Chapter 47: What Does It Matter to You?

Returning home and finishing his meal, Chen Yi opened the vanity in his bedroom and placed a small box inside.

Holding a book and reading, Yin Tingxue noticed that the sandalwood box was exquisitely crafted, adorned with carvings of phoenixes and fragrant orchids, and could not help feeling curious.

"What is inside?" she asked.

"A hairpin," Chen Yi replied crisply and neatly.

Yin Tingxue tilted her head, failing to understand why he had suddenly bought a hairpin.

She did not think the hairpin was bought for her. A woman was traditionally betrothed around the age of fifteen and received her courtesy name upon pinning up her hair; if unbetrothed, she did so at twenty. Although she had been taken in as a concubine, her marriage had never been consummated, and perhaps it never would be.

She thought to herself that she had not yet reached twenty, so she could neither wear a hairpin nor receive a courtesy name.

Chen Yi glanced at the Princess of Xiang's daughter, smiled, and closed the cabinet. Come to think of it, she still lacked a courtesy name, remaining secluded in her maiden quarters.

For some reason, Yin Tingxue always felt that this fleeting smile carried malicious intent.

She turned her face away, refusing to look at him, and cast her gaze silently toward the door, looking in the direction of Yintai Temple.

In an instant, she recalled the fine snow of late autumn and early winter at Yintai Temple.

She was born precisely at that time, and her mother had said that back then, she wailed loudly amidst the sound of falling snow.

Her mother always said that falling snow possessed a Zen-like quality, which was why she was given the name "Tingxue," meaning "Listening to Snow."

Come to think of it, what did the sound of falling snow actually sound like? What on earth did the sound of instantly scattering petals resemble?

Yin Tingxue was lost in a trance.

Chen Yi glanced at his status panel and found that he was still five years short of true qi mastery, at which point the appointed day would arrive.

He casually patted Yin Tingxue's head, then swept his gaze over the book in her hands.

It was not some miscellaneous novel or fiction, but rather the very *Purple Medicine Elixir Manual* he had extorted from Yin Weiying.

She was actually reading such a book. Chen Yi shook his head with a wry smile. After laughing, he sat cross-legged on the bed, silently reciting the Supreme Heart Scripture, and began circulating it within his body.

Emptying his mind and banishing all distracting thoughts, Chen Yi sank his true qi into his lower dantian, cleared the acupuncture points throughout his body, and established a resonance with the primordial qi of heaven and earth.

A wave of piercing pain surged upward.

Chen Yi hissed, feeling the recurrent sensation of raging fire scorching his bones.

This pain originated from the strange poison afflicting his body. Chen Yi was well aware of this; the further one progressed in Daoist cultivation, the greater the hindrance posed by this bizarre poison.

He forcefully suppressed the pain, struggled to empty his mind, and continued to resonate with the primordial qi.

In Daoist cultivation, the most important thing was to merge as one with heaven and earth. The method to achieve this was to continuously sense the primordial qi, draw it into the acupuncture points of the entire body, and exhale it back to heaven and earth. If qi gathered, life persisted; if qi dispersed, death ensued. By balancing the surging qi, a Daoist master who had achieved success would find their qi flowing like the boundless waves of a mighty river, unceasing and continuous.

A comforting warmth arose in his dantian, flowing endlessly and inexhaustibly like a tide. Chen Yi's thoughts drifted, rising and falling, vaguely sensing a detached feeling of supreme self-forgetfulness.

When he dazedly regained his senses, it was already deep into the night.

Chen Yi wiped the sweat from his neck and, looking down, saw that Yin Tingxue had already fallen soundly asleep.

This meditation session had lasted for two or three hours.

As for the results...

Chen Yi held his breath, steadied his mind, and recited the heart sutra silently, noticing that the scene before his eyes appeared slower by about half a second.

"The results are mediocre, which probably has to do with me being a martial artist as well," Chen Yi muttered to himself.

For a martial artist, true qi circulated through the body's meridians and accumulated within the acupuncture points, having long since occupied the spaces where primordial qi ought to reside.

Therefore, apart from rare sects like Yinjian Mountain capable of dual cultivation in both the Dao and martial arts, ordinary people chose to cultivate either the Dao or martial arts exclusively.

"I still need to learn the Daoist techniques of Yinjian Mountain," Chen Yi sighed inwardly.

"If I remember correctly, I won't encounter her until I slay the evil flood dragon..."

If his memory served him right, during the major storyline of the Prayer Ritual Arena, three major spirits and demons hovered within and outside the capital: the ghost general Deng Ai was one, followed by the donkey-headed crown prince rumored to be the son of Wu Zetian, and finally the evil flood dragon, descendant of the Buddhist protective dragon kings.

To achieve a perfect clear of the Prayer Ritual Arena at present, it was necessary to eliminate the latter two, as well as the ancestor of the fox demons on the final day of the ritual.

Furthermore, resolving the aftermath of the bandit-suppressing and demon-slaying day would further secure the Empress Dowager's trust and lift the poison afflicting his body.

No matter what... he had to meet Zhou Yitang as soon as possible.

In any case, she would not remember the events of her past life.

In this lifetime... he would treat her better.

The Prayer Ritual Arena had reached its fifth day. Daoists from the Shangqing Sect and Yinjian Mountain had gathered in the capital one after another. In addition, numerous independent cultivators from the mountains and rivers had also arrived at the capital of Great Yu. For a time, the three major temples and seven Daoist monasteries were thriving with burning incense, resembling a grand Daoist assembly.

Yixiuxiu Manor had been bustling with activity over the past few days.

As a faction regarded by the world as untainted and upright, the Ding'an Party had always been favored and praised by literati and scholars. Since Yixiuxiu Manor was an estate belonging to the Prince of Jing's Mansion, it naturally became an elegant gathering place for the scholarly class.

Great Yu had always valued the Dao and slighted Buddhism. Ever since the founding emperor established the nation, Daoist temples and monasteries had sprung up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, each boasting a heritage spanning centuries. As long as the dynasty endured, they endured.

Under such influence, the trend of metaphysical cultivation flourished even more among the literati of Great Yu. Although Confucianism was a worldly philosophy, ever since Dong Zhongshu, it had attached extreme importance to the resonance between heaven and earth and humanity. Prognostication and apocrypha had flourished since the Zhou dynasty down to the present day, and in the current Great Yu, even greater importance was attached to ghosts and deities. Contemporaries frequently sighed that the customs of the Wei and Jin dynasties had revived.

To cater to the literati and scholars, Yixiuxiu Manor maintained a group of alchemists and fangshi who taught the methods of alchemy and Daoist cultivation.

However, the reason Yixiuxiu Manor could grow so large was certainly not relying solely on the praise of scholars. With ink on their brushes came blood on their blades; the predecessor of Yixiuxiu Manor was the capital's second-ranking Yixiu Martial Arts Hall, housing numerous experts possessing formidable and unique skills. The manor lord's eldest son, Feng Luo, was even a renowned young talent in the capital.

The autumn wind was crisp and refreshing. Outside of poetry gathering hours, figures were sparse outside Yixiuxiu Manor, with only a crowd of manor disciples and patrolling guards stationed at the gates.

Inside the estate, Manor Master Feng Ying was sipping tea while occasionally tossing a few pieces of dried meat from a jade plate for the black-furred mastiff lying on the ground to enjoy.

Feng Luo sat beside his father, embracing his sword with his eyes closed to preserve his energy and ponder the martial path.

"Master, the letter has already been delivered. That fellow named Min Ning has made no move; he is probably frightened," the estate steward said respectfully, standing not far from Manor Master Feng.

"I expected as much. The Prime Minister's case is a major case and also an old case; a conclusion was already reached during the reign of the late emperor. Even the Lin faction wouldn't dare make an issue of this case. What is a mere captain of the guard compared to that?" Manor Master Feng said calmly.

At this moment, his son Feng Luo opened one eye and said, "Father, I have heard of this person. He enjoys a small reputation in the capital, and his martial talent might not be inferior to that of the former Pacification Commissioner Min."

"Luo'er, that Pacification Commissioner Min you mentioned died precisely because of this case. If he is audacious enough to continue investigating, I fear his entire family of three generations will perish over the same case and have their lineage cut off. Young and hot-headed, unable to distinguish the heavy from the light, and ignorant of what should be investigated and what should not—such people are the easiest to die," Manor Master Feng sneered.

"Master and Young Master are entirely correct. Such a person puts on an embroidered uniform of the Brocaded Guard and fancies himself an actual official, but what kind of officials hasn't Master seen? Such minor officials aren't even qualified to cross the threshold of Yixiuxiu Manor," the steward flattered with a face full of smiles.

Manor Master Feng laughed heartily, drained his tea in one gulp, and tossed all the remaining dried meat to the black mastiff on the ground, which eagerly devoured it and barked happily twice.

"Speaking of which, how is the latest batch of cargo?"

"Reporting to Master, the last batch of immortal pills and elixirs sold exceptionally well. This latest batch is large in volume and has just arrived at the docks. They are currently being unloaded and transported to the estate one after another."

"Transported to the estate? Excellent, excellent. By the way," Manor Master Feng turned his head to look at his son, "Luo'er, you mentioned that fellow surnamed Min has a small reputation. How does his martial prowess compare to yours?"

Feng Luo smiled; father and son had no need for false modesty, so he arrogance gently, "I am a disciple of the Master of Magpie Pavilion, whereas he has no formal lineage or master. No matter how good his martial arts are, he is nothing more than ordinary."

Yixiuxiu Manor was located on the western side of the capital, close to the outer periphery. It covered a vast area, nestled against the mountains and facing the water, endowed with outstanding natural beauty. At present, in the depths of autumn, maple leaves covered the ground, creating a landscape dyed in layers of red when viewed from afar.

Outside the main gate appeared two Brocaded Guards, one closely following the other while leading a horse by the reins.

The Brocaded Guard thousand-householder rode a tall steed, with a long saber slung at his waist, crushing layers of withered yellow fallen leaves as he approached.

Several guard sentries immediately grew vigilant, with their leader stepping forward a pace, raising his spear to block the two men.

"Who goes there? Approaching Yixiuxiu Manor, why carry weapons? Whoever you are, you are not permitted to disturb this manor!"

The thousand-householder did not dismount. He swept a condescending glance over the guards, then looked toward Yixiuxiu Manor itself, only returning his gaze to the leader when the latter repeated his question.

"Approaching Yixiuxiu Manor, why carry weapons?"

"There's a dog barking inside. Go take care of it," the man said calmly.

The guard leader asked in puzzlement, "There's a dog barking inside, what business is that of mine?"

Only to see the thousand-householder offer a mocking smile, his slender fingers resting on the hilt of his saber, as he retorted, "Then what business is it of yours that I carry weapons?!"