Chapter 25: The Inn of Encounters

Ling Chongxiao noticed that Shen Lian’s expression had turned somewhat peculiar and asked, “What is it? Don’t tell me you’ve heard this poem before?”

“I think I might have. Wasn’t this poem written by a Daoist with the surname Wang?”

“That I’m not too sure about. At the time, our grandmaster only saw that beneath the poem, there was another line inscribed in small characters: ‘An old friend who once hid flowers is now gone, but his words remain; my heart wonders if it is like that of Ji Zi.’ The signature was simply ‘Li.’

The grandmaster mused that the poem must have been left by someone named Canghua, and the ‘Li’ who signed below must have been an old friend of Canghua’s. As for the allusion to Ji Zi, he couldn’t make sense of it at all.

While he was still pondering, he suddenly caught a whiff of a fishy wind mingled with the scent of plum blossoms. Turning around, he felt his limbs go weak—it turned out that right behind him was a white-browed tiger with glaring eyes.

They say clouds follow the dragon, and the wind follows the tiger. This beast’s eyes slanted upward, and a white pattern adorned its forehead.

It fixed its gaze on the grandmaster and, in a flash, leapt at him.

Startled, the grandmaster staggered back, but to his astonishment, the beast didn’t land on him; instead, it seemed to hang suspended in midair, as if caught by an invisible tether.

At that moment, he heard the clear, crisp voice of a child: ‘Who are you, and how did you come to this place?’

He saw the tiger gently descend to the other side, and seated on its back—he didn’t know when she had appeared—was a little girl with hair in twin topknots, holding a bamboo flute of verdant green.

She looked no more than six or seven years old, her skin almost translucent, her exposed wrist fairer than frost or snow, like the cool, clear moon on a chilly night. Yet her manner of speaking was as composed as any adult, and she held the flute as a shepherd might.

The grandmaster asked in surprise, ‘Was it you playing the flute just now?’

‘So you’re just a commoner who wandered into the mountains by mistake. Never mind, I’ll deal with you later.’

Just then, in the northwestern sky, dozens of crimson streaks raced toward them.

Within those streaks, someone’s voice rang out, cold and sinister: ‘Li Qingshui, tonight I’ll send you once more into the cycle of reincarnation.’

The little girl glanced at the red lines, then cast a cool gaze at the grandmaster. The white-browed tiger beneath her conjured a black cloud and soared toward the place where the red lines had appeared.

That night, the northwest sky was filled with the roar of things splitting the air and a myriad of shimmering colors, as dozens of crimson lines interlaced and darted.

These sounds and sights lasted until dawn, then faded away. In the plum grove where the grandmaster waited, there stood a stone hut. He waited until sunrise, but the little girl did not return. From within the hut, however, he found a painted portrait, three scripture books, and a wooden fish.

Since the little girl never returned, the grandmaster took the items from the hut and left—not toward the northwest, but southeast. No one knew how vast those mountains were; after traveling for more than ten days, he reached the southeastern shore. There, he cautiously practiced one of the methods from the scripture until he achieved some success, then fashioned a raft from logs and returned to the mainland.

At this, Ling Chongxiao smiled faintly. “Now you must know the origin of the Divine Foot Technique.”

Shen Lian said softly, “So the Divine Foot Scripture is one of those manuals? And the wooden fish—you carry it with you?”

“You’re quite right. Of the three books, one is called Jade Radiance Skill, one is Divine Foot Scripture. The two have much in common, but in terms of power, Jade Radiance Skill is more formidable. Both require high aptitude, but the key difference is that Jade Radiance Skill, though stronger, is incomplete. My fellow disciple always thought our master was partial to me, not realizing that our master knew his temperament was extreme. If he insisted on practicing the incomplete Jade Radiance Skill, he would only harm himself, which is why he was given the complete Divine Foot Scripture instead.

My own talent was a bit higher, so our master hoped I could someday perfect the art and pass it to future disciples. Over the years, I have made certain insights; relying on this art, I’ve reached the Daoist realm of ‘Subduing the White Tiger’ and preserved my youth. But to fully complete this peerless skill is beyond me.

I’ve wasted far too much time on this pursuit, so I won’t teach you Jade Radiance Skill, lest it hinder your future.

Besides, in my experience, though Jade Radiance Skill is profound, it’s essentially derived from the Divine Foot Scripture, both belonging to orthodox Daoist methods. If you can master the Divine Foot Scripture to the utmost, you may well reap great rewards and perhaps even find the path to immortality.”

As Ling Chongxiao explained all this, Shen Lian suddenly recalled that he had seen the Divine Foot Scripture before—perhaps in some version of a Jin Yong novel. He also remembered reading a book called “A Daoist Wandering the Martial World,” whose protagonist had supposedly created a martial art called Divine Foot Scripture.

Unfortunately, though he loved that novel, he had only read three volumes. He had planned to wait for it to be finished before reading the rest, but never had the chance.

He couldn’t help but wonder if there was some mysterious connection, but then again, novels are just stories. To think that his current circumstances could align with fiction would be too fantastical to believe.

After all, a novel is just a novel—what he was experiencing was a real journey in another world.

“The third scripture—could it be the Annihilating God Sword Manual?” Shen Lian asked quietly.

“Indeed,” Ling Chongxiao replied. “That sword art wields tremendous power, no longer mere martial skill, but akin to an immortal’s secret method. However, ever since the grandmaster’s time, every disciple who practiced it met a grim end. So it was forbidden in the sect. If he passed it to you, it was both to keep the art from being lost, and perhaps not out of any kindness.”

Ling Chongxiao gave a cold laugh. No one knew the man in green robes better than he did. Yet after all that had happened, Ling Chongxiao no longer cared to revive the sect’s fortunes. Since Shen Lian was fated, passing the skills to him would at least preserve the lineage.

“Destiny is not to be feared, nor the rules of ancestors,” Shen Lian replied. In his view, those who died practicing the Annihilating God Sword did so because their souls were weak. They relied too heavily on the art to defeat powerful foes, suffering grave harm to their spirits. Though one might recover, repeated use would accumulate hidden injuries, making one increasingly unstable—ultimately destroying either the world or themselves.

The temperament of the man in green was half his own nature, half perhaps the result of the Annihilating God Sword.

Shen Lian vowed to use the art only for protection, never to indulge in reckless violence or arrogance. To cultivate one’s skills, one must first cultivate the mind—if you cannot master your own heart and constantly indulge your desires, it is not the path to longevity.

For three consecutive nights, Ling Chongxiao patiently explained the major thresholds of cultivation to Shen Lian. When he was done, he left a letter and departed without saying where Shen Lian might find him again.

That morning, Shen Lian reopened the inn. There was no grand ceremony.

The old signboard had been replaced. “Tongfu Inn” was no more—the new one read “Somewhere Inn.”

On the right doorpost hung a notice: “Esteemed guests are welcome at all times.”

On the left: “This literary inn is always open.”

PS: Thanks to Cangwu Zhenren and sky_Headshot for their generous rewards.