Chapter 5: No longer bald, and stronger

Having successfully returned to secular life, Zhong Lingxiu now ate from the communal pot shared by the secular disciples.

The Hengshan Sect lived frugally, with little meat or strong flavors; occasionally they found some pork fat or lamb offal. Fortunately, as the weather gradually warmed, the small animals in the mountains began to emerge.

Zhong Lingxiu resumed her lightness skill training plan, chasing birds in the mountains every day. This year, instead of catching them with her hands, she used sword thrusts—both practicing her lightness skill and putting the Hengshan Sword Art into use, killing two birds with one stone.

With the temptation of roasted sparrows as motivation, she was even more driven than last year, catching a dozen or so each day. Plucking and gutting them, she carried them to Yizhen’s room, asking her to help stew them into soup.

Yizhen was quite skilled in cooking. She kneaded dough and sliced it into flakes, making a pot of sparrow noodle soup.

Sparrows didn’t have much meat in total, but Zhong Lingxiu could eat five or six in one sitting, leaving the rest to be reheated the next morning and finished off in one meal.

Peach blossoms bloomed once again in vibrant colors, and sword practice resumed.

Still the Hengshan Sword Art, with its forty-eight moves.

She wielded it with greater ease now; sometimes the most fitting move would come without thought. Unfortunately, like Duan Yu’s Lingbo Weibu, her technique was sometimes effective and sometimes not—she had to keep practicing diligently to try and imprint it into her DNA.

The warm breeze blew softly, temperatures rising day by day, and the number of small animals grew steadily.

Rabbits, wild chickens, field mice, and snakes ran wildly across the mountains, enriching her diet choices. Zhong Lingxiu trapped chickens on the mountain and caught shrimp in the river, finally filling her stomach.

How could the fullness of a bowl of noodles compare to eating a whole roasted chicken???

She hadn’t cried while struggling with sword practice, nor when she twisted her ankle, nor when she nearly slipped off a cliff fetching water in the dead of winter—but when she finally ate roasted chicken, tears almost streamed down her face.

It was just too delicious.

Unconsciously, summer arrived—and with it, a new situation.

Villagers at the foot of the mountain were attacked by a pack of wolves; a child was dragged away by the wild wolves. Several days later, the villagers found the child’s remains in the mountains and came up to seek help.

Master Dingyi sent Yiqing to handle the matter, and Yiqing took Zhong Lingxiu along: “You’re no longer a child; you should learn some useful skills.”

Zhong Lingxiu was puzzled at first, but the moment she followed them down the mountain, she understood.

Yiqing first went to the villagers’ home to learn the details, then followed the hunter who had found the remains back up the mountain, tracking the wolves’ trail.

“Martial Sister, how many wolves do you think there are?” Yiqing tested her observational skills.

Zhong Lingxiu strained to discern the scattered footprints on the ground: one, two, three… “I only see three types,” she said, dejectedly. “One with a limp, one with larger paws, the rest all look about the same.”

“Your eyesight needs improvement,” Yiqing assessed objectively, pointing at a spot. “This hind paw print is heavier at the front and lighter at the back, similar to these two. But here, take a closer look—the weight is heavier at the back and lighter at the front. One intercepts, the other attacks. Their roles are clear.”

Zhong Lingxiu suddenly understood: “What you say makes sense.”

Yiqing then pointed to the dense grass, brushing aside leaves: “There’s blood here. Let’s follow this direction.”

“Yes.”

From then on, every time Yiqing found a clue, she would stop and teach Zhong Lingxiu tracking techniques hands-on.

She explained how to identify signs of struggle, recognize incomplete footprints. The hunter taught her how to discern direction, conceal their scent, and set traps. None of this knowledge was found in Buddhist Canons or the Lunyu—it was all passed down verbally by predecessors, hand in hand.

Zhong Lingxiu was fully attentive, memorizing every word.

This was what was called experience in the Jianghu.

They tracked through the forest for two days and one night, finally finding the culprits.

The hunter taught her how to set traps: how to dig pits, make snare cords. Although time was limited and the instruction not in-depth, it greatly expanded Zhong Lingxiu’s knowledge. Next time she could catch wild boars directly instead of always troubling rabbits.

With the traps set, they needed a way to lure the wolves.

Zhong Lingxiu’s years of practice catching sparrows finally found a use.

She ran east and west through the woods, catching many sparrows and wild chickens to use as bait and to provide food for everyone’s stomachs.

The hunter’s surname was Li. Zhong Lingxiu called him Uncle Li. He had been a hunter at the foot of Hengshan for over thirty years and was an expert in barbecue techniques. He instructed her on how to gut animals, thread different meats together, control the fire’s intensity, and when to add salt for flavor.

Zhong Lingxiu learned very seriously.

She hadn’t yet entered the Jianghu and didn’t know its true nature, but learning a little more couldn’t hurt.

Under the assault of this seasoned hunter, the wolf pack gradually stepped into the chain traps, losing three of their number before escaping the mountain in a pitiful state.

“Little Master,” Li Hunter brandished his knife with a sharp gleam, “Want to try skinning a wolf?”

Zhong Lingxiu’s eyes lit up: “Yes, please teach me.”

Li Hunter couldn’t hide his pride: “Old Li’s other skills might be questionable, but skinning is my specialty. It’s an ancestral technique. Watch closely, Little Master.”

“Alright, I’m ready.” Zhong Lingxiu squatted beside him, eyes fixed on the blade as it sliced in. With a slight lift of the wrist, the skin separated cleanly from the muscle. A quick twist and the joints were neatly detached.

It was a delight to watch.

Li Hunter showed off his skill, proud in his heart and grateful they had helped rid the village of a great calamity. He said, “Little Master, these three pelts are damaged, so they’re not good for making clothes, but they’ll do fine for bedding. If you don’t mind, once properly tanned, you can take them back. They’ll keep out the cold at night.”

Zhong Lingxiu, who slept on rough cotton quilts in White Cloud Nunnery, with only moderate warmth, was tempted. She glanced at Yiqing.

Yiqing nodded slightly.

Only then did she say, “Thank you, Uncle Li. I’m deeply grateful.”

“It’s nothing, not worth much.” Li Hunter efficiently finished skinning the wolves and roughly processed the remaining parts, slinging them over his shoulder to bring back to the village.

Wolf meat was tough and gamey, not tasty at all, but for the common folk who rarely had meat, any meat was good meat.

They had taken some detours on the way, but the return journey was much faster. Zhong Lingxiu followed them all the way back, her mind still occupied with Li Hunter’s skinning techniques. Suddenly a bright idea struck her, and she asked, “Martial Sister.”

“Hm?”

“Does the Hengshan Sword Art have two moves that target joints?” The more she thought about it, the more interesting it became. She gestured, “Like ‘Smiling Flower Plucks the Plum’—doesn’t it strike the opponent’s elbow just right?”

Yiqing couldn’t help but glance at her twice. Everyone at the nunnery knew Zhong Lingxiu was diligent in her martial arts practice. It was precisely because of this that Yiqing wanted her to gain more experience outside the mountain. She hadn’t expected her to have such comprehension and to grasp the essence of the Hengshan Sword Art. A faint smile appeared: “Correct.”

Zhong Lingxiu smiled in return, then lowered her head to continue pondering.

The next day at noon, they returned safely.

The villagers welcomed them warmly, offering a vegetarian feast in thanks. Upon learning Zhong Lingxiu had returned to secular life, they gave her an extra chicken leg.

Chew, chew, chew~~

So tough.

She pounded her chest and swallowed with difficulty.

Who said ancient chickens were free of pollution? They really had so little meat.

–

The brief outing ended, and Zhong Lingxiu returned to White Cloud Nunnery to continue her cultivation.

Her Hengshan Sword Art grew increasingly refined, engraved into muscle memory, allowing her to perform without thought. When autumn’s falling leaves danced in the wind, none could cling to her sleeves. Her sparrow-catching training was also effective, catching a few each day.

Master Dingyi heard this and specially summoned her for guidance.

“Draw your sword.”

“Yes.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the Buddhist prayer beads in Master Dingyi’s hand suddenly snapped, shooting like a swift arrow toward Zhong Lingxiu’s vital points.

She hurriedly defended with the Hengshan Sword Art. Out of thirty-six beads in the string, she blocked over thirty; five grazed her but caused little harm.

Only the last bead was too tricky—it hit her pericardium acupoint, sending a tingling numbness through her wrist, and the sword slipped from her hand.

“Not bad, your sword technique is taking shape, but you have too many flaws,” Master Dingyi admonished. “Remember, a swordsman’s sword should never leave their hand.”

Zhong Lingxiu had studied hard for a year and a half but couldn’t last a single round against Master Dingyi. It was impossible not to feel disappointed and frustrated, but with her Gold Finger, she kept a good attitude and quickly adjusted: “Disciple remembers well.”

Master Dingyi nodded with satisfaction: “From now on, come to me on the fifteenth of every month.”

She brightened immediately: “Yes, thank you for your guidance, Master.”

Practicing blindly alone couldn’t compare to instruction from a skilled teacher. She was practically a top student now. However, being guided monthly meant monthly assessments—if she failed to satisfy Master Dingyi after two or three tries, she would be out.

The flaws revealed today had to be fixed.

The problem everyone knew about sword practice was that the ultimate goal was the unity of sword and person. But how to achieve that unity?

Zhong Lingxiu racked her brains all night but found no clue. In the end, she resorted to the simplest method: being inseparable from her sword from dawn till dusk.

In the morning, while brushing her teeth and washing her face, the sword was clamped under her ribs. During morning recitations and striking the wooden fish, the sword rested on her lap. When going to the latrine, it was behind her back. At night, she hugged it to sleep.

She even tried doing other things with the sword.

Practicing calligraphy in the dirt, using the sword to sweep fallen flowers into patterns, occasionally going to the water’s edge to spear fish.

Whether her sword skill improved was uncertain, but her body truly grew accustomed to the sword’s presence. Whether worn on the back or waist, she could draw and sheath it instantly—even with her eyes closed, it slid back into the scabbard perfectly every time.

When the next fifteenth came, she returned to Master Dingyi for instruction and barely managed to pass a couple of moves.

By the third month, Master Dingyi also drew her sword.

Zhong Lingxiu’s arm tingled from the force of her Inner Force, her sword moves fell apart, and her black robes were riddled with holes. She was utterly defeated.

“Your Inner Force is still insufficient,” Master Dingyi said. “Keep training.”

“…Yes.”

Unconsciously, autumn passed, and the first snow arrived.

Li Hunter’s wolfskin bedding was finished and sent up the mountain. Sleeping under it, no matter how cold the night, her hands and feet never froze.

After two days, Zhong Lingxiu felt ready again. A new plan formed in her mind— the Cold Jade Bed from Divine Condor’s story could aid Inner Force cultivation. Though the Sword Sect didn’t have a Thousand-Year Cold Jade, Hengshan was in the north, and during the coldest days, the mountains were covered in ice and snow. Why not make use of it?

She resolved to spend five or six days collecting ice from the river, layering water to freeze into one solid block, forging an ice bed. Wrapped in wolfskin, she shivered as she sat down to practice.

It was really cold!

Colder than fetching water since movement generated some heat to dispel cold. Sitting still was different—the longer she sat, the colder she became, forcing her to counter with Inner Force.

At first, two hours on the ice bed left her exhausted and freezing, forcing her to retreat to warm by the fire. Gradually, she adapted to longer durations—three, then four hours—always enduring until her Inner Force ran out before leaving.

Before results appeared, word spread in the sect. Yizhen, Yiqing, Yizhen, even Master Dingyi disapproved of her method, saying haste makes waste, that she risked going astray in cultivation. They forced her to stop this madness.

Zhong Lingxiu found no fault but dared not disobey, especially given the strict rules of the Five Great Sword Sects.

Master Dingyi treated her kindly, sensing her frustration, and decided to teach her two new martial arts:

The Tianchang Palm Technique and the Wanhua Sword Art.

The former compensated for her lack of bare-handed skills; the latter transformed the Hengshan Sword Art’s defensive style into something like myriad flowers, graceful and agile, making up for weak offense.

With two new arts to study, Zhong Lingxiu busied herself learning the moves and gradually forgot about the ice bed.

Winter passed into spring; she was sixteen by East Asian reckoning.

That year, Yue Buqun, the leader of Huashan, celebrated his fortieth birthday, and Hengshan was to send a gift to Huashan.