

Su Ming replied in his mind: “Master, aren’t you studying the Cultivation Technique?”

“Tired of studying, came out for some fresh air, and to watch a human comedy.” Lin Yu’s voice carried a hint of playfulness. “Tsk tsk, that roasted chicken looks good. What a pity, I can smell it but can’t eat it. This truly is the cruelest torture in the world.”

Su Ming suppressed a laugh, raised his wine cup, and drained it in front of a table of villagers who had come to toast him.

Halfway through the banquet, a cloth merchant shopkeeper who had traveled from town specifically to offer congratulations, walked up to Zhao Dequan with a wine cup and loudly complimented: “Village Head Zhao, congratulations! Nowadays, the paper from your Su Family Village is like this in our Qingshi Town!” He gave a thumbs-up, his face wreathed in smiles. “The paper quality is delicate and even, but the price… it’s a bit firmer than the paper from the south! It really makes people both love and hate it! Haha!”

Zhao Dequan’s smile remained unchanged, and he skillfully brushed it off with a laugh: “Shopkeeper Liu, you jest, you jest! It’s all thanks to the County School, thanks to everyone! Small profits but quick turnover, small profits but quick turnover!” He cleverly steered the conversation elsewhere, but Su Ming noticed a fleeting glint in the depths of his eyes.

The boisterous banquet finally dispersed when the moon rose to its zenith, amidst scattered dishes and the guests’ drunken stupor.

A few days after the New Year, Su Ming and Zhao Rui rode a ox cart back to the County School.

The Small Courtyard was still quiet, the branches of the ancient locust tree swaying gently in the cold wind, rustling softly.