Volume One: Tempests in a Small Town Chapter 7: The Classic of the Way and Virtue

Hearing Zhang Heng agree to dissolve the engagement, Murong Qingxue felt a surge of joy in her heart. At last, the matter was settled, and she could now go to the Holy Land with her master to cultivate in peace. She rose and said, “Thank you, Young Master Zhang, for your understanding. I shall take my leave now. The Clear Heart Pill was originally prepared as a gift for you, but since you do not wish for it, I shall keep it for now. When I see my master in the future, I’ll ask her for something else to give you.”

“Please, no, absolutely not!”

Murong Qingxue’s words made Zhang Heng break out in cold sweat. Murong Qingxue’s master—wasn’t she a superpower in the Linglong Holy Land? Someone like me, just a small nobody, could be destroyed with a single glance from her.

Zhang Heng hurriedly said, “We’re parting amicably; you don’t need to feel indebted.”

“Amicably?” Murong Qingxue asked, puzzled.

“I mean, the dissolution of our engagement is mutual. Neither owes the other anything.”

Clearly, I’m still not calm enough, Zhang Heng thought. In my panic, I even used modern language. That was a grave mistake—if anyone realized I didn’t belong to this world, they might capture me as a monster for research.

“I was too abrupt. Now that the matter is settled, I’ll take my leave. Take care, Young Master Zhang.” With that, Murong Qingxue nodded slightly to Zhang Heng and turned to depart.

Seeing her about to leave, Zhang Heng blurted out “Wait!” in his urgency.

“Oh? Is there something else, Young Master?” Murong Qingxue turned back upon hearing Zhang Heng’s request.

This was an opportunity. After all this time since arriving in this world (well, just a day, to be honest), Zhang Heng had finally come to terms with reality.

The body he’d transmigrated into was truly a good-for-nothing; if nothing unexpected happened, he’d live his whole life as an ordinary mortal. But he was a transmigrator—heaven had shown him mercy, allowing him to enter this wondrous world. How could he settle for mediocrity? In his previous life, he had no choice, as he could have died at any moment. But here, he was safe, and so, whatever it took, he would fight for his own destiny.

And here was the chance—Murong Qingxue was the breakthrough. She was a disciple of Linglong Holy Land, one of the most powerful forces in this world. If he could win her favor (no, build a good relationship), perhaps through her, he could meet the great figures of Linglong Holy Land (like her master), and maybe even find a way to change his constitution so he could cultivate.

Zhang Heng thought to himself: I’ve lived two lives; deceiving a naive young girl shouldn’t be difficult at all.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Zhang Heng began, “Everyone says you are beautiful and exceptionally gifted, the most beautiful and talented woman in Liunan City. Having met you today, I can see it is true. But I believe your temperament is even more extraordinary. There is a refined aura in your every gesture; I imagine even among the disciples of Linglong Holy Land, such poise is rare. More importantly, your mindset is remarkable. As a person of the Holy Land, you could have made your status public, allowing your family to benefit greatly, perhaps even rise to become the foremost clan in the Liu Kingdom. You yourself would become the object of admiration for all men and envy for all women. Regarding our engagement, you had no need to concern yourself, yet you came to me personally, brought me a spiritual pill (which, thinking about it, pains my heart), and protected my dignity at every turn. I believe, in this vast continent, women like you are exceedingly rare.”

Zhang Heng spared no effort in his praise. Even he was moved by his own words—surely a young girl wouldn’t be unaffected, he thought.

“Young Master Zhang, you didn’t ask me to stay just to say these things, did you?” Murong Qingxue’s tone remained calm, her heart unmoved by Zhang Heng’s words.

What? That’s it? Sister, I’ve said so much, my mouth is dry, can’t you at least respond, even a simple thank you? Zhang Heng felt utterly drained.

It seemed Murong Qingxue wasn’t swayed by flattery; he’d have to use his trump card.

Zhang Heng replied, “Of course not. I inadvertently acquired a scripture, but my aptitude is lacking and I cannot understand it. You, with your natural talent, might have some insight, so I’d like to ask your guidance.”

Without waiting for Murong Qingxue’s reply, Zhang Heng went to the bookshelf, fetched paper and brush, and began writing.

Aren’t you gifted? Aren’t you devoted to cultivation? Then I’ll give you a cultivation manual.

On the paper, Zhang Heng wrote:

The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name.

Nameless, it is the origin of heaven and earth; named, it is the mother of all things.

Always without desire, one can observe its wonders; always with desire, one can observe its boundaries.

Both emerge together but differ in name; together they are called profound. Profound and more profound, the gateway to all mysteries…

Zhang Heng’s brushwork was quite elegant—though not as skilled as a master, it was more refined than most.

From his conversation with Murong Qingxue, Zhang Heng suddenly realized the true advantage of a transmigrator: the memories of the twenty-first century. This memory was the real cheat.

This “Dao De Jing” by Laozi was a cornerstone of Daoist philosophy. Take your time studying it.

It shouldn’t do any harm, should it?

From the moment Zhang Heng began writing, Murong Qingxue watched closely. The scripture was abstruse and mysterious; though she couldn’t fully comprehend it, she sensed a vast world within.

When Zhang Heng finished, he handed the sheet with the scripture to Murong Qingxue.

“Miss Qingxue, please.”

Murong Qingxue stared at the scripture, rooted in place.

In the cultivation world, what is most important? Not physique, not talent, not pills, but scriptures and cultivation methods. They are the core of a sect, the foundation of a nation; a good cultivation method can ensure a sect’s prosperity for millennia.

Now, before her eyes was an extraordinary scripture, given to her without a word—how could she not be shocked?

“Young Master Zhang, this is too precious—I cannot accept it,” Murong Qingxue was clearly tempted, but tried her best to refuse.

Seeing her reaction, Zhang Heng breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed his plan was working.

With righteous solemnity, Zhang Heng said, “Miss Qingxue, if you consider me a friend, please accept it. This scripture is indeed remarkable, but in my hands it would be wasted. Only you can let it shine as it deserves.”

“In that case, I shall keep it for now. If I discover anything, I will inform you immediately,” Murong Qingxue felt Zhang Heng’s reasoning was sound and decided to accept it.

“That’s right. It’s getting late; you should return,” Zhang Heng urged, afraid he might burst out laughing.

Seeing Murong Qingxue moved, Zhang Heng thought: I have countless scriptures like this.

In his previous life, Zhang Heng loved reading, so he had perused many things others found uninteresting.