Chapter 43: The Insect Ledger Method

The furnishings inside the room carried an air of antiquity; the wooden table was strewn with discarded papers. Chongchong, at least one meter sixty tall—just as tall as Ma Yuan—found standing to write uncomfortable, so she sat down as well.

"Emm..." Ma Yuan observed, glancing alternately between Gu Yi's work and Chongchong's brushwork, falling into deep doubt about himself.

"This round doesn't count," Ma Yuan handed Chongchong a fresh sheet of paper. "You wrote it out in one go, purely by luck. No, that's no good—you have to try again."

Gu Yi looked at the balding figure sprawled on the table. Though his height matched Chongchong's, he was broader, unmistakably an adult; yet here he was, resorting to shameless antics with a young girl.

Guests from the Immortal Cultivation Institute arrived quickly: Chen Mingguang and Wu Gang. The former held a wooden box in his hand.

"I merely walked along Tianmu Street from the Institute to the Imperial Treasures Pavilion, and on the way, heard countless people mention your nickname—Little Waist, Gu?"

At those words, Chongchong's brush paused, her face awkward, large eyes darting sideways to sneak a cautious look at Gu Yi. Seeing nothing amiss, she breathed a sigh of relief. Yet this fleeting distraction cost her the focus and inspiration from moments before; the black ink lost its subtle connection to the world.

"Hahaha," Ma Yuan slapped the table excitedly. "See, Master, I told you Chongchong was just guessing. To write it in one go—how could that be possible?"

His excitement was like a fool finally proving his intelligence.

"I can do it!" Chongchong protested, pursing her lips tightly, announcing loudly, "The secret to writing these things is just like bookkeeping!"

"Just like bookkeeping? Why?"

"Because when you keep accounts, what you write isn't words—it's money!"

Do not see them as mere characters.

Gu Yi understood what Chongchong meant to convey.

Chen Mingguang and Wu Gang were about to speak, but Gu Yi stopped them, hushing them and leading the pair to the other side of the window.

Better let them try their hand at writing.

Chen Mingguang glanced at the two, and amidst the slow passage of time, there was a sense of tranquility.

No... something was off.

"I can't take this humiliation!" wailed Ma Yuan.

"...How could it be like this? You, you, you—try again! I don't believe it. If even bookkeepers can write it, why can't I, Master Ma?"

...

"They... are learning to draw talismans?"

Gu Yi smiled, "Yes, it's fine, don’t mind them. But what brings you here? Is Fan Ling coming to fulfill his promise—to have you take me to see the curator?"

At this, Chen Mingguang and Wu Gang exchanged glances.

"The Talent Master has exhausted his spiritual energy and hasn't woken up yet. You... are already back to normal?"

"So I said long ago, he couldn't defeat me."

Chen Mingguang exclaimed in wonder, "Brother Gu, I have always held myself in high regard, and among my peers, few surpass me by a whole realm. Forgive my ignorance, I did not see your origins—defeating the Talent Master, it's beyond anyone's imagination."

Now it was clear that talent could be found outside Luyang Institute as well.

"He wasn't strong—what was there to fear?" Gu Yi's interest was piqued by what Chen held in his hand. "What are you carrying?"

"Oh." Chen Mingguang opened the box. "This is Jade Skin Ointment. Wu Gang says that, in truth, it was us who implicated you, provoking the Talent Master. Since you were injured this time, this medicine should be of some use."

---

"Thanks. Then I won't stand on ceremony."

Direct people need not be shy.

"Speaking of which, I've heard the young miss recount many tales of the Immortal Cultivation Institute these past days. After the battle behind the rain, I suspect many are itching to teach me a lesson at the Institute, aren’t they?"

"Actually..."

Wu Gang was a silent sort, and now Chen Mingguang hesitated.

"We aren’t here to invite you on behalf of the Talent Master, but to advise you not to go."

Gu Yi’s expression remained calm.

Chen Mingguang knew well enough that persuasion would likely be futile.

But to not try would be remiss.

"The Institute's Method Pavilion has tens of thousands of volumes, and outsiders are rarely allowed entry. Brother Gu, you broke that rule, and many... are holding a grudge."

"Wu Gang and I are third-year students—old hands in the Institute, but now with little hope of staying and soon to leave. Above us are the Floor Masters, and above them, the Method Pavilion, the Talisman Path, and the Sword and Sword seniors."

Gu Yi toyed with the porcelain cup in his hand, then drained it in one gulp.

"The rest aren't my concern. Fan Ling said if I won, he'd take me to see the curator. I only care about the curator—the Fourth Princess of Daxu."

"You definitely can't beat her," said Wu Gang, a burly man, with a hint of fear.

"I never said I wanted to beat her—I asked what kind of person she is."

"Really, there's no chance, Brother Gu. The Fourth Princess is entirely devoted to the Immortal Way, and... years ago, was deceived by a heartless man. She dislikes men. Wu Gang... he's a bit impulsive, and once blurted out, 'Why should men be disliked?'"

"He angered the curator, and luckily he's not particularly handsome—otherwise, he'd have been beaten even worse."

Wu Gang's eyelid twitched; that seemed a 'pleasant' memory.

Gu Yi was shocked:

Being ugly finally has an advantage?

Goodness, that puts immense pressure on me.

"So, Brother Gu, you’d best not go. The Fourth Princess reveres the Immortal Way, and would never allow the Method Pavilion to be casually entered. With your personality... if you clash with her, and she dislikes men..."

Chen Mingguang dared not deny the possibility.

After all, to stand off against the Talent Master in the street was unprecedented.

"Outsiders don’t know, but we've heard tales of the curator and Floor Master—they are polar opposites," Chen Mingguang lowered his voice.

"Tell me."

"The curator never lets a handsome man off; the Seventeenth Floor Master never lets a handsome man off."

There's something to that.

"If those two switched roles, things would be much simpler," Gu Yi crossed his arms, troubled by his own excessive looks.

But after thinking it over, would it really make him give up the Method Pavilion?

Beating Fan Ling was hard enough; should he not claim the greatest benefit?

Impossible. That would be a waste.

---

"I will go. It concerns my future path of cultivation."

The decision was made.

Chen Mingguang shook his head in resignation; in truth, he and Wu Gang had already guessed Gu Yi's choice before speaking.

"At most, I'll behave myself in front of that prejudiced, lifelong single woman."

Chen Mingguang sighed.

"May we know why you must risk going to the Method Pavilion? Even if you wish to, joining the Institute is best—you’d be an insider, free to study any method."

Gu Yi sought an ancient text that Xiaoyi had mentioned, searching for the answer to a question, or to confirm a suspicion in his heart.

And to see if the second thing Xiaoyi said was true.

Though he had yet to enter, since descending the mountain, the people and events he encountered seemed to guide him toward that answer.

He met a man named Changsheng, who recited a poem mocking the Xu Kingdom:

'Xu has stood for three centuries—should immortals fill the land?'

But the immortals here are not mere practitioners of a few days' Daoist arts, but those who truly step into the realm of humanity—at least, they must be Sage of Arts. Yet where are such people?

Ma Yuan said even those who unite the Five Realms are rare.

He himself, a small mountain immortal, was a Sage of Arts; though there were factors in his rapid ascent within two or three years, the people's longing for him in Xu was truly boundless, highlighting the value of the sixth realm.

Yet he saw that those in the Institute, the so-called immortals, their swordsmanship was mediocre. The rest need not be mentioned; even the Talent Master’s sword techniques—what did he use? Chicken Chop Sword?

But three hundred years ago, things were different.

According to Xiaoyi, people back then were far more powerful.

There was the marvel of Ten Bends of Clear Water, where simply drifting down the plateau’s azure waves could inspire the fusion of yin and yang.

There was the Sunflower Sword, able to sever rivers with a single stroke, borrowing qi from flowers.

And...

Everyone was surprised by his method of using the world’s spiritual energy.

But the geniuses of three centuries past could create such wonders as well.

The world remains the same, but its people are no longer what they were.

This world seems covered by a veil.

What it hides is what Gu Yi cares about most.

Changsheng, too, wondered: Why, after the founding of Xu, are there no more human immortals?

So the second thing Xiaoyi told him, he grew increasingly certain of.

Gradually, a suspicion formed.

This suspicion, once heard, could chill the soul—yet it seemed to explain everything.

The suspicion was: All cultivation in this world is wrong.