Chapter 95: The Book of Repentance, The True Solution

A letter of confession was gripped in the claws of a crow as it cut through the thin mountain mist, flew over the many peaks bowing towards Violet Summit, and finally arrived above the Capital Waters, where it loosened its grip.

With a splash, the letter fell into the water and dissolved into a pool of pulp.

Suddenly, a hand reached up from the murky depths, scooping through the pulpy mess, and pulled out a spectral, intangible scroll.

Thus, this letter of confession traveled by waterway, passing through numerous places, until it finally reached the Crane Watch at the Crane-Ming Sect.

When the letter arrived at the Crane Watch, Master Feihu was at the back of the mountain, busy by the furnace with his three personal disciples, refining medicinal pellets—a labor that had kept them toiling for quite some time.

Master Feihu sat on a meditation mat, his robe open, his legs folded in the manner of a crane, sipping a little wine, and holding a fire-fanning fan to his chest, looking completely at ease.

His three disciples bustled about in front of the furnace, their faces smudged with ash.

The eldest disciple, who had a fly-whisk tucked into his sash, asked, "Master, is this batch of medicinal powder still to be sent to the Lanyin Branch?"

"Naturally!"

The old master nodded in satisfaction and said, "That Suluozi has always held himself in high regard, thinking himself above it all and in control of everything. He forgets that a leaf can obscure the mountain, and two beans can block the thunder’s roar.

He clings too tightly to the path of the Celestials, and thus falls into a lesser fate—allowing me to seize the opportunity and set the current game in motion."

"Who wouldn’t care about those who obstruct their own path?" grumbled the second disciple, who had a bronze scraper at his waist, scratching his temples in exasperation.

The eldest disciple moved closer to the old master, concern in his voice. "We've been selling off several batches of medicinal powder in the Lanyin Branch, all specially refined for those itinerants. If this keeps up, I fear..."

"Go on."

"I fear those itinerants, unable to restrain the demonic nature within the powder by virtue alone, will all become monstrous in form, turning the Daoist examinations at the Lanyin Branch into utter chaos."

"Haha!"

The old master laughed. "It’s already chaos.

Our friction with the Panhu Mountain sect at Guancai Cave has been going on for over a decade. Such a situation has already left the hearts of those in the Lanyin Branch unsettled.

The main sect has lowered the difficulty of Daoist examinations, allowing even those itinerants to join the registry and become members of the branch—a bid to win their loyalty.

If we keep selling so much of the medicinal powder, and if it ruins Taiping Mountain’s grand plan, the main sect will surely hold us accountable—"

The fire-fanning fan in the old master’s hand stilled as he said darkly, "When Suluozi threatened the local spirits and scoured the mountains to locate the Celestials, did Taiping Mountain ever question him?

When he privately granted the mountain ghosts of Dangerous Bird Mountain the right to the Underworld Soil, and secretly passed on the exclusive treasures of the Underworld Division, did Taiping Mountain ever interfere?

In the end, is it not because Suluozi has the protection of that Underworld Division god behind him? Even his forbidden longevity techniques have been overlooked, so what’s the harm in these lesser matters?"

The more Master Feihu spoke, the angrier he became, cursing, "Even if that villain is truly the spawn of ghosts and gods, the Crane Watch is not without its own backing! Why should we fear him?"

Just as he was ranting, the letter of confession was delivered.

"Look, my little disciple, far away in the outer provinces, still remembers to send me a letter of confession as a family message!"

The old master laughed heartily, but suddenly his expression changed slightly as a thought crossed his mind.

He picked up the insubstantial letter, thinking to himself, "How long has it been? Has that boy already achieved the Qi Blossom?"

He distinctly remembered writing in the secret script of the Crane Control Art: upon achieving the Qi Blossom, reverse-train the demonic transformation with both palms, then submit a letter of confession by river as notification.

"Three Blossoms Gather at the Crown!"

His brows relaxed, and he read on carefully.

"The Crane Control Qi can now circulate throughout the body, solid and whole—the mark of perfect mastery of the secret technique."

He tossed aside his fan and read the letter word by word, unable to contain his joy, which made the three disciples exceedingly curious.

"Excellent! To be favored by the Grandmaster and reside in the Furnace Ruins Cave—this is the treatment my beloved disciple deserves. The Grandmaster’s eye for talent never fails!"

Suddenly his smile faded. Looking at the letter, he pondered, "Carrying the Filthy Gold Bottle by the Grandmaster’s side, to attend the Immortal Banquet at the Palace of Overcast Heavens..."

"Is the Grandmaster’s favor not too great?"

On his meditation cushion before the furnace, the old master grew restless, fearing that his beloved disciple, now seeing the wider world, would not withstand temptation and would end up pledging loyalty to the Grandmaster.

The three disciples, seeing their master’s changing expressions, stole glances at the letter.

"Zhong Chengzi!" the eldest disciple cried.

Prompted by his disciple, the old master quickly read the final lines and could no longer sit still. "If that ghost-god Zhong Chengzi is hosting the banquet, Suluozi will certainly attend. My beloved disciple..."

The old master was flustered, looking up at the sky—this was truly beyond his control.

Not only was Ji Ming to attend the ghost-god’s immortal banquet, but the Grandmaster’s extraordinary favor toward him was far beyond comprehension.

"Are the Celestials truly so exceptional?!"

On a half-acre swath of yellow cloud, Ji Ming, sleeves hanging wide, cradled the Filthy Gold Bottle, manipulating the Crane Control Art to wrap his body in a layer of qi, shielding himself from the fierce astral winds above.

Beside him, Susu and Li Muru also stood upon the cloud mat.

Ahead, the local Grandmaster and Master Fire Dragon were seated in meditation. Ji Ming glanced about, peering at the swirling clouds below.

Unlike his past life as a centipede demon, or the life before as a crow spirit—where he often flew no more than a few hundred meters above ground—now he soared at several thousand meters at least.

"If I were to fall from here..."

Ji Ming withdrew his gaze, about to close his eyes for some rest, when Li Muru approached.

"I didn’t expect Master to entrust the precious bottle to an outsider like you."

"Does this trouble you?" Ji Ming replied.

Of all in the Furnace Ruins Cave, Li Muru, the third disciple, should be the least bothered by this—for she was the one least favored or cultivated by the Grandmaster.

"I’m not bothered, but my senior sister is. This may be one of the few things she truly cares about."

Li Muru seemed to be in good spirits, perhaps finding comfort in seeing her senior sister left out, just as she herself often was.

"Here!"

She produced three Void Flowers—their medicinal heads used to practice the Mirage Art—and stuffed them into Ji Ming’s arms. "If you have the fortune to steadily advance the Mirage Art to the level of true spellcraft, its future potential will rival your Crane Control Art."

Moved by the sight above the clouds, Ji Ming, rarely candid with outsiders, confessed, "At my current stage of qi cultivation, maintaining two secret arts is already taxing. To advance to spellcraft, I may have to take a more unorthodox path."

"Reverse cultivation?!"

Li Muru eyed him twice, puzzled. "I bear a deep blood feud and still dare not attempt such a method, yet you, still wet behind the ears, dare to take this dangerous road?"

Her face grew stern. "It must be that Wei Wulan instigated you! He himself never mastered it, yet dares to mislead others."

Li Muru’s nature was truly enigmatic to Ji Ming. Call her bad, and she dared to spy on rituals and saints; call her good, and she still possessed a touch of chivalrous indignation.

Humans truly are the most contradictory creatures, defying simple definitions of good or evil.

Yet for this very reason, compelling stories arise, making this world ever more unpredictable and wondrous.

"It wasn’t Brother Wei’s instigation, but rather, I have no choice."

As he spoke, Ji Ming lowered his head and sniffed each of the three Void Flowers in turn. The crystalline blooms, once inhaled, melted into wisps of white smoke that flowed into his nostrils.

Ji Ming’s body grew ethereal, as if it could be scattered by the slightest breeze.

Li Muru watched Ji Ming practicing the Mirage Art while conversing with her, and couldn’t help but marvel at his determination—it was as unyielding as iron or stone.

For the Mirage Art was unlike other secret arts; it was not a physical discipline, but one of the spirit.

Upon inhaling the Void Flower’s essence, the practitioner would enter illusions—perhaps feeling the bite of knives, being smeared with filth, or buried in venomous insects.

Only by enduring and breaking these illusions could one reach the stage of minor accomplishment in the Mirage Art.

"Aren’t you Master Feihu’s disciple?! Let him give you a spirit crane to help you forge a Dao Viscera—that’s the proper path for advancing to spellcraft."

"Dao bones are innate; Dao viscera are cultivated after birth. In any case—difficult! Difficult! Difficult!"

In the small blessed land of the Crane Watch, there were precious few spirit cranes left.

As the old master himself put it, most of them were ancient matriarchs, with little desire to breed; their shed feathers had to be collected for refining powder, and he could hardly bear to use one to forge a Dao Viscera.

Even the old master himself had resorted to reverse cultivation to master spellcraft—only to find the process flawed, leaving him permanently with crane’s feet that could not return to human form.