Chapter Eighteen: Gained, Yet Gainless

The first type of rune is called the "True Script of the Celestial Book." Tracing its origin, it is formed from the vital energy of the Great Brahma, manifesting as eight-sided sacred characters, each a yard tall, with radiant points at their angles. This rune embodies the residual resonance of the Great Dao, its meaning so profound that even immortals cannot fully comprehend it.

As its name suggests, the True Script of the Celestial Book is recorded within a tome known as the "Infinite Cavern Chapters in the Obscure Language of the Great Brahma." This book is said to be a natural spiritual treasure, condensed from the essence of the Dao, and exists only in legend, its whereabouts unknown.

The second type of rune is called the "Script of the Dragon and Phoenix." It was created by ancient masters of great power, inspired by the forms of dragons and phoenixes. Though its might falls short of the Celestial Book’s True Script, it can be understood by deities and buddhas, allowing them to grasp its mysteries.

The third rune is the "Cloud Script and Thunder Text." It follows the natural changes of Yin and Yang, and even those of shallow cultivation can, through mediums such as talisman paper or peach wood, trace these runes and unleash power. This script can be seen as the prototype of modern writing.

The "Introduction to the Dao of Runes" explains these three systems, yet only the Cloud Script and Thunder Text can be learned from it. Shen Lian even suspects that throughout all of Qingxuan, there may not be a detailed explanation of the True Script of the Celestial Book, and perhaps not even of the Script of the Dragon and Phoenix.

Most cultivators in the world possess some knowledge of the Dao of Runes, but those who claim mastery are exceedingly rare. Mastery in the Dao of Runes may not directly translate into combat strength—certainly less than a sword cultivator who can shatter ten thousand techniques with a single blade—but for a sect, a powerful rune master can bring many other benefits.

For instance, potent Dao talismans can be bestowed upon disciples as life-saving measures, much easier to craft than refining magical artifacts, and can even seal the power of certain treasures within them. Some spiritual talismans, when worn, constantly absorb the vital energy of heaven and earth, purifying the cultivator’s body, or can be given to family and friends, granting longevity and immunity to illness.

Some terrestrial immortals, if proficient in the Dao of Runes, can alter the terrain of a region, transforming barren lands into blessed realms, founding sects and establishing schools.

Shen Lian, being a man of such caliber, should have a powerful memory after cultivation, able to memorize at a glance. Yet memorizing the Cloud Script and Thunder Text from the "Introduction to the Dao of Runes" was not as effortless as he imagined.

Whenever he thought he had memorized a rune, upon reviewing, it seemed ambiguous, as if the rune was constantly changing. If not for his exceptional memory, he would hardly have noticed these subtle shifts.

He had already prepared white paper for copying. Yet Shen Lian found himself unable to transcribe the Cloud Script and Thunder Text from the primer onto the paper, unable to reproduce them as one would mimic a model.

Not discouraged, Shen Lian pondered where he had gone wrong.

He sat in meditation for several hours, until the sun sank in the west. Suddenly, Shen Lian felt a chill on his back, as an irresistible force took hold of him, making him lose control of his body and fall as though through mist and clouds, finally landing on the ground. Fortunately, he managed to twist midair and brace himself with one hand, avoiding a humiliating fall.

He knew the old Taoist was responsible; so direct! Even if unable to speak, he could have walked over to remind him it was time to leave, rather than act so abruptly.

Shen Lian dared not voice his thoughts, never arguing with an elder whose power far surpassed even the pill-refining cultivators.

The truth of this world lies within the reach of a fist; Shen Lian had long understood this.

He made no grand vows about rivers east and west, even though he could still be considered a youth.

Shen Lian believed learning was a gradual process. Though he had not mastered the Cloud Script and Thunder Text today, he had gained much knowledge of the Dao of Runes.

He found the Dao of Runes much more interesting than the monotony of refining qi. His spiritual will was so strong that meditation was routine, requiring little caution—he could cultivate even while walking or sitting, though the effect was slightly diminished.

He had not seen Lu Shouyi for many days, and was greatly surprised upon returning to the lower courtyard and finding him there.

Lu Shouyi was gaunt as a skeleton, his hair yellowed, his robe filthy and disordered, devoid of any scholarly bearing, resembling a beggar from the mundane world.

Shen Lian approached and patted Lu Shouyi, who sat at the entrance of Shen’s own Dao courtyard. Lu Shouyi’s expression was vacant; he looked at Shen Lian, confused.

“Lu senior brother, what’s wrong?” Shen Lian asked, quietly channeling true qi into Lu Shouyi’s ear.

Lu Shouyi’s confusion gradually faded; he collected himself, patted his head, and said, “Shen brother—no, Shen junior, you’ve already collected the Yin Jade and returned.” Since they were fellow disciples, they naturally addressed each other as senior and junior brothers.

Shen Lian was younger and thus called junior brother, though he cared little for such titles.

It was only due to their shared entrance into the sect; otherwise, Shen Lian would not bother greeting any of the other newly arrived lower courtyard disciples.

“I’ve already collected thirty pieces; there’s no need to go again. Didn’t the master bestow upon you the sect’s orthodox method? How is your cultivation progressing?” Shen Lian, seeing Lu Shouyi’s condition, guessed he had not succeeded, but refrained from discouraging him.

He could see all eight of Lu Shouyi’s meridians were open, but it did not seem the result of personal cultivation; Lu’s control over himself still lacked finesse.

“My teacher gave me a visualization method to focus and calm my mind, saying my thoughts were too scattered and I must first subdue them before further refining qi. But I simply cannot grasp the method,” Lu Shouyi said, holding his head in frustration, his voice low and frail.

“You haven’t eaten these days?” Shen Lian asked, intrigued.

His own spiritual energy was solid; he could absorb vital energy and completely abstain from food. But Lu Shouyi was still short of mastery—almost a month had passed, and he had become emaciated, likely from not eating, yet somehow not dead from starvation.

“I took a fasting pill before, which lets me go ten days or half a month without food,” Lu replied.

“But you don’t realize it’s been nearly a month since we returned from Mount Taiyi.”

Lu Shouyi was stunned. “Is that so?”

“A month has passed, and this Lu senior brother has not yet entered the orthodox method. As the disciple of the sect master, that’s hard to justify,” someone spoke leisurely.

The newcomer wore white, with a long sword at his side, handsome and spirited, with sword-like brows, eyes like stars, and a nose as prominent as a hanging gallbladder—altogether exuding heroic vigor.

As for the demeanor of a swordsman, none in the lower courtyard could match Chen Jianmei.

He too was considered distinguished and spirited.

Yet his words stung Lu Shouyi’s ears.

Lu Shouyi knew he had been favored by the sect master and taken as an inner disciple—a rare honor. Without remarkable achievement, it would indeed be difficult to convince others.

He was no fool; he guessed the speaker was likely one of the newly admitted disciples, and replied, “This junior seems to have some advice for me; please, speak freely.”