Ding Songyan sneered inwardly, but a sudden, lingering sense of dread washed over him.
He was currently within his own sea of consciousness, the gathering place of his thoughts. Although it seemed he could only communicate with Yan Changqing by utilizing that "seed"—keeping his spoken words separate from his inner thoughts—he still lacked a deep understanding of this miraculous technique. What if Yan Changqing, who had bestowed that "Qi" upon him, could also monitor his innermost thoughts in real-time?
Any dangerous ideas would have to wait until he was safely out of the dungeon!
Yan Changqing, pacing with his hands behind his back, looked at Ding Songyan with a refined, scholarly air. His posture was relaxed, and his voice was calm as he spoke:
"If you cannot make up your mind for the moment, you may take another two or three days to consider. But remember, the longer you hesitate, the narrower the gap becomes for us to seek survival amidst death.
"What I said yesterday was no lie. I am indeed well-versed in the arts of calculation. I saw long ago that you are currently surrounded by crises, and not just regarding the Zhen family. Heh, the strand of Qi I gave you has the power to pierce through illusions; it should help you see your situation clearly and make a decision sooner."
The old man chuckled softly:
"Are you thinking of finding an opportunity to go to the county or prefectural government to report this to the Yi clan or the Xiaoming Sect? You may try if you wish. Once you have tried, you will understand that I am the only one who can save you, and you are the only one who can save me."
I really was thinking of reporting this to the authorities... Surely the Zhen Mansion wouldn't fail to guard against me trying to drag them down with me, would they? How would they prevent it? By tailing and stopping me? Or perhaps, is Old Man Yan doing this on purpose? To take, one must first give. He tells me to try reporting it to the authorities, but is he actually using this to intimidate me? Ding Songyan said neither that he would report them nor that he would not.
Yan Changqing changed the subject, asking with a smile:
"Do you wish to learn martial arts?"
"I do." Ding Songyan wanted to see how the other party intended to "lure" him.
To that end, he added a deliberate remark:
"The promise the Zhen Mansion made to me was to help me find a martial arts school and cover all the expenses."
"If you lend me a hand, I will consider taking you as my disciple. Even if you are unwilling to apprentice under me, I will still teach you secret techniques." Yan Changqing’s hoarse, aged voice drifted slowly through the space. "You are no longer young. Disciples of major sects temper their bodies from childhood, but they do so without exceeding their limits. By the time they reach sixteen or seventeen, they formally begin Body Tempering and Qi Refining, and they are certain to achieve success within two years.
"I have calculated that you have just turned twenty. Starting Body Tempering and Qi Refining at this age, even with superior martial arts, will take three to five years. One step behind, and you are behind in every step. While the saying 'If one is not a grandmaster by forty, there is no hope for life' is not absolute, it is the general consensus for most martial artists.
"My secret technique can allow you to achieve success in Body Tempering within six months, and have Qi flowing through your entire body, circulating without end within a year."
This "lure" is truly tempting... The only problem is, who knows if what you say is true, or if that secret technique is really that powerful? After all, if I agree to help you escape, I’ll be lucky to survive six more days, let alone know the results of training six months from now... Given your previous display of how sinister human hearts can be, it’s not impossible that you’d give me a fake technique. Dead men can’t verify the truth anyway... Ding Songyan pondered for a moment and said:
"This junior will consider it for a day."
"Very well." Yan Changqing’s figure gradually faded, and the clear, misty light that had fallen into the sea of consciousness dissipated rapidly.
This world shrouded in fog returned to silence, no longer bearing any cracks.
Because of the existence of that "seed," Ding Songyan could split his focus at will, and he could exit the sea of consciousness or merge the two states with just a turn of his thoughts.
After returning to his normal state, he earnestly recounted the tale of Lady White revealing her true form to frighten Xu Xian, bringing his storytelling for the day to a close.
Upon exiting the dungeon and returning to the small building, Ding Songyan had just removed the black cloth from his face when he saw Mr. Yu waiting nearby.
His heart tightened, but Mr. Yu nodded slightly and said:
"You may visit various martial arts schools over the next few days and choose the one you wish to attend. Once you have finished telling 'The Legend of the White Snake' to that distinguished guest, we will help you make the arrangements."
"This junior was worrying about this very matter last night, and to receive an answer today, I am truly grateful." Ding Songyan cupped his hands, joy appearing on his face.
Yet, a common proverb flashed through his mind:
"You have the life to earn it, but not the life to spend it."
A promise that will never be fulfilled is worth nothing!
After leaving the Zhen Mansion, Ding Songyan immediately spotted Ren Youyang, wearing a green cap and tunic, waiting for him at the mouth of the alley across the street.
The bruises on his face had not yet fully faded, and the blood scab at the corner of his mouth was strikingly visible. Seeing Ding Songyan emerge, he smiled and let out a sigh of relief.
Seeing this, Ding Songyan felt a strange warmth in his heart.
He and Ren Youyang had only shared a single drink; their relationship was barely more than that of strangers, yet the man had helped him to such an extent.
He truly possessed the spirit of an ancient chivalrous hero!
"How did it go?" Seeing Ding Songyan approach, Ren Youyang asked with a smile.
Ding Songyan deliberated before saying:
"They didn't mention anything."
He did not know what kind of relationship the True Spirit Sect had with the Zhen Mansion, or what they were doing in the shadows, so he did not intend to tell Ren Youyang about Yan Changqing for the time being, lest it put him in a difficult position.
Of course, if he were truly driven to a dead end, he wouldn't be able to care about such things anymore; he would even beg a passing dog for help.
"Not mentioning anything is a good thing." Ren Youyang waved his hand. "No need to thank me. Go about your business; I’m off to the North Ward to listen to some variety shows."
Watching Ren Youyang depart, Ding Songyan only realized after leaving North Water Street that his stomach was rumbling like thunder; he was famished.
He hadn't had time to eat at noon before following Ren Youyang to the Zhen Mansion, and his nerves had been stretched to the breaking point ever since, so he hadn't noticed anything amiss.
Walking past the wooden fence, Ding Songyan found a noodle stall and sat down:
"A bowl of plain noodles, with a piece of braised pork belly."
Braised pork belly was a delicacy brought from the north during the dynasty's southern migration.
"Coming right up!" the stall owner replied with great vigor.
Before long, the plain noodles in a rich, soy-based broth were served, sprinkled with plenty of green scallions and topped with a piece of red, glistening, and perfectly layered braised pork belly.
It had just been lifted from the pot.
"That will be eleven wen." The stall owner said with a fawning smile.
Ding Songyan took out his money pouch, paid with one five-wen coin and six one-wen coins, then picked up his bamboo chopsticks. He lifted the piece of pork belly, which weighed two or three taels, and took a gentle bite.
The sauce was rich, the fat was not greasy, and the lean meat was not dry; it filled his mouth with fragrance as he chewed.
Focusing on the food allowed Ding Songyan’s thoughts and emotions to gradually settle, and he was no longer so tense.
As he drank the last few mouthfuls of broth, he held the bowl and fell into deep thought.
He went over everything in his mind, sorting through every possibility, his gaze completely unfocused, not knowing where he was staring.
After a long while, he finally wiped his mouth, set down his bowl and chopsticks, and stood up.
He still intended to go to the county government office.
If he didn't go, how would he know where the problem lay?
What if there was no problem at all?
Asking for directions along the way, after a quarter of an hour, Ding Songyan finally saw the Linjiang County government office, also located in the north of the city.
At the entrance of the office stood a large spirit wall, carved with the image of a deity with a beast’s body and a human face, riding two dragons.
The Fire God Zhurong, huh. Well, the Hong clan has always claimed to be descendants of Zhurong... The corresponding content from the "Secret Classic of Mountains and Seas" naturally flashed through Ding Songyan’s mind:
Zhurong, God of Fire, Essence of Summer, Master of the Hearth, Assistant to the Red Emperor, Manifestation of Mars.
Collecting his thoughts, Ding Songyan cautiously looked around, attempting to spot any potential tailers or obstructors, but the people coming and going were mostly bailiffs in red-bottomed, black-patterned clothing and Xiaoming Sect disciples in black martial attire.
Nothing seems amiss... Ding Songyan withdrew his gaze, carefully bypassed the spirit wall, and headed toward the main gate of the government office.
Along the way, people greeted him from time to time, calling him "Second Young Master Ding" or "Brother Yan."
It was clear that his predecessor had often come to the government office to find his father, Ding Shengyi.
"Second Young Master, what are you doing here?" Ding Shengyi, wearing a square peace-settling cap, was chatting with someone in the side corridor.
"Just passing by, so I thought I’d come see you, Father," Ding Songyan said with a smile.
The clerk opposite Ding Shengyi laughed upon hearing this:
"Brother Yan is still as filial as ever. Brother Shengyi, you are truly blessed!"
Ding Shengyi waved his hand with a hint of pride:
"Still needs discipline, still needs discipline."
Ding Songyan chatted with them for a few moments before taking his leave and walking out of the government office gate.
The scriptures inscribed on the back of the spirit wall outside caught his eye, causing him to suddenly freeze.
"Wait, what did I come to the government office for..."
Ding Songyan’s brows furrowed.
He tried his absolute best to recall, thinking until sweat beaded on his forehead.
Finally, he remembered:
He had come to the government office to try and report the matter, to tell them about the suspicious, mysterious person locked in the Zhen Mansion’s dungeon!
*Hiss...* Ding Songyan was instantly drenched in cold sweat, filled with extreme terror:
"Did someone quietly extract that part of my memory after I stepped into the government office?
"Does this world possess such martial arts?
"This is somewhat similar to the technique Yan Changqing used to influence my sea of consciousness and speak directly to my mind...
"So, is there a mole from the Zhen Mansion in the government office who influences my thoughts whenever I come here, or is Yan Changqing acting this out himself?
"He was the one who said there was a problem with the government office, and he was the one who used that 'seed' to control my thoughts and prevent me from reporting it, right?
"I can verify this later; people from the Xiaoming Sect and the Yi clan aren't only at the government office...
"If it really was Yan Changqing, the fact that the Zhen Mansion didn't stop me from coming here suggests they are roughly aware of the extent of what their 'distinguished guest' can do..."
Ding Songyan found an excuse and returned to the government office to look for Ding Shengyi.
This time, he merely chatted with his father again and left the government office without incident.
"There is definitely a problem..." Ding Songyan stood by the spirit wall and whispered to himself.
His clothes were already soaked through at the back.
Just then, a donkey cart approached, carrying a corpse, with two bailiffs sitting on it.
"Something happened?" a passing Xiaoming Sect disciple asked.
The two bailiffs on the donkey cart leaped off simultaneously, and one of them said in a low voice:
"It looks like he died of illness, but his internal organs are as decayed as if he had been dead for two or three days, yet his face looks like it’s been no more than four hours. It’s very strange."
"This... this is very similar to the state of Chen Yuliang from the Small Boat Gang after he died. Junior Sister Zheng has already reported it to the sect, the prefecture city, and Yan Jing, but there has been no reply yet." The Xiaoming Sect disciple observed the corpse for a moment, suppressing his nausea.
Ding Songyan, who was nearby, heard the name Chen Yuliang and subconsciously looked toward the donkey cart, toward the corpse.
In an instant, he saw a familiar yet pale face—a plain, unremarkable face.
It was the person who had been tailing him yesterday!
Ding Songyan was suddenly shocked and stunned:
His internal organs look like he’s been dead for two or three days?
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