Chapter Twenty: The Rain in the Temple Grounds

Wooden fish—a fish-shaped percussion instrument hollowed out from wood, which, when struck, produces sound... Today, it is used by Buddhist clergy to accompany their chanting and recitations.
—Wang Zhe of the Ming Dynasty, Compendium of the Three Powers

The man in the blue robe seemed to have heard the sound of the wooden fish at the same moment. From his eyes, Shen Lian caught a glimpse of something complicated. It was not that Shen Lian could read emotions from those eyes, but rather that the man’s gaze naturally conveyed a tangled feeling.

“You ask me why, so I’ll tell you why. It’s simply because I am about to fight to the death with someone, and I don’t want my lifetime of learning to go to waste,” said the man in blue, his words cold and detached. “Originally, I meant to pass it on to that boy, but alas, he wasn’t destined for it.”

“The one you’re to fight to the death—is it the person striking the wooden fish?” Shen Lian asked, puzzled. Though the wooden fish was mostly used by Buddhists, it actually originated in Daoism. Thus, Shen Lian could not be certain whether the one striking it was a Buddhist or a Daoist.

“You can hear the Soul-Fixing Tone of ‘Taiwei’, which proves your spiritual acuity—truly rare in this world. Others would not be able to hear it,” the blue-robed man said, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. Clearly, Shen Lian’s abilities had surpassed his expectations.

“Ling Chongxiao, oh Ling Chongxiao, no matter how formidable you are, could you ever find a prodigy like Shen Lian?”

The mention of Ling Chongxiao piqued Shen Lian’s curiosity. Given the man’s arrogance, for him to praise another was almost unthinkable. Who was this Ling Chongxiao, that he lingered so in the man’s thoughts? Could he be the one person the blue-robed man had mentioned—the only one he kept in his heart, the only one he truly hated?

Though he had his doubts, Shen Lian sensed that this was highly probable.

Suddenly, the man’s robe billowed as if inflated, undulating like the waves. A storm of energy surged within the chamber, nearly sweeping Shen Lian off his feet.

A series of crackling sounds, like beans bursting in a pot, filled the air for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.

They were in the deepest cell of the prison, shrouded in darkness and silence; thus, no one outside was disturbed.

The oil lamp flickered madly in the turbulent wind, nearly going out. But just as it was about to extinguish, the roar ceased abruptly. Shen Lian saw the man’s shackles—those forged of hard steel—shatter inch by inch and clatter to the floor.

Such craftsmanship, so easily broken—the man’s martial prowess was truly unfathomable, beyond human capability.

Yet the iron hooks through his shoulder blades he did not dislodge, nor did he attempt to remove them. They pierced beneath his scapula, a sight enough to chill the blood.

The blue-robed man showed no pride at having freed himself, only a glint of icy coldness in his gaze as he looked across the distance.

Shen Lian instinctively moved to defend himself. With a flash of white, a flying dagger appeared in the man’s shoulder. But with a slight shrug, he popped it free from his flesh, and it clattered to the ground.

He stopped before Shen Lian, somewhat surprised. “Good lad. There are fewer than three kinds of hidden weapons in the martial world that can wound me. Your skill with the flying knife is enough to keep you safe—so I can rest easy. Only, you’d best hope I fall in today’s battle. Otherwise, because of this wound, you’ll suffer for it.”

With a hearty laugh, his voice booming like a dragon’s roar, the man sealed Shen Lian’s acupoints and whisked him away from the cell with lightning speed.

His martial arts had reached new heights in the past month. Though he was not yet an immortal on earth, he was vastly changed from before. Previously, though already a formidable figure in the martial world, he was not necessarily superior to the likes of King Golden Blade. Only with the formidable Might-Extinguishing Sword could he dominate.

Now, his inner energy had broken through the mysterious threshold; mountain and water had ceased to be mere mountain and water. He had entered the path—gradually able to forgo food and drink, untouched by the world’s dust.

Otherwise, after a month without sustenance, not only would he not have survived, but his strength would not have increased so markedly.

Cultivating inner energy requires opening the Eight Extraordinary Meridians in sequence, the most difficult being the Ren and Du meridians.

That day, when he was surrounded by government troops and the major experts of the Green Bamboo Society and King Golden Blade, he was captured alive, unable even to protect the beggar boy.

It was that brush with death—defeated though undefeated—that, in the aftermath, awakened him in his cell. The veil was lifted, and he reached a new realm in his martial arts.

He managed to open the crucial Meeting of Yin acupoint, linking it to the Long Strong acupoint. Though close in proximity, the former belongs to the Ren meridian, the latter to the Du; in truth, they are unrelated. Once connected, however, his inner energy could circulate endlessly.

Had his shoulder blades not been pierced and his energy dispersed, he could have broken free that very day.

As for the later waves of reckless outlaws who sought the Might-Extinguishing Sword, they were all dealt with by his sword’s arcane arts. They never realized that the sword’s power was unrelated to inner energy and died without knowing how.

If they were to reincarnate, they would only return as fools.

Yet, these pests had disturbed him, and the Might-Extinguishing Sword’s power is such that it harms oneself as much as it harms the enemy. His spirit was injured; if not for Ling Chongxiao soothing his soul by striking the ‘Taiwei’ for half a month, the blue-robed man had no idea when he could have escaped.

Ling Chongxiao’s wooden fish, also called ‘Taiwei’, was a treasured relic of his sect, possessing the power to calm and anchor the spirit, making up for the deficiencies of the Might-Extinguishing Sword.

But because the sword attacks the soul, it is considered against the natural order. His sect forbade its cultivation, and if it must be passed on, only to the most upright and resolute.

Otherwise, every use of the Might-Extinguishing Sword damages the wielder’s spirit. Use it too often, and it can take months or even half a year of recuperation to recover.

Thus, though the Might-Extinguishing Sword was famed, the blue-robed man had only wielded it a handful of times.

He knew Ling Chongxiao’s principles. Once this man decided to kill, he would not do so unless his foe was at their peak, never taking advantage of their weakness.

Carried by the blue-robed man, Shen Lian felt the wind whistle past his ears, as if he were flying through clouds and mist.

In a moment, they left the prison behind. The blue-robed man did not pause, but pressed onward. Shen Lian saw a shadow flash across a rooftop ahead.

The sound of the wooden fish ceased, replaced by a series of obscure, ancient syllables. The text was only one hundred and eight words long; with Shen Lian’s memory, it should have posed no problem. Yet, as he committed it to memory, his head began to ache; it was as if a divine sword had split his mind, sending cold sweat pouring down his face.

Only then did he notice—the blue-robed man had come to a halt. Before them stood an ancient monastery, veiled in twilight rain, the world shrouded in a misty haze.

He recognized the location: the highest peak south of Qingzhou Prefecture, at least twenty li from the prison.

He could feel the circulation of his blood and energy, and reckoned that only a quarter of an hour had passed.

He also recognized the monastery—it was the renowned Kalan Temple outside Qingzhou.

PS: Thanks to Longke for the reward.