Chapter 18
During their interaction, the abbot of Qingyun Temple had kept his eyes closed, silently turning his prayer beads. The city magistrate looked stunned, and the young monk Liaonian wished he could unsee what he had just witnessed.
However, the two people involved didn’t care.
In this aspect, Heng Yu and Liaowu had a rare tacit understanding.
“Magistrate, I leave this person to you,” Heng Yu said, looking at the city magistrate.
The magistrate, who had been lost in thought, snapped back to reality.
He quickly composed himself and cupped his hands. “Rest assured, Miss Luo. Magistrate Zhao upheld justice and served the people well. I won’t let his death be in vain.”
In this whole affair, Magistrate Zhao was an innocent victim. As the city magistrate, a serious crime had occurred under his jurisdiction, with conclusive evidence. According to the law, the perpetrator deserved to die ten times over.
Yet, the one who upheld the law had lost his life because of it.
It was truly unjust!
But then the magistrate thought of Xiaoyaozi, Fan Changping’s master.
The Void Alliance was a second-rate sect. This Miss Luo, with her mysterious background, could look down on the Void Alliance, but he couldn’t afford to offend them.
Worry crept into the magistrate’s expression.
Heng Yu guessed his concerns. “Magistrate, please rest assured. As long as you spread the news that Fan Changping is a demon, Xiaoyaozi won’t blame you.”
Demons were the common enemy of both righteous and demonic cultivators. Xiaoyaozi wouldn’t dare defy the entire cultivation world by protecting his disciple.
Hearing Heng Yu’s words, the magistrate felt relieved.
He cupped his hands towards Heng Yu and said with a wry smile, “I’ve made a fool of myself in front of Miss Luo.”
Heng Yu returned the gesture with a spell.
She didn’t look at the kneeling Fan Changping again and said directly, “It’s getting late. Now that this matter is settled, I’ll take my leave.”
Heng Yu turned and left the magistrate’s residence.
After she left, Liaowu, Liaonian, and the abbot also took their leave.
Walking out of the residence, Liaonian hesitated to speak, occasionally glancing at Liaowu.
He thought he was being subtle, but Liaowu and the abbot had already noticed his behavior.
They returned to their courtyard in silence. Liaowu opened the door to his room and looked at Liaonian. “Come in.”
“Senior Brother…”
Liaowu entered first and opened the window for ventilation.
Liaonian hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and followed.
“Just ask if you have any questions.”
“Senior Brother…” Liaonian mustered his courage. “Why are you so lenient towards that demonic woman? You know… you know…”
His voice trailed off.
He had grown up in the Undying Sect and only encountered women when he occasionally went down the mountain to assist his senior brothers in preaching Buddhist teachings. But those women were all devout Buddhists and treated them with respect, unlike this demonic woman, who dared to ask his senior brother to wipe the blood off her face.
There was cooled boiled water in the kettle. Liaowu poured some into a clean cup and offered it to Liaonian.
“If you don’t understand, there’s no need to ask.”
Liaonian was stunned. “Does that demonic woman understand?”
Liaowu asked him, “Did you notice the magistrate’s concerns at the residence today?”
He hadn’t noticed, nor had Liaonian, not even the knowledgeable abbot.
In terms of understanding the human heart, Lord Luo was indeed far superior to many.
So how could she not understand the reason for his leniency?
After Liaonian left, Liaowu picked up a scripture and casually flipped through it. After reading a few lines, his mind wandered.
He lowered his gaze and took out a simple jade box from his storage ring.
He gently opened the box, revealing a ginkgo leaf inside.
Under Liaowu’s gaze, the veins of the leaf suddenly glowed faintly.
Heng Yu was browsing the cultivator’s market.
This town was inhabited by both mortals and cultivators, so naturally, there was a market specifically for cultivator transactions. Many rogue cultivators had set up stalls, selling books, materials, and artifacts.
However, most of these rogue cultivators were at the Qi Refining stage, and the materials and artifacts they sold weren’t of much use to Heng Yu. So, she mainly browsed the books, looking for anything interesting.
The stall next to her displayed paper books.
Heng Yu walked over, squatted down, and picked up a book.
The title on the cover read: “Cheng Hao’s Cultivation Handbook.”
The title sounded grand. Heng Yu opened the first page and glanced at it —
Cheng Hao, orphaned at a young age, possessed only a seemingly ordinary necklace left by his mother. One day, Cheng Hao was injured, and his blood dripped onto the necklace, unexpectedly awakening a million-year-old divine beast…
Heng Yu: “…”
She had been slightly expectant before opening the book, but it turned out to be…
A fictional story?!
“Miss, is there anything you like?”
The stall owner looked about seventeen or eighteen years old, at the third level of Qi Refining. His stall wasn’t doing much business, so seeing a cultivator approach, he greeted her enthusiastically.
Heng Yu looked at the storybook in her hand and asked, “Do you have any stories that are less clichéd and more interesting?”
It wasn’t that she disliked storybooks; she just disliked clichéd ones!
In the cultivation world, one couldn’t cultivate in seclusion for decades without a break. It was good to have some storybooks in her storage ring.
The young man was stunned for a moment, then quickly replied, “Yes, yes, yes!”
As he searched for storybooks, Heng Yu casually browsed the other books on the stall.
Most were fictional stories. A few were old and worn, their contents unclear.
In a corner, lay a book with a tattered cover.
Because the cover was falling apart, Heng Yu could see the words “Amitabha” handwritten on the title page.
She walked over and picked up the book.
Heng Yu held the book gently, using her spiritual energy to protect it.
She had a feeling that if she used too much force, the fragile book might fall apart.
Opening the first page, Heng Yu realized it was a travelogue. It recorded the experiences of a monk named “Yuanjing” as he traveled the world, preaching Buddhist teachings, along with his insights and reflections.
This book would be a suitable gift for Liaowu.
“These storybooks, along with this one, how much are they?”
The young man smiled, his canine teeth showing. “The storybooks are two low-grade spirit stones each. That old book is only worth one low-grade spirit stone.”
The young man clearly thought the travelogue was worthless.
But for Heng Yu and Liaowu, the insights of their predecessors were sometimes more valuable than cultivation techniques and secret manuals.
Heng Yu stroked the travelogue and didn’t emphasize its value, paying the price the young man quoted.
Passing by a bookstore, Heng Yu bought brushes, ink, paper, and an inkstone.
She had practiced calligraphy before transmigrating, but only as a hobby. Now, in this world, calligraphy was the common form of writing, so she had to practice properly to avoid embarrassing herself with poor handwriting.
Back in her courtyard, Heng Yu opened the window in her study and practiced calligraphy under the setting sun.
She spread out a sheet of xuan paper, dipped her brush in ink, and wrote —
— Since ancient times, all sages have been lonely, only those who drink leave their names.
Her brushstrokes were fluid and graceful, like floating clouds.
Although not masterful, her calligraphy was above average. Even though she had only practiced as a hobby before, she had put in considerable effort.
After finishing the large characters, Heng Yu switched to ordinary paper for practice. She infused a trace of spiritual energy into the brush, letting it flow onto the paper with each stroke.
However, her control over the spiritual energy wasn’t stable at first. Her hand trembled slightly, and the excess spiritual energy tore the paper.
Heng Yu crumpled the torn paper and threw it into the wastebasket. She focused on controlling her spiritual energy, using this method to improve her precision — after all, the spiritual energy in her body wasn’t cultivated step by step by her.
Her control over spiritual energy wasn’t as good as the original body’s, so practicing calligraphy this way was a way to improve both her handwriting and her control over spiritual energy, killing two birds with one stone.
Her mind wandered, and her control over spiritual energy wavered again.
Heng Yu quickly focused, devoting herself to calligraphy.
She put down her brush when the room grew dark.
She stretched her wrist, organized the written pages, and left the study.
Heng Yu didn’t cultivate that night but slept soundly on the soft bed.
The next morning, the sunlight streamed through the window, falling on her face.
Heng Yu casually picked up a storybook and covered her face with it to block the sunlight.
But soon, she was fully awake.
After washing up, Heng Yu decided to go to Qingyun Temple for breakfast.
She walked through the ginkgo forest, bathed in the morning sun, and turned a corner, approaching the temple.
The morning bell rang softly in the ancient temple nestled in the mountains.
The temple was enveloped in smoke and mist.
In this moment, Qingyun Temple looked more beautiful than many sect’s paradises.
It was an ethereal beauty that calmed the heart.
A young novice was sweeping the ground. Heng Yu greeted him and entered the temple.
Passing by the bell tower, Heng Yu glanced over and saw a familiar figure gently striking the bell.
Liaowu wore simple gray robes, his demeanor reserved. He struck the bell at a steady rhythm, the resonant sound echoing throughout the temple.
From Heng Yu’s angle, she could clearly see his expression — devout and focused.
This Buddha-son of the Undying Sect didn’t show any arrogance.
Even performing such a mundane task, he was so serious and dedicated.
Heng Yu decided not to rush to the dining hall.
She stood quietly beside a ginkgo tree, waiting for Liaowu to finish.
After a while, Liaowu released the bell striker, took two steps back, joined his hands together, and chanted, “Amitabha.”
He turned around and, seeing Heng Yu standing nearby, a look of surprise flashed across his face.
He had sensed someone nearby while striking the bell, but since he hadn’t extended his divine sense, he assumed it was a novice from the temple. He hadn’t expected her to arrive so early.
Liaowu walked down the steps and approached Heng Yu, navigating the bushes.
“Good morning. I’m going to the dining hall for breakfast. Would you like to join me?” Heng Yu asked.
“Alright,” Liaowu replied.
After a pause, he added, “Good morning.”
They walked along the stone path to the dining hall.
The dining hall served only vegetarian food. Heng Yu took a bottle of soy milk and two steamed buns — charging it to Liaowu’s account.
Sitting at an empty table in a corner, Heng Yu took a sip of soy milk and brought up yesterday’s events. “Do you think that Fan Changping deserved to die?”
Liaowu evaded the question. “He had become a demon. If he lived, he would cause more killings.”
Heng Yu smiled. “Are those two words so hard to say? Senior Brother Liaowu, I suddenly suspect you’re feigning compassion.”
He said that if Fan Changping lived, he would cause more killings, which essentially meant Fan Changping deserved to die.
But he hadn’t said it directly, instead beating around the bush.
“Amitabha, this poor monk simply doesn’t wish to speak of harming or killing others.”
“I’ve heard this saying — The Vajra has a wrathful form to subdue demons; the Bodhisattva lowers their eyes in compassion for all beings. The Bodhisattva is compassionate, but killing those who deserve to die is also a form of compassion for the innocent.”
Liaowu would be traveling the world to preach Buddhist teachings. How could his journey be completely safe and without threats?
To complete her inner sect mission, she would also be traveling with him. She couldn’t possibly handle all the dangers alone.
So Heng Yu felt she needed to correct Liaowu’s flawed thinking.
Wasn’t killing those who deserved to die also a form of compassion?
Regardless of whether this reasoning was sound, as long as it was persuasive, it was good reasoning.
Thinking this, Heng Yu looked at Liaowu sincerely, waiting for his reaction.
Liaowu remained silent.
Heng Yu kicked him with her right foot.
Liaowu carefully dodged.
Heng Yu kicked again.
Liaowu stood up from the bench and chanted, “Amitabha.”
Seeing him about to take his steamed buns to another table, Heng Yu called out, “Come back. This time, I’ll only use words, not actions.”
Liaowu stood there, seemingly considering whether to believe her.
After a few breaths, he put the bowl of steamed buns back on the table and sat down silently.
“It’s like this.” Seeing that he was impervious to persuasion, Heng Yu had to break it down for him. “If you don’t want to kill, what will you do when you encounter danger?”
She was afraid Liaowu would retort that with his high cultivation level, he wouldn’t easily encounter danger. After all, Nascent Soul and Soul Formation cultivators mostly cultivated in seclusion. In this world, Core Formation was already a powerful realm.
Heng Yu quickly added, “Forget about you encountering danger. What if I or Little Monk Liaonian encounter danger?”
“Your refusal to kill is your compassion. But isn’t it cruel to me and Liaonian?”
“I’m not asking you to be bloodthirsty, I just want you to be flexible with your principles.”
Liaowu took a bite of the steamed bun.
The bun was soft and easy to eat.
The fragrance of flour filled his mouth as he chewed.
He pondered Heng Yu’s words: Did she mean that he should usually maintain the compassionate demeanor of a Bodhisattva, but also learn to be like the wrathful Vajra when facing danger?
He slowly swallowed the bun.
He looked up at Heng Yu and praised, “Lord Luo is truly eloquent.”
Heng Yu raised an eyebrow. “Did I win the argument?”
Liaowu paused slightly.
He was silent for a moment, then sighed softly.
“…You win. This poor monk will try to change in this aspect.”
Heng Yu couldn’t help but snap her fingers. “Good boy.”
Liaowu shook his head helplessly.
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