The Cemetery Ruins, ravens spread their wings over the corpses, their crimson, sharp eyes never blinking, beaks smeared with rotting flesh.
Cong Xin woke up, but dared not open his eyes, nor move an inch; yet his breath betrayed him, ragged and uneven.
After waiting a long time without anyone coming, he finally opened his eyes and cautiously began to observe his surroundings.
He was now inside a Chai Room, the heavy scent of wood chips from the firewood filling the air, which strangely eased his tense nerves.
He had actually survived. If he weren’t in an unknown place right now, he would surely have danced about in celebration.
Suddenly, Cong Xin’s expression changed. He patted himself all over but couldn’t find the Qiju Bag he had just made—it was a loss both in men and materials!
He inwardly cursed his misfortune, swiftly getting to his feet.
The window of the Chai Room was still a Papier-mâché Window, and Cong Xin swallowed hard involuntarily as he stared intently. Suddenly, a pitch-black Dark Tentacle lunged at him.
Cold sweat broke out on Cong Xin’s forehead as he jerked his head aside to dodge. But when he looked again, the paper window was still intact, unpierced.
“Creak—” The door was pushed open.
Cong Xin turned his head, eyes wide open.
A young scholar in a black robe, wearing a Confucian Hat, stepped in slowly. Silver bamboo-patterned embroidery adorned his robe.
His features were strikingly beautiful yet decadently languid, as if sculpted by an artisan—deep, mesmerizing eyes with two tear-shaped moles beneath them.
A high nose bridge, and rosy lips, each perfectly fitting, evoking all things beautiful, like ever-blooming Peony and Water Lotus standing gracefully under the blazing sun.
His eyes narrowed slightly, lips curled up, adding an aura of lazy nobility to his charm. The scholar was like a captivating whirlpool, radiating a demonic, otherworldly beauty that drew one’s gaze irresistibly.
Cong Xin’s mind instantly buzzed as if short-circuiting.
Never in his life had he seen such beauty. Just one glance and he was utterly bewitched, his mind circling around one single thought: look at him!
“Clang!” A bag was thrown onto the floor by the scholar.
Cong Xin was abruptly jolted awake, forcing himself not to look.
The cloth bag’s opening was loose, and a rusted iron hook rolled out, dark bloodstains mottling its surface, with a rotting stench steadily spreading.
Cong Xin instantly recognized these as his own tools.
His incantations were poor to begin with, and now the tools that helped him perform spells had been confiscated—his luck had truly run out.
The scholar smiled faintly, “This Bag of Torture Tools is yours, right? How does a little Daoist like you carry such things?”
Cong Xin’s lips parted and closed a few times, unable to come up with an answer, and could only stammer, “For… self-defense.”
The scholar’s voice softened in consolation:
“Don’t be afraid, I’m not here to criticize you. If you’re willing to listen to my lectures and want to improve yourself, as a teacher, I welcome that. If you want, you can stay at the academy. Tuition and such don’t matter to me.”
Cong Xin was stunned, pursing his lips as he cautiously asked, “I am a Daoist who serves the gods and offers incense; can I really enter your academy?”
The scholar, used to teaching, replied, “My principle is ‘education without discrimination,’ which means teaching without regard to status or background, treating everyone equally.”
“Even though you are a Daoist, you have a heart eager to learn. How could I not be moved? Do you understand what I mean?”
Cong Xin hesitated but nodded, stammering, “I… understand.”
The scholar paused, sensing a slight increase in his own abilities—his innate talent responding. He looked at the small figure before him with new eyes, pity and affection welling up.
This clearly was his destined disciple. His growing emotions made him step forward and gently pat the little Daoist’s rough, slender head. Softly, he said, “Good child.”
Cong Xin remained silent for a moment, his expression complicated as he looked at the scholar’s tender face.
He finally spoke, “Benefactor, I am here.”
The scholar’s hand, resting on the stack of firewood nearby, paused. His face didn’t change, still wearing that affectionate smile, he reached out and found the correct head: “Good child.”
A joke—if he himself wasn’t embarrassed, the embarrassment wouldn’t disappear, just shift!
The little Daoist awkwardly asked, “Benefactor, your eyes—what’s wrong with them?”
The scholar replied casually, “I’m naturally nearsighted. The prescription is strong, meaning I can’t see distant objects or people clearly. I have to get close to see properly.”
“Nearsighted?” Cong Xin repeated quietly. He looked up; the scholar’s moist, radiant face shone with gentle light.
Just looking at him made a part of Cong Xin’s heart collapse. He wanted to send him to school, to learn great knowledge, but this was something beyond people like himself.
Having grown up always reading the room and living off others’ goodwill, Cong Xin could tell the scholar’s true intentions: he genuinely wanted to take him as a student!
How great it would have been to meet this scholar when he was a wandering beggar.
Now, living well—unharmed by ghosts stealing his mind, untouched by their mutilation, arms and legs intact—he must owe this to the scholar’s immense fortune. The scholar had saved his life!
Against the overwhelming hordes of demons and ghosts, what must the scholar have sacrificed to save him! Such fiends were never to be trusted. Why would they have their benefactor as their student?
A dark plan must be behind the benefactor’s demon student!
Cong Xin eagerly stepped forward, grasping the scholar’s hands: “Benefactor! Do you know the kind of students you teach are—”
“My students?” The scholar knew perfectly well. Each was carefully selected, the best illiterate seeds! He was somewhat proud.
Over the years, though his aims weren’t pure, he had truly practiced education without discrimination, helping countless to escape dull lives.
Cong Xin’s hands suddenly trembled violently.
The scholar thought, Could this child really be this excited about becoming his student?
Just then, the scholar caught a scent—the smell of his mother. It carried the fragrance of dried fruit peels.
Having spent many years with his mother, who had witnessed every stage of his life, he felt a pang of pride, as if to boast about how his teaching career was reaching a new level.
His previous students had been brought by his mother, people recommended after leaving, but this time someone came of their own accord.
It was rare, especially as he was just seeing off a student who had completed their training—perhaps a bit of fate was involved.
The scholar turned to look. The familiar black figure was comforting. He stepped forward, took hold of his mother’s slender, plush forelimb, and smiled:
“Mother, why are you here? I’m taking on new students, and this one came on their own accord. Though no gift was brought, they have a sincere heart to learn!”
His mother had always supported him. She reached out her limbs and affectionately patted his head, both approval and praise.
At that moment—
“Th-this is…” The little Daoist’s voice trembled, light as if treading on clouds, as though in a dream.
The scholar took his mother’s hand and introduced, “This is my mother who raised me. Don’t be afraid of her. She’s just large in size but has the softest heart. She won’t eat anyone.”
“R-really?” Cong Xin replied weakly.
“Of course! She was my first student, my proudest disciple! Don’t be fooled by her massive frame. Just look at her soft fur and you’ll know she’s the warmest!”
The scholar sighed, “Thanks to her great support, I was able to develop my academy and teach so many students with both good character and talents! This great motherly love is truly moving, don’t you agree?”
“Don’t move, don’t move,” Cong Xin babbled nervously, then suddenly realized and corrected himself, “I’m moved. Truly, I’ve never been this moved since birth!”
He looked fearfully over.
The grotesque creature was bulky, pitch-black as ink, coiling in place. Its wet tentacles flowed like ribbons fluttering in the air.
It stood upright like a human, leaning forward on its two limbs. Facing the scholar’s tender face was a grotesquely distorted visage, eyes and nose in inverted positions, forcibly twisted features.
Tentacles even bore unused facial features—blinking eyes, a high nose bridge, and a snarling mouth.
Cong Xin’s mind buzzed; blood dripped from his eyes, mouth, and nose as he painfully closed his eyes, unable to look.
Benefactor! You really are just nearsighted, not blind! Who would mistake such a thing for their mother?
A strong urgency arose in Cong Xin’s heart. Such a bizarre creature keeping a human must not be out of love.
His pure benefactor was clearly deceived. He must act! He must repay his benefactor’s kindness! He was his benefactor’s only hope!
The scholar smiled brightly and returned to his earlier question, “You just said, what about my students?”
As he spoke, the grotesque creature’s many eyes on its tentacles all turned toward Cong Xin, a terrifying aura rising from the ground, making him shudder.
The little Daoist forced a smile to please and tremulously gave a thumbs-up:
“Absolutely that! Everyone within ten miles says your students are incarnations of the Goddess of Literature! There’s no one kinder or gentler than your students!”
Really?
The scholar raised an eyebrow. His power surged again. Curiosity piqued, what had this little Daoist just learned? He hadn’t taught him anything yet.
***
【Age 18: The poor little Daoist, under your gentle words, decides to join your academy. You’re overjoyed beyond control. Just yesterday, you sent off a disciple who had completed their studies.
Good disciples like these are hard to find, and once a student reaches a certain level, it becomes extremely difficult to improve their skills despite great effort.
Moreover, your academy’s location is poor. Some fear the forest beasts and refuse to attend, making enrollment always an issue.
One student leaves, and it’s uncertain how long until the next arrives. Until now, who would have thought someone would just show up at your door like this, a perfect seed?
You are ecstatic. Your face is beautiful even in sadness, let alone radiant—it’s dazzling beyond measure!
You personally go to persuade this excellent… ahem, Innate Student Saint Body to enroll. The little Daoist is particularly pure but quite bothered by the animal students in your academy.
What’s wrong with animals? Animals can run and call, why can’t they be students? Fortunately, your mother helps you—she always helps you! Haha! The intimidation theory activates!
They’ve come onto your turf, into your sight. You’ve offended the Forest King; a mere little Daoist wants to run? Bring it on!
Oh! Your smug face is also beautiful! Moral Value drops, *** value greatly increases!】
Wu You’s eyes widened, feeling deeply insulted: “Smug? That’s strategy! That’s scheming! That’s wisdom! Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t understand!”
He cursed, muttering strange things like “Peach and Plum Plan,” “It’s necessary for the plan.”
The simulation continued.