Yuan Haowen once wrote a poem: “The great Mount Wei, ancient imperial descendant, true subtlety remains where simplicity has not dispersed, within heaven and earth there is a spiritual realm, how could its position be surpassed by other mountains?” It speaks of the scenery of North Peak Mount Heng.
At this moment, it is early spring, with lingering cold, especially so in the mountains. The morning mist in the forest has yet to clear, and thin frost clings to the pine branches and leaves. It is just like a spiritual realm within heaven and earth, with a unique and elegant beauty.
Bathed in the pale morning light and dew, two figures descend along a winding mountain path. The elder is deeply wrinkled, the younger only thirteen or fourteen, both clad in ash-black monastic robes and wearing nun’s caps—nuns cultivating in the mountains.
Sunlight pierces the mist, dispelling the chill among the woods. The two stop to rest under a tree halfway down the mountain.
“Shifu, have some water.” The young girl takes the water pouch from her waist and hands it to the elder woman.
She drinks a couple of sips, then sits down beneath the tree to chant scriptures, beginning her morning recitation. Seeing this, the girl can only sit cross-legged as well, moving her Nian Zhu and chanting along.
A quarter of an hour later, their morning practice complete, the two rise and continue down the mountain, walking about ten miles before reaching a small town at the foot.
The town is not large, but it sits at the border of Shanxi and Hebei, holding a prime location. Merchants pass through and often stay for rest, making the place quite prosperous. The two nuns walk straight east along the main road, At the sight of white banners fluttering and mourners dressed in hemp, they knew they had come to the right place.
The young girl steps forward, pressing her palms together in greeting: “Sir, is this the Wang Yuanwai’s Residence?”
“That’s right.” The Butler at the door, seeing their monastic attire, asks, “Are you from Baiyun Nunnery?”
“My shifu is Dingyan of Baiyun Nunnery. We’ve come at your invitation to perform the ritual,” the girl says clearly. “May I trouble you to announce our arrival?”
The Butler quickly replies, “The master has already given instructions. Please, both of you, come in.”
He calls for the servants to welcome the guests, personally leading the two nuns into the mourning hall in the courtyard, serving hot tea and a Vegetarian Meal, then explains the family situation, asking them to take extra care.
Ding Yan nods, finds a quiet Bamboo Mat to sit cross-legged on, and begins chanting with her prayer beads.
The girl follows suit, sitting down to recite scriptures.
The scent of sandalwood curls through the air, mournful music plays, and in the low hum of chanting, her thoughts drift to her own concerns.
It has been thirteen years since she came to this world.
Thirteen years ago, she transmigrated as an infant still in swaddling clothes, abandoned in the wild. Fortunately, Ding Yan Shitai passed by, heard her blood-curdling cries, and, unable to bear it, brought her back to Baiyun Nunnery to raise her.
For an ordinary abandoned child, this was an extraordinary stroke of luck. Abbess Ding Yi of Baiyun Nunnery is a disciple of the Mount Hengshan Sect—renowned as one of the Five Mountains Sword Sects and well respected in the Jianghu. With such a powerful background, even someone with only average martial arts skills could live a peaceful life.
But this was her second transmigration.
The last time she transmigrated… cough, as everyone knows, once is transmigration, twice is basically infinite.
She possesses a cheat: a martial arts manual known as the Void Sutra. It begins with the words:
“Return the sun and moon in clarity, return to the void in darkness. Ascend to enlightenment, return to the origin. Three Thousand Worlds—dual cultivation of essence and life. Six Harmonies Cosmos, Eight Extraordinary Meridians.”
In other words, this cheat lets the cultivator traverse the Three Thousand Worlds to study martial arts, and when their skills are perfected, they can break the void, escape the world’s barriers, and roam freely.
At the same time, like traditional martial arts manuals, the Void Sutra also requires opening the Eight Extraordinary Meridians. However, in this manual, the Six Harmonies correspond to the Five Viscera (internal organs), and the directions are treated as meridians. It also requires dual cultivation of essence and life. The “essence” exists in the sub-worlds (in Linghu Chong’s world), while “life” exists in the main world. Only by combining both can one achieve success.
Ordinary internal arts have cultivation routes; the Void Sutra is no exception. The moment she landed in her swaddling clothes, she saw a patch of white light drawing near, with a clear prompt. She immediately mustered all her strength to cry, successfully attracting Ding Yan Shitai’s attention.
After being brought into Baiyun Nunnery, the white light expanded from DingYyan Shitai to the whole nunnery, then disappeared.
—This meant she had already “drawn Qi into the body,” officially starting her cultivation.
However, after more than ten years on the mountain, there were still no signs of reaching the standard.
Is her talent too poor, did she miss something, or is there another reason?
The more Zhong Lingxiu thought about it, the more troubled she felt. Her gaze drifted from the swirling incense smoke as the aroma of food from Wang Yuanwai’s Residence filled her nose, making her stomach churn with hunger.
To be honest, at Baiyun Nunnery she had food, clothes, and martial arts to learn, which was better than most. The Shitai had different tempers, but all cared for their disciples, so life was hardly difficult.
But no matter what, a nunnery is still a nunnery—no meat allowed.
The children’s bodies are not yet grown; eating two eggs is a treat, but that’s all they get—just eggs.
She’s thirteen now, a martial arts trainee, but only 1.3 meters tall—a complete little shorty!
There are also other nuns in the nunnery with poor aptitude, usually just boiling water and cooking. Even at sixteen or seventeen, they are only 1.4 or 1.5 meters tall.
Zhong Lingxiu seriously suspected her slow martial arts progress was due to malnutrition.
Martial arts require wealth, and without nutrition, how can you train?
But she had no solution.
Mount Heng Sect’s rules are strict. Nuns like her must follow their shifu every day, get up early for morning lessons and breakfast—usually bean porridge and greens with fermented tofu or pickled vegetables—then copy scriptures and meditate. In the afternoon, they train in martial arts and swordplay with another shishu, until evening when they have dinner—slightly richer, with mushrooms, tofu skin, and vegetarian gluten.
If there’s any free time, they run errands for their shifu and shishu, or make their own insoles and clothes—hardly ever a chance to go out alone, let alone sneak off to catch birds for a treat.
Even if she managed to sneak out, it wouldn’t be easy—Ding Yan Shitai’s martial arts are average, and she is not famous in Mount Heng Sect, but her Buddhist teachings are profound. She lectures for the laywomen in the nunnery and writes beautiful calligraphy. If the villagers have requests, she also goes down the mountain to perform Daoist Rituals. Following such a shifu, most of Zhong Lingxiu’s days are spent reciting scriptures—she’s never even touched a stove.
Thus, even if she caught an unlucky wild chicken using her martial arts, she couldn’t kill or cook it, and if caught by her shifu for killing, she’d be punished with confinement—a loss outweighing the gain.
In summary, she’s a disgrace to transmigrators everywhere.
Lost in her thoughts, Zhong Lingxiu chanted until night fell.
A maid led them to the backyard to rest and served a decent Vegetarian Meal.
Dining with Ding Yan Shitai, fetching water to wash her shifu’s feet, then washing herself, she finally lay down to sleep.
Practice martial arts? No energy left.
At this age, after walking several kilometers down the mountain and a whole day of chanting, even iron would collapse.
Zhong Lingxiu fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
The next day.
Still chanting scriptures, and exchanging greetings with the Daoist Disciples from Mount Heng, then each performing their own rituals, not interfering with one another.
Wang Yuanwai was originally a merchant, who amassed wealth and bought the honorary title of Yuanwai Lang. His family is well-off, and now that his old mother has passed, he is holding a seven-day Daoist Ritual for her.
Seven days—seven whole days of sitting and chanting!
Zhong Lingxiu managed the first day, barely made it through the second, and by the third, she was already struggling, holding on by sheer willpower. By the fourth, her throat was hoarse and she could only beat the Muyu and chant silently. The fifth day, her spirit left her body; the sixth, she was listless; by the seventh, she was just spacing out, muddling through.
Finally, after the burial, they still couldn’t rest—they had to buy supplies for the sisters back at the mountain.
As one of the Five Mountains Sword Sect, Mount Heng Sect owns a fair amount of property, such as Baiyun Nunnery, Water Moon Nunnery, and the fields around them. These assets are tax-exempt, enough to meet the daily needs of the nuns.
For little nuns like Zhong Lingxiu, there’s not a single coin to their name. The nunnery issues two sets of clothes each quarter, toothbrush, Tooth Powder, and towels on the first of the month—everything provided, with no need for money. But the nuns come from various backgrounds. Many are daughters of wealthy families near Mount Heng, sent to the sect as Sujia Disciples either due to frail health or to avoid disaster and strengthen themselves.
During festivals, families who dote on their daughters send gifts up the mountain—snacks, clothes, quilts, cotton, and of course some silver for emergencies.
Some older shijie and shishu often travel the Jianghu, helping people, and those they save offer thanks—these silver coins are not taken by the nunnery, but kept for personal use.
Only Zhong Lingxiu—an orphan, no parents, no family to care for her, and not yet graduated, so no chance to be chivalrous—her pockets are cleaner than her face.
Fortunately, their host understood. Knowing Mount Heng Sect’s reputation in the Jianghu and wanting to build good relations, they not only served plenty of Vegetarian Meals and snacks, but also gifted two cotton robes and a pair of cotton shoes, so she didn’t return empty-handed.
Ding Yan Shitai also doted on her disciple. Instead of going straight back to the mountain, she found a roadside noodle stall, ordered two bowls of plain noodles, and instructed the shopkeeper: “Two bowls of clear soup noodles, one with an Egg Braised in Soy.”
When the food arrived, she pushed the bowl with the Egg Braised in Soy to her disciple: “Eat.”
“Thank you, Shifu.” Baiyun Nunnery avoids meat and fish, so just seeing an Egg Braised in Soy made Zhong Lingxiu’s mouth water. She couldn’t wait to grab it and pop it in her mouth, the savory egg white and yolk mixing together—so fragrant she slurped down three mouthfuls of noodles in a row.
As she was eating heartily, suddenly the sound of hurried footsteps came from afar. A young servant dashed through the bustling street, gasping for breath as he rushed into the shop across the way, his voice anxious: “Master, bad news! The young miss—the young miss has taken her own life…”
“What?” The shop sold sewing supplies; aside from the shopkeeper, his wife was there too. On hearing this, her eyes rolled back and she fainted on the spot, causing the shopkeeper to shout in alarm, “Madam? Madam!”
Ding Yan Shitai immediately put down her bowl and chopsticks, telling Zhong Lingxiu to stay put and not wander, then hurried over: “This humble nun is Baiyun Nunnery Ding Yan and knows a little medicine. May I take a look at your wife?”
“Thank you, Shitai.” The shopkeeper entrusted his wife to Ding Yan, then grabbed the servant and scolded, “What happened? Weren’t you supposed to watch her…”
The servant, out of breath from running, his throat hoarse, replied, “Everything was fine with the old lady, but the young miss said she wanted some peace and then… then she took her own life.”
Zhong Lingxiu frowned slightly and sped up her eating. The old man at the next table put down his chopsticks and sighed heavily, “What a sin.”
The stall owner nodded silently, lamenting, “The Zhao family gives out porridge every year and does good deeds. Who would have thought such a thing would happen to them? Truly, good people don’t always meet with good fortune.”
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