Chengying

Fifty years is enough for an ordinary person to go through three generations, from childhood to old age; for a cultivator, it is just a blink of an eye.

Ying Wuchou silently calculated. Before he fell into slumber, his youngest disciple, Ning Chengying, had just reached the Foundation Establishment stage. If he diligently cultivated over these fifty years, he should have broken through to the Golden Core stage by now.

As for whether he has reached the Nascent Soul stage, that would depend on Ning Chengying’s luck.

Ying Wuchou has a total of seven disciples. Fifty years ago, six of them had already left the sect to explore the cultivation world, leaving only the youngest disciple, Ning Chengying, who had only been in the sect for twenty years, staying behind in the Hidden Valley.

A cultivator only truly enters the path of cultivation after reaching the Foundation Establishment stage. Ying Wuchou only felt at ease closing himself off in seclusion after his youngest disciple reached this stage, waiting for the end of his life.

When the temple was built, Ying Wuchou’s health was already very poor, so he did not leave the Hidden Valley to attend the ceremony.

However, Ning Chengying was still young and went down the mountain to join in the fun. When he came back, he said something very strange.

“Master, when I stood in front of that statue, I had a very strange feeling, as if I were being sternly watched by you.”

Ning Chengying was born with a strong spiritual sense. He opened his spiritual eyes at the age of three and could communicate with spirits and gods. He was a prodigy who could enter the path of cultivation even without guidance.

When Ying Wuchou met Ning Chengying, the little disciple was only ten years old. He would go to the cemetery outside the village every midnight to dig up graves, looking for corpses with heavy resentment to absorb the corpse qi.

Given another three to five years, Ning Chengying would probably have turned himself into a living corpse, walking down an evil path without a teacher.

Ning Chengying could see special qi. Spiritual qi exists between heaven and earth, invisible and colorless, and can only be sensed through cultivated spiritual awareness. But in Ning Chengying’s eyes, the qi in the world had different colors. Spiritual qi was between light blue and light green; the more abundant the spiritual qi, the closer the color was to dark blue.

Resentment qi was black. Young Ning Chengying saw it as the most concentrated form of spiritual qi and cultivated it with great enthusiasm.

The most terrifying thing was that Ning Chengying saw a faint spiritual qi in the medicinal herbs taken by sick people, believing that spiritual qi could cure illnesses.

His idea wasn’t wrong, but he regarded resentment qi and corpse qi as the most concentrated spiritual qi, digging graves at midnight to absorb corpse qi to cure his father’s illness.

Seeing Ning Chengying infuse resentment qi into his already gravely ill father, Ying Wuchou, who had sworn not to take any more disciples, couldn’t stand by and watch this human tragedy unfold. He intervened to save Ning Chengying’s father and took away the child full of corpse qi, guiding him onto the right path.

A genius without proper guidance can cause more harm to the world than the most heinous criminal.

Since Ning Chengying found the statue strange, there must be something wrong.

Ying Wuchou guessed the reason at the time but didn’t pay much attention to it.

Ning Chengying said, “The statue looks like Master is watching me,” which meant the statue was definitely related to Ying Wuchou.

Back then, knowing he might not live to see the emergence of the Teng Jiao, Ying Wuchou left a piece of scale that had once connected to his vision near the small town.

When the Teng Jiao emerged, even if he were dead, that piece of scale “seeing” the young Teng Jiao would be as if he had seen it himself.

The scale was about a foot long, each piece shaped differently, with ancient secret techniques engraved on both sides. The words of the secret technique were tiny, with about a thousand words on each scale. If it weren’t for Ying Wuchou being blind for so long, with exceptionally sensitive touch, he might not have been able to discern each word.

After refining seven pieces of scale, the thing seemed to recognize its master, and the writings on it completely disappeared, leaving a smooth surface.

To hide the secret technique, it had a special ability to merge with stone upon contact. No matter where it was thrown, the scale would find a suitable stone and slowly integrate into it.

The three-meter-high jade stone used to carve the statue in the town probably contained that piece of scale.

The scale once connected to Ying Wuchou’s vision, so the highly intuitive Ning Chengying felt like he was being “watched by Master.”

Ying Wuchou came to the tavern just to find out how many years he had been asleep, not expecting to find the first piece of scale so quickly. His luck was really good.

He tapped his finger lightly on the table, intending to retrieve his scale from the temple. Just as he was about to get up, he remembered he hadn’t brought any money.

In the past, he would keep some silver coins in his sleeve for emergencies. But before he fell asleep, he was about to die, having sent his eyes, nose, and ears away. How could he have brought money?

Now, he had nothing but the single garment he wore, the jade slip in his sleeve, and the scale at his waist.

Thinking of this, Ying Wuchou slowly sat back down and continued to eat peanuts leisurely.

He didn’t want to use illusions to conjure fake coins to fool the shopkeeper, as it didn’t align with Ying Wuchou’s principles.

Moreover, it was just a few coins, easily resolved.

From Ying Wuchou’s experience, if he sat in the tavern a little longer, acted a bit more elegantly, someone would soon come to pay his bill and invite him to their home for a chat.

Ying Wuchou knew he naturally exuded the aura of a master, and ordinary people always wanted to befriend him. He was quite used to this situation.

At this moment, the waiter ran over.

Ying Wuchou’s hand holding the chopsticks trembled slightly, worried the waiter was coming to collect the bill.

The waiter said eagerly, “Sir, your cup is empty. Shall I refill it for you?”

Ying Wuchou calmly put down his chopsticks and said, “No need.”

He tucked the loose hair behind his ear, pressed down the wide sleeve on his right side with his left hand, and picked up the cup, pouring himself a drink.

The waiter watched him, rubbing his hands, and asked, “Sir, your drink has gone cold. Shall I warm it up for you?”

Is this person urging for money? Ying Wuchou glanced coldly over the waiter’s eager face and said coolly, “When I need you, I’ll call.”

“Okay, sir.” The waiter cautiously glanced at those amber eyes, grabbed a rag, and reluctantly left to attend to other customers.

Ying Wuchou’s peripheral vision followed the waiter, realizing the tavern had unknowingly filled up with people.

When he arrived, there were only two or three tables of guests, but now it was full.

Even outside the tavern, there were people gathered.

Were the people outside waiting for a table? With so many people lined up, no wonder the waiter was urging him to leave. Ying Wuchou thought to himself.

If this continued, he would surely be kicked out, and not being able to pay would compromise his dignity as a master in the cultivation world.

“Waiter,” Ying Wuchou called.

“Yes, coming!” The waiter left the customer he was attending and swiftly slid over to Ying Wuchou, moving so fast that Ying Wuchou wondered if he practiced some light-footed martial arts.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

Ying Wuchou looked at him calmly, “Your tavern is quite crowded.”

“It’s not usually this busy,” the waiter said.

Ying Wuchou said, “If there’s no room, I can share my table.”

He moved the wine pot and peanuts to make room for half the table.

Since he could share the table, the tavern couldn’t use the excuse of being full to kick him out. Ying Wuchou thought.

As soon as he spoke, the people in the tavern began to stir. A well-dressed man with an oily face and a fan was the quickest, grabbing his wine pot and sitting across from Ying Wuchou, claiming the spot.

“I was just worried about having nowhere to drink. Thank you, brother,” said the well-dressed man.

Ying Wuchou glanced at his luxurious attire and nodded slightly, “Hmm.”

“Move along,” the well-dressed man opened his fan, blocking the waiter’s view, and said coldly, “Go somewhere else. Don’t get in my way.”

The waiter, not daring to offend this obviously wealthy guest, had to leave.

The well-dressed man said to Ying Wuchou, “Brother, it’s fate that we share a table today. An invitation is better than a chance encounter. Let me host this meal. Would you do me the honor?”

The offer to pay had come, hadn’t it? Ying Wuchou smiled faintly, raised his cup, and made a toast in the air to the well-dressed man.

“Is this a yes?” The well-dressed man’s eyes lit up, “May I know your esteemed name, brother? I am…”

“Master!” A clear voice came from the door. Ying Wuchou looked over to see a boy who appeared to be sixteen or seventeen entering the tavern, heading straight for him.

The boy wore a sky-blue outfit with a white crane embroidered on the collar, its wings covering the shoulders, making it look like a white crane flying across a sky-blue expanse. His waist was cinched with a black belt, embedded with a red jade, resembling a red eye.

He was tall, with his hair tied high, a wisp of fringe falling on his forehead, giving him a youthful and vibrant appearance, making him stand out.

Judging by his appearance, this person was none other than Ying Wuchou’s seventh disciple, Ning Chengying.

Ning Chengying was exceptionally talented, reaching the Foundation Establishment stage in less than seven years after joining the sect. After reaching this stage, a cultivator’s aging process slows down, so even after many years, Ning Chengying still looked like a young boy.

Even Ying Wuchou, who was waiting for death, looked no older than his early twenties.

Ning Chengying came to Ying Wuchou’s table, carefully examining him before saying, “Seeing so many people gathered here, I thought something had happened. I didn’t expect to find Master here. Disciple…”

Ying Wuchou stared at his face for a moment, then showed a mysterious smile.

“Chengying, did you bring any money?” he asked.

Ning Chengying paused, rummaged through his belt, sleeves, and collar, finally finding a money pouch. He pulled out a piece of silver and placed it on the table.

Ying Wuchou felt relieved, stood up, and said, “No need for change.”

“Huh?” The well-dressed man who wanted to treat stood up, watching Ying Wuchou leave the tavern with longing eyes.

Ning Chengying followed behind Ying Wuchou. Seeing the well-dressed man trying to follow, he casually drew a long flute and held it horizontally in front of him, coldly saying, “Scram!”

His aura was full of killing intent, causing the well-dressed man to stop, not daring to follow Ying Wuchou.

After leaving the tavern, Ning Chengying respectfully said to Ying Wuchou, “Master, there were too many people just now, and I couldn’t perform the kneeling salute. Please forgive me.”

“We don’t have so many cumbersome rules in our sect.” Ying Wuchou looked at Ning Chengying’s “respectful” face, his smile growing even more enigmatic.

Ning Chengying felt a bit uneasy under his smile, lowering his head even more, avoiding eye contact with Ying Wuchou.

“Chengying, how many years has it been since we last met?” Ying Wuchou asked.

“Huh?” Ning Chengying was slightly stunned, then his eyes darted as he said, “Disciple has been out training for many years. In the cultivation world, time is irrelevant, and I can’t calculate how long it’s been since I left.”

“I don’t remember either.” Ying Wuchou said, “Chengying, do you remember the instructions I gave you when you left the Hidden Valley?”

“This…” Ning Chengying, a cultivator at least at the Golden Core stage, broke into a cold sweat on his forehead.

Just then, the two of them arrived at a secluded spot, and Ning Chengying knelt on one knee, cupping his hands, “Disciple is unfilial, having forgotten Master’s teachings. Please punish me.”

Ying Wuchou looked at the kneeling boy and couldn’t help but raise his hand to stroke his chin.

With just one look, he recognized that this person was not Ning Chengying.

He knew his disciple well. When Ying Wuchou entered his turtle breathing meditation, he had sent away the other disciples, leaving only the low-powered Ning Chengying in the Hidden Valley, instructing him to leave the valley once his power was sufficient.

Ning Chengying had watched Ying Wuchou enter meditation, knowing his master was about to die. How could he possibly just show respect without clinging to his leg and wailing?

This person impersonating Ning Chengying had the appearance and voice down to a tee, even mimicking the respectful yet rebellious demeanor Ning Chengying showed his senior brothers.

But towards Ying Wuchou, Ning Chengying was genuinely obedient and wouldn’t be so distant and polite.

Being able to impersonate Ning Chengying and actively reveal himself to Ying Wuchou, even paying for him, showed that this person was very familiar with Ning Chengying and confident in his impersonation, unafraid of being exposed.

Impersonating Ning Chengying and interacting with those familiar with him must have a motive.

Ying Wuchou had already distributed his treasures to his disciples before his death, and as a dying man, he couldn’t think of anything worth coveting.

This was quite interesting.

“Why are you kneeling? Get up.” Ying Wuchou gently helped the reluctant “Ning Chengying” to his feet.

As soon as “Ning Chengying” stood up, he saw Ying Wuchou’s clothes and instinctively took a step back. He then forced himself to control his actions, averting his gaze, and asked Ying Wuchou, “Why is Master dressed like this?”

“This…” Ying Wuchou looked down at his attire, realizing he was still wearing his clothes from the valley, even barefoot.

The Hidden Valley was his home, so dressing comfortably was normal, but he should have been more presentable when going out.

It was just that he was in such a hurry to find the young Jiao, he grabbed the transparent scale and left, not thinking to put on more clothes.

Fortunately, the person in front of him wasn’t his real disciple; otherwise, where would the master’s dignity be?

Facing the fake Ning Chengying, Ying Wuchou felt more at ease, waved his sleeve, and said, “A cultivator takes heaven and earth as his home, acting as he pleases. Clothes and shoes are just external objects. Chengying, you’re too attached.”

“Master’s teachings are correct.” “Ning Chengying” respectfully said.

“But since we’re in the mortal world, we must adhere to secular etiquette. You should buy some clothes for me.” Ying Wuchou said.

“Ning Chengying” seemed relieved, quickly turning away, and soon returned with several new, plain clothes.

He didn’t run? It seemed the fake Ning Chengying really wanted to spend some time with him. Ying Wuchou was a bit curious.

Ying Wuchou chose a white outer garment to wear, along with a pair of white shoes. He tied his hair casually, transforming from a lazy, carefree person into a lofty, otherworldly immortal.

Seeing him like this, “Ning Chengying” finally relaxed, appearing more willing to interact with this version of Ying Wuchou.

“Chengying, what brings you to this small town?” Ying Wuchou asked, probing the fake Ning Chengying’s intentions.

“Ning Chengying” said, “I came to visit Master in the Hidden Valley. Passing through the town, I suddenly wanted to eat some mortal food. I didn’t expect to meet Master, and I’m overjoyed.”

Came to find me? Impersonating Ning Chengying, was it to find me? An enemy from fifty years ago?

Ying Wuchou pondered for a long time but couldn’t recall having any enemies.

Since they were targeting him, he decided to keep them close and observe their motives.

Ying Wuchou’s amber eyes swept over “Ning Chengying’s” face, unable to discern what method the other used to disguise himself.

But to be so similar, either he practiced a technique that could alter bones and appearance, or he wore Ning Chengying’s skin.

If it were the former, Ning Chengying might still be alive. If it were the latter, Ning Chengying was likely already reincarnated.

Thinking of this, Ying Wuchou raised his hand, gently touching “Ning Chengying’s” face, his fingers exploring around his ear.

If he wore skin, no matter how seamless, there would be traces of joining. Ying Wuchou, blind and deaf for many years, had an exceptionally sensitive touch, and no matter how small the gap, it couldn’t escape him.

He examined boldly and naturally, while “Ning Chengying” was momentarily stunned, showing an expression of “so this is the kind of relationship between master and disciple.”

“Mas-Master, what… what are you doing?” he stammered.

Ying Wuchou, unable to find any seams, regretfully withdrew his hand and said calmly, “Naturally, I’m taking a good look at a disciple I haven’t seen in a long time.”

“Look?” “Ning Chengying” raised his hand to touch his ear, the sensation from earlier still lingering on his skin.

Ying Wuchou sighed, “Chengying, have you forgotten? My life is nearing its end, my vision worsens by the day, and I can’t see clearly.”

Author’s Note:

Fake Ning Chengying (worldview shattered): Is this the kind of relationship between Ning Chengying and his master?

Ying Wuchou: Maybe not with Chengying, but with you… who knows?