Song Zhu struggled to process the flood of information he’d received in one day. He’d witnessed the Respected Lord of Yin State in the Bingjiuqin’s illusion, only to hear that the same lord had been murdered in the mortal realm. Now, judging by the Dragon Lord’s spiritual message, a gathering was to be held to discuss this matter.
He had only heard that Nan Fangzhu had gone into seclusion some twenty years ago. Why did the Dragon Lord immediately believe the news of her death?
Meanwhile, the abbot of Panyin Temple, who had been forced to play Nan Yi in the illusion, regained his freedom. After a moment to collect himself, he regarded Ji Yang with caution, though not anger.
“Our temple has always avoided worldly conflicts. I fear we cannot involve ourselves in the matter you’ve uncovered today.”
Ji Yang replied, “I’ve come from the mortal realm to investigate Nan Fangzhu’s murder. While today’s vision from Bingjiuqin revealed some clues, its former owner was too meticulous to disclose more details. I return it now and ask for your understanding.”
He presented Bingjiuqin to the abbot, but after a moment’s hesitation, the abbot didn’t accept it.
“This…”
The murder of Yin State’s ruler was too significant for the small Panyin Temple to handle. The once-prized Bingjiuqin had become a hot potato. Worse still, he couldn’t rebuke the troublemaker, given that even Chen State’s Dragon Lord wanted to meet him in three months.
Sensing the abbot’s dilemma, Nanyan offered a compromise: “Abbot, don’t worry. If you’re willing, I can oversee Ji Yang on your behalf. We’ll borrow Bingjiuqin temporarily to investigate this matter. Once finished, we’ll return it promptly.”
Bingjiuqin had been left at Panyin Temple to find a new owner; anyone who could play it was allowed to take it.
By proposing to supervise Ji Yang on behalf of Mao State, Nanyan helped the abbot save face. He responded, “Given the gravity of the situation and Mao State’s close ties with Yin State, we should assist. Zhenyuan, as my direct disciple, I entrust this task to you. May this turmoil be resolved swiftly.”
Nanyan glanced at Ji Yang, who smiled back. Inwardly, she was in turmoil.
Ji Yang had been ruthless. They both knew Panyin Temple wouldn’t let an outsider take Bingjiuqin just because he could play it. So Ji Yang deliberately escalated the situation until neither Panyin Temple nor Wei State’s prince could afford to ignore it. Now, the temple would be eager for them to take the zither away.
Sometimes, his thoughts defied conventional logic.
After bidding farewell to the abbot, Nanyan turned to find Mu Zhanting, but he had vanished. Only Song Zhu remained, looking at her with unspoken words.
“Does the prince have something to say?” she asked.
Song Zhu frowned, then said, “My master is currently in seclusion at Wei State’s Sword Burial Cave. Though his spiritual message was spontaneous, he may not know all the details.”
Recognizing Song Zhu’s astuteness, quite unlike her brother, Nanyan cautiously replied, “And so?”
“Given the gravity of this matter, I must report today’s events to my master in person,” Song Zhu explained, torn between his desire to get closer to Master Zhenyuan and the urgency of the situation. “We’ll have to part for now, but I’ll seek you out at the meeting in Chen State three months from now.”
“To do what?” Nanyan asked.
“To have tea,” he replied.
As Song Zhu left, he cast a final, lingering look at Ji Yang, feeling a sense of familiarity.
Nanyan shuddered, wondering if he had seen through her and Shaocang’s act.
Ji Yang approached, leaning in to ask, “Why are you staring at him so intently, A-Yan?”
Nanyan replied, “His cunning and wisdom likely surpass ours.”
Ji Yang asked, “What makes you say that?”
“Before him, I feel as though all my thoughts are laid bare,” Nanyan explained. “If my brother becomes prince, someone with such intelligence would be a formidable rival.”
Ji Yang, who had encountered Song Zhu during the prince selection years ago, chose not to disclose his knowledge of Song Zhu’s character, seeing Nanyan’s cautious expression.
“By the way, where’s my brother?” Nanyan asked.
Initially delighted to see Mu Zhanting, Nanyan was taken aback by his hostile “thieving nun” comments. After calming down, she decided to clarify things. Using her spiritual sense, she finally detected Mu Zhanting’s aura near a wall.
They approached stealthily, only to find Mu Zhanting burning incense from a basket he’d found, muttering to himself.
“Nanyan’s mother, seeing you manifest today was hard for me too. All these years, I’ve been in Chen State but my heart remained in the mortal world. I occasionally sent people to inquire about Nanyan’s whereabouts, even drawing a picture for them to use…”
He produced a hand-drawn “Thousand-Mile Sister Search” map. The girl in the picture was robust, with feet suspiciously resembling pig’s trotters.
Nanyan: “…”
Nanyan: “Shaocang, give me the Huangquan Mirror.”
The mirror could only be used once daily; a second use would render it an ordinary mirror.
Confused by Mu Zhanting’s logic, Ji Yang handed the mirror to Nanyan. She gazed at her reflection in the blurry surface, revealing an ethereally beautiful face. Expressionless, she said:
“Did he forget that people grow up?” With such a ridiculous drawing, how could anyone possibly find her?
Ji Yang smiled silently, which irritated Nanyan. She grabbed Mu Zhanting and snapped, “Stop burning incense! Can’t you see who I am?”
Mu Zhanting replied, “You’re a thieving nun.”
The exasperated Nanyan retorted, “I’m your grandfather!”
Mu Zhanting: “How dare you speak so disrespectfully?”
Ji Yang watched their polite bickering nostalgically. As Mu Zhanting felt a sense of déjà vu, Ji Yang finally explained.
“She often said that when you two competed in copying characters, she wrote better, but you copied faster. You always wrote the ‘yong’ character in seven strokes. I wonder if your handwriting has improved?”
Mu Zhanting had an epiphany. He stared at Nanyan in disbelief, then asked, “You’re Nanyan? Have you been body-snatched—”
Nanyan interrupted: “No body-snatching here. Even the birthmark on my foot is in the same place. Want me to kick you so you can check?”
She wondered why everyone except Shaocang asked her the same question.
Mu Zhanting stepped back, eyeing her suspiciously. “Is it you, Nanyan?”
Nanyan sighed, “Has no one considered that I might have shed weight through diligent cultivation?”
Mu Zhanting: “How could you possibly give up food? Have you forgotten about braised pork trotters, red-braised pork, and sauced pork knuckles?”
Nanyan replied serenely, “Amitabha. This little sister has now embraced Buddhism. My body and mind are pure; worldly desires no longer tempt me.”
Mu Zhanting’s gaze shifted to her smooth black hair. “Is your hair real? What if I pull it and reveal a bald head?”
Nanyan: “…You’re beyond saving. This poor nun will have to enlighten you today.”
Meanwhile, a hundred miles away on a hilltop, a massive spiritual energy had been swirling from dawn to dusk.
Low-level Buddhist cultivators passing by at the foot of the hill noticed this energy. Guessing that a cultivator was advancing, they stopped to meditate about ten miles away.
As night fell and a crescent moon rose, the meditating monks saw a white-robed figure ascend the hilltop. The figure’s flowing hair gave the impression of a celestial maiden.
The monks wondered why this female Bodhisattva chose to advance under the moon rather than in a cave.
As the figure gazed at the moon, purple light emanated from her body. Illusory flowers and landscapes appeared while clouds gathered in the sky, leaving only the clear moon visible. Suddenly, the moonlight converged on her.
“How strange,” the monks mused. “Most cultivators sit motionless in caves to advance, yet this Bodhisattva draws in the moon and clouds, creating such unusual phenomena.”
Suddenly, the low-level monks sensed several powerful presences approaching. Core Formation cultivators from other realms arrived, their spiritual senses probing indiscriminately.
“We thought some treasure had appeared, but it’s just a Foundation Building cultivator advancing to Core Formation,” one said excitedly. “That demonic aura… could it be a shapeshifting demon cultivator?”
“Demon cultivator or beast, they’re all the same,” another replied. “We’ll extract its true blood and core, then brand it as a demonic pet.”
“But there seem to be Buddhist fetters around it. I wonder if it belongs to someone.”
“Mere Foundation Building fetters. We’ll erase them easily. I could use one anyway.”
Hearing the Core Formation cultivators discuss the “female Bodhisattva” as a demon cultivator, the monks hesitated but still spoke up:
“Respected seniors, Mao State is the Buddhist holy land. Buddha watches over us. Please refrain from killing.”
The Core Formation cultivators, feeling superior to mere Qi Condensation monks, sneered, “Heaven creates all things for the capable to claim. When you reach Core Formation, you’ll have the right to comment!”
They flew towards the hilltop, readying spells to attack the demon cultivator.
They assumed the demon would be vulnerable during advancement, but as they approached within a hundred paces, they sensed something amiss. Looking up, their faces turned ashen.
“How can there be a Heavenly Tribulation for mere Core Formation?!”
It was too late to retreat. The clouds above swirled, and blue lightning snaked through them before striking down. Though aimed at Yin Ya, the Core Formation cultivators were too close. They scattered, but the nearest one, unable to defend in time, was instantly incinerated.
The others used blood escape techniques, but only one managed to flee. Looking back, he saw a seven-tailed fox spirit materializing behind Yin Ya amidst a flashing blue light.
“That’s…”
As the cultivator glanced back, the fox’s eyes seemed to bore into him. A powerful suction threatened to draw out his soul.
Just as his spirit was about to leave his body, the Buddhist fetters around Yin Ya suddenly lit up. Though weak, they successfully roused Yin Ya from his post-tribulation daze.
The Core Formation cultivator regained his senses and fled in terror.
Yin Ya slowly opened his eyes. The surging demonic power within him confirmed his advancement. His core gleamed like amethyst, and his spiritual sense could now reach five miles. His demonic body, tempered by both Mao State’s Buddhist energy and the tribulation lightning, now rivaled the defensive prowess of elephant demons at the same level.
Yin Ya surveyed his surroundings, then flew down from the hilltop. Passing two piles of ashes—the remains of the incinerated cultivators—he wrinkled his nose in disgust before gliding towards the dumbstruck Qi Condensation monk.
“Hey, little baldy, do me a favor,” Yin Ya said, landing before him with a grim expression.
The celestial maiden had turned into a fox spirit. The monk shrank back, assuming the demon wanted to pursue the escaped Core Formation cultivator. Resigned to his fate, he said, “Buddha teaches compassion. This humble monk… won’t reveal his whereabouts. Please don’t commit murder, benefactor.”
…What is this little baldy talking about?
Yin Ya gave him an odd look, then pulled out a large mirror from his storage bag and thrust it into the monk’s arms. “Hold this.”
The bewildered monk complied. Yin Ya then removed his outer robe, sung by heavenly lightning, and produced a pair of scissors. He meticulously trimmed his tangled hair ends for an hour and a half before being satisfied.
“Hey, does your nearby Panyin Temple have a bathing spring? Or is there one nearby?”
The monk was stunned—shouldn’t demon cultivators stabilize their realm after advancement? Why focus on grooming? Since when did cultivation require such fastidiousness?
Trembling, the young monk replied, “Panyin Temple doesn’t have one, but there’s a Prajna Hot Spring for visitors about two hundred miles northeast towards Yin State. But sir, can’t cultivators just use the Purifying Clothes spell?”
While most cultivators maintain cleanliness with spells, Yin Ya firmly refused.
“No, spells don’t clean thoroughly enough. The Prajna Spring, you say? Thank you.”
A meticulous cultivator refuses magical grooming.
After his advancement, Yin Ya felt refreshed. As he approached Panyin Temple, he saw a crowd gathered at the entrance, observing the commotion inside.
Concealing his demonic aura, he approached and asked, “Fellow Daoist, I came to pay respects at the temple. What’s happening inside?”
A Chen State cultivator replied, perplexed, “We’re not sure. We just saw the prince being beaten against a wall by that fake Core Formation female cultivator, and she won’t let us intervene… Wait, aren’t you—”
The cultivators outside the temple turned to stare at Yin Ya.
Yin Ya: ??
“He’s the one who took the Huangquan Mirror from Linglong Capital! Catch him!”