Chapter 31: The Beginning of Change
Chapter 31: The Beginning of Change
As the world shifted, the martial realm grew more chaotic. Many who had cultivated internal power underwent changes, though these had yet to surface fully due to the slow passage of time.
Zuo Meng shut his little shop, deciding not to reopen for the foreseeable future.
The world’s upheaval was the moment he’d awaited for years. He planned to visit areas where the changes were most evident, aiming to break free from the two-century limit of his internal power without relying on his creator abilities. By gathering insights from the transforming world and other martial experts, he hoped to pave the way for altering the real world in the future.
“Closed again?!”
The moment the door shut, Zhi Hua’s voice rang out behind him, dripping with disbelief.
She knew her lazy uncle was idle, but this was too much. Glancing at the sky, she noted it was barely morning!
“Zhi Hua.”
Zuo Meng turned with a faint smile. The girl had grown over the years, becoming a familiar presence who often helped at the shop, saving him considerable trouble—if only she’d stop pestering him about finding her a ‘master.’
“After years of diligent study, I’ll head to the capital once more. When I top the exams, I’ll ask the Emperor to grant you a golden-match husband.”
Diligent study?
Zhi Hua’s mind buzzed with questions. In seven years, she’d never seen him hold a book. He’d always been sprawled in his chair like a lazy fish. Was this just an excuse to squander his earnings in the capital?
“The autumn exams ended weeks ago! What ‘exam’ are you even taking?”
“Farewell. We’ll meet again if fate allows.”
Zuo Meng waved, offering no further explanation. He hoisted his bag and strode away.
“Mr. Xue is taking the imperial exams?”
A woman in a black gown approached. Yu Linglong had known Zuo Meng for years. Once a bride-to-be whose fiancé drowned before their wedding, she’d gained a reputation as a widow of ill omen after two more betrothals ended in tragedy. Defying gossip, she’d built a thriving gambling den in Suzhou through sheer grit, silencing troublemakers along the way.
The once-pitied widow now commanded fear as ‘Madam Yu.’ She’d met Zuo Meng three years ago during a rainstorm, buying a painting from his shop. Over time, she became a regular patron, drawn by the unassuming store’s occasional masterpieces.
“Miss Yu.” Zuo Meng nodded politely.
“With your talents, you’ll surely rank first. May your name resound across the land.”
With no more paintings to acquire, Yu Linglong saw little reason to visit anymore.
“Your blessings are appreciated. Take care.”
Without delay, Zuo Meng departed the city.
Leaving An Leju was but the first step.
The world’s transformation had only just begun.
Cold Mountain Temple
Once a hub for spreading internal power under Zuo Meng’s influence, the temple had declined after its recent schism. Jie Ming stole the ‘source stone’ of internal power from Zuo Meng, establishing his own sect. As Jie Ming’s profound skills flourished, the temple became a symbol of failure. In desperation, Jie Nian sought help from ‘Scholar Xue,’ only to find the man was merely an ordinary person with basic internal power, clueless about the source stone’s secrets. Defeated, Jie Nian returned empty-handed.
Night
Jie Nian sat alone in the meditation hall.
As a martial monk, he’d once scorned this place as fit only for mediocrities. But since Jie Ming’s betrayal, he’d grown quieter, drawn increasingly to the hall’s silence. Slowly, he began embodying the aura of esteemed monks, unraveling Buddhist wisdom that hinted at why Jie Ming had abandoned their clan.
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“Amitabha.”
Setting down the wooden mallet, Jie Nian exited the hall. He glanced back at the Buddha statue and murmured the Buddhist chant.
“Brother, we found an underground palace in the Blackwood Forest!”
A young little monk rushed in. His name was Jie Cheng, a new disciple at Cold Mountain Temple who joined after Jie Ming’s betrayal. He belonged to the Jie generation.
“Outside Suzhou, in the Blackwood Forest.”
Jie Nian remembered the night he left the little shop in Suzhou, when Mr. Xue had told him:
“If you truly care about the source, search the Blackwood Forest outside Suzhou. I found this source stone there.”
Because of these words, Jie Nian had sent people to scour the Blackwood Forest for years. To his surprise, they’d actually uncovered a secret.
Around the same time,
inside a dim underground gambling den in Suzhou, Yu Linglong reclined behind a red silk curtain, her legs visible as a subordinate reported to her.
“So someone really found an underground palace in that forest outside the city?”
“It’s true. I saw the underground palace myself.”
The masked man in black kept his head lowered. He knew better than anyone how dangerous this venomous beauty was. Every man who’d dared admire her looks had met a grim end—several by his own hand.
“Send Luo San to investigate.”
“Yes.”
The masked man vanished into the shadows.
“How amusing. Has an immortal descended to our world?”
Yu Linglong walked to a wall hung with paintings bought from Zuo Meng’s little shop. At first, she’d simply found them mysterious. But lately, the ink landscapes seemed alive. Whenever she neared them, she heard flowing water—yet when she listened carefully, the sounds vanished.
“So Mr. Xue isn’t ordinary after all. What secrets is he hiding?”
Yu Linglong wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Zhi Hua, who owned the most paintings, also sensed something wrong.
Unlike Yu Linglong, Zhi Hua had actually stepped inside a painting. The strange experience nearly scared the little girl to death.
Darkness surrounded her. Mountains made of ink loomed as black rivers flowed. Ink-wash bamboo leaves rustled in an unseen breeze.
“Where is this?”
Zhi Hua trembled, tears welling up. She’d been painting in her room moments ago—how did she end up here?
“Did a monster catch me?”
Growing up on tales of man-eating monsters from street storytellers, the little girl immediately thought of demons.