Linghu Chong met Ren Yingying in Luoyang around late spring, when the peach blossoms on Mount Heng had just begun to bloom sporadically.
Zhong Lingxiu was still waiting for her Qinpu… but it never arrived.
She couldn’t make sense of it and couldn’t quite recall the details of Golden Basin Handwashing’s plot. She vaguely knew he was trapped in Ren Woxing’s prison, but had no clue where that dungeon was.
However, Linghu Chong definitely wouldn’t die—after all, he had just performed Qu Xiu Xiaoao Jianghu Qu in a duet with Ren Yingying, and the music score hadn’t been lost.
Since that was the case, there was no need to rush. At worst, she could wait until the plot ended and then visit him to copy the score.
She had more pressing matters to attend to.
The Heart Sutra of Hengshan had reached a breakthrough point; she needed to enter seclusion for a time to cultivate and achieve the realms of “Six Roots of Purity” and “Four Elements Are Void.”
Dingxian Shitai explained carefully: “When the Six Roots are pure, the ears cannot hear the sound of wind or rain, the nose cannot smell the fragrance of plants, the tongue does not perceive sour, sweet, bitter, or spicy, the body feels neither hunger, thirst, nor fatigue, the mind is free from desires, hatred, and ignorance; the heart has no attachments, and the qi transforms into a pure breeze—that is the Four Elements Are Void.”
She pondered this explanation, concluding that it meant completely forgetting oneself and entering a profoundly mysterious state of meditation. In cultivation novels, this might be the first step into the immortal world, though how it applied to the martial arts world remained unclear.
Dingjing Shitai, worried she might feel pressured, comforted her by saying that it took her three attempts before she succeeded; the first time, not sensing the threshold was normal. The key was to capture the feeling of that moment. Dingyi Shitai was far more blunt: “Think less, don’t overthink, just follow the instructions.”
Zhong Lingxiu responded with “Yes” to everything, tidied her bedding dutifully, and moved into a meditation chamber at the Hanging Temple to begin seclusion.
The Hanging Temple was exactly like its modern counterpart, built atop a sheer cliff. Sitting alone there, one could hear the raging wind outside, feeling infinitely small in the vastness of heaven and earth.
Zhong Lingxiu chose a quiet meditation chamber; her mat was her bed, the monk’s robe her blanket. Her belongings consisted of only a water basin, a towel, a chamber pot, a wooden fish, and a string of Buddhist beads—nothing else.
The chamber pot was emptied every three days, meals were delivered at dawn daily, comparable to taking an exam in rigor.
With the door closed, her cultivation began.
The first ten days passed by methodically, without any sensation. She felt hunger and thirst, her legs went numb after sitting long, and drinking too much water made her need to pee.
She didn’t force herself—she ate and drank as needed, and lay down to sleep when tired.
With internal power cultivated, the need for sleep lessened; she would awaken after at most three hours. Several times, she woke in a haze, opened the window, and still saw stars scattered across the sky. She would feel the fresh night breeze and empty her thoughts until the sun broke through the clouds, leaping light and magnificent into the world, brightening everything.
Far from worldly dust, love, hatred, greed, and ignorance all turned to smoke, unable to linger in her mind. Instead, her physical sensations grew more vivid.
She heard the sound of the wind, the lingering sweetness on her tongue, an itch on her neck, mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly at night. That was one thing, but the Hanging Temple was ancient, surely hiding countless snakes, insects, and rodents. One night as she slept, she suddenly felt an itch on her toe.
When she kicked out, she found it was a centipede.
The bite stung painfully; she rubbed it with plant ash for quite a while before it eased.
How could she enter meditation feeling so uncomfortable? Yet the Six Roots of Purity demanded abandoning all such distractions.
Zhong Lingxiu sighed deeply and thought it over. There was no difference between not allowing the pain and itch of a wound and not allowing muscle soreness. Since she could lessen bodily fatigue, she could naturally close off her five senses.
She then focused inward, mobilizing her internal breath to control her body’s sensations.
Feeling hot, she circulated breath through her torso to disperse heat accumulation under the skin. Feeling hunger, she slowed her heartbeat to reduce energy loss. Her numb legs were treated by channeling true qi to unblock muscles, massaging qi and blood flow.
Suddenly she understood—the so-called “Six Roots of Purity” was about using willpower and internal breath to master one’s body. In Buddhism, this is called introspection: using mindful breathing to perceive the self and overcome all hardships.
Coincidentally, this was exactly what she had been doing all along.
Overcoming fatigue, cold, and drowsiness—she had done these before. Thus, this moment brought enlightenment. The next moment came like a tide, surging from her brain to heart, from lungs to limbs, unstoppable, instantly pure and clear.
Gradually, her perception of the outside world grew dim.
Days and months passed, dew soaked her shoulders, and she suddenly realized she had entered the next stage.
Four Elements Are Void—like utterly empty?
Not long after Zhong Lingxiu ascended the Hanging Temple, the Hengshan Sect first received two letters.
One came from Luoyang, delivered by a messenger who claimed to be entrusted to hand over a Qinpu to Hengshan’s Yixiu. However, as Yixiu was still in seclusion and unable to read it, it had been carefully placed beneath her pillow by her senior sisters.
The other letter arrived two months later from Hua Mountain’s Yue Buqun. It informed all the major sects that his former disciple, Linghu Chong, was of poor character and had been expelled from the sect, no longer considered a disciple of Hua Mountain.
Dingxian Shitai harbored some doubts: Yixiu and Linghu Chong had jointly killed Tian Boguang and were quite familiar with each other. Yixiu had said Linghu Chong wasn’t one to hold back his words—often joking—but was loyal and magnanimous. How could he associate with the demonic sect?
Yet Yue Buqun was his master—he wouldn’t falsely accuse a disciple without cause. Most likely, the young apprentice was immature, deceived by the demonic sect’s flattery, and stubbornly refused to see the truth, forcing his master to take this extreme measure.
If she met Sect Leader Yue, she might plead on Linghu Chong’s behalf to repay the favor.
She fingered her Buddhist beads, setting the letters aside.
More news arrived.
It turned out Yue Buqun did have reasons to expel his disciple. After leaving Luoyang, Linghu Chong encountered all manner of fiends and demons on the road, who praised him greatly. A large number of evil demons gathered at Wuba Gang for some unknown reason.
Only then did they learn that the demonic sect’s Holy Maiden had taken a fancy to the righteous young hero and lavished him with attentions. But something happened—soon they nearly broke ties, and the Holy Maiden threatened to kill Linghu Chong.
Then he disappeared without a trace.
Linghu Chong and Ren Yingying’s time together on the river invited countless glances. The sun rose and set, flowers faded and bloomed, and she contemplated the profound meaning of Four Elements Are Void.
In moments of empty thought, her heart became extremely calm, as if united with all things in heaven and earth—“I” both existed and did not exist.
But the problem was, once she became aware of this feeling, distractions immediately arose; the “I” knew itself to be “I” again, and thoughts and emotions flooded her mind. She recalled the difficulties of seclusion, the Bixie Sword Technique, Qu Xiu Xiaoao Jianghu Qu; distractions rushed in and there was no void.
Yet she could not hurry it— the more anxious she was, the more distractions appeared, and the less she could achieve Four Elements Are Void.
She could only continue practicing.
Tapping the wooden fish, she used prearranged rhythms to prompt herself to empty her mind. Her spirit transformed into clear qi, passing through the window, becoming a flying bird that escaped into clouds, sun, and moon; passing through bamboo groves and tall trees, flowing streams, and falling blossoms.
Outside the door, faint footsteps quietly receded.
For more than half a year, turmoil brewed in the jianghu, finally reaching Hengshan, removed from the secular world.
Three Shitai sat in the meditation chamber, discussing the letter sent by Zuo Lengchan.
Dingxian Shitai said, “Alliance Leader Zuo says the whereabouts of the Bixie Sword Manual remain unknown. The demonic sect seeks to root out all opposition and has launched a large-scale invasion into Fujian. They request our assistance. What are your thoughts?”
Dingyi Shitai replied without hesitation, “This is our duty. We cannot let the demonic sect’s schemes succeed.”
“Rightly so,” Dingjing Shitai mused, “It’s our responsibility. Perhaps I should lead Yiqing, Yixiu, and the others there. It would be good training for their courage.”
Dingyi Shitai nodded in agreement. “Besides Yixiu, none of the juniors can handle such an ordeal alone. While we still can move, we should take them for experience, so they can shoulder the burden in the future.”
Dingjing Shitai smiled gently and asked with concern, “How is Yixiu’s seclusion going? Is it going smoothly?”
“I visited her recently,” Dingxian Shitai moved her beads and sighed softly, “She has grasped the path. It’s impressive for someone just in her early twenties to remain so free from distraction.”
Dingyi Shitai breathed a sigh of relief, “Amitabha. I was worried about her youth and that she had contact with people like Tian Boguang and Linghu Chong, both smooth talkers…”
They had all been through similar experiences. They knew how dull monastery life was and how worldly temptations could distract. There was even a popular local opera piece about a “little nun, only sixteen, just had her hair shaved by the master, burning incense and fetching water daily in the temple, watching young men playing outside the gate.”
Who could hear that and not feel melancholy? Love, hatred, greed, and ignorance were human nature.
Yet Yixiu returned from her journey unshaken, her Buddhist heart undisturbed.
“This girl is rough on the outside but brilliant within, born with a keen root,” Dingxian Shitai said with a smile. “She remains unmoved by worldly affairs. If she can break through this bottleneck, she will surely inherit my position one day.”
The three Shitai simultaneously chanted “Amitabha.” Seeing their juniors succeed was the greatest comfort for them.
They discussed the Fujian operation further and decided it should begin as soon as possible.
But the tree desires calm while the wind will not cease.
Just as Dingjing Shitai was leading Yiqing and the young disciples toward Fujian, Hengshan received an urgent letter from Longquan Shuiyue Nunnery. It reported that demonic sect disciples were lurking near the nunnery with sinister intentions, asking for help.
Shuiyue Nunnery was also a nunnery but not as famous as Hengshan. However, it was skilled at forging Longquan swords and held some renown in the martial world.
Dingxian Shitai had a close relationship with Qingxiao Shitai of Shuiyue and would not stand idly by. “The demonic sect is active not only in Fujian but also causing trouble in Zhejiang. Their plans are vast—we cannot delay. We must depart soon.”
“Agreed. Strike fast and decisively,” Dingyi Shitai said firmly. “I will go with Sister.”
Dingxian Shitai considered briefly and nodded. “Yixiu is still in seclusion; we should not disturb her. Let Yilin stay behind to care for her.”
Having weathered many storms, though unaware of the full scope of danger, her fingers paused briefly on the beads. After a moment, she said, “If misfortune befalls us, we must leave a line of incense burning for Hengshan.”
Dingyi Shitai was taken aback, then nodded. “Yes, Yilin can remain. With the mute nun here, she can care for all the sisters in the nunnery.”
Though the two were women, they were decisive and resolute. Having made up their minds, they wasted no time and set out immediately for Longquan.
Hengshan Sect suddenly felt much emptier, silent save for birdsong.
Zhong Lingxiu awoke from her meditation to find the windowsill piled with bird droppings, rain and wind blowing in, the floor damp and cracked, smelling of mud and rot.
She rose and moved her stiff limbs, closing the window behind her, then opened the door. Outside lay a bamboo basket containing steamed buns, vegetables and tofu, vegetarian meat, and a pot of hot water.
She ate simply, washed her face and body, tossed the dirty water over the cliff, then swept the messy floor.
Doing these tasks, her mind was unusually calm; her steps light, the old floorboards making barely a sound.
Her muscles were tightly controlled—each finger’s flexion, the force in her waist and back—every muscle operating with maximum efficiency, using minimal energy to achieve precise movements. Her clothes fluttered only slightly; even passing through bushes, she wouldn’t catch many leaves.
She felt her body growing lighter, fully aware that her thighs could easily trip tigers and leopards. Her abdomen and hips were soft, with supple fat able to absorb some force briefly.
Her heart beat steadily, lungs supplied oxygen smoothly, liver and gallbladder functioned well—everything was healthy.
She picked up a fallen grass stalk and threw it along the path described in the Bixie Sword Manual.
Thud.
It flew like a fine needle into the door panel, holding straight for several seconds before drooping.
Yes, she had found the threshold.
After sitting in meditation for months before sensing it, Zhong Lingxiu couldn’t help but feel joy. In that moment of happiness, her cultivation broke through; she suddenly detached from her previous state. Sounds returned to her ears, the rush of blood flow quieted.
“Sigh… cough cough.” She hadn’t spoken in so long she almost forgot how. Clearing her throat, she muttered to herself, “Seems a little cold?”
Looking outside, tree branches were frosted white, the mountain silent and desolate—it was the scene of winter.
So more than half a year had passed.
Uh, what’s the current state of the plot?