Chapter 118: Learning from Pain

Three days later, Zhang Xiaoyan was finally taken away.

A giant hand, appearing out of thin air, effortlessly tore through the barrier of Linglong Town and plucked Zhang Xiaoyan away while he was busy showing off and attempting to teach He Changan how to draw talismans.

He Changan felt a thunderous shock and collapsed to the ground, his shoulders feeling as if they were crushed under a hundred-foot mountain, unable to move a single muscle.

He finally understood what "coercion" truly was.

That power, which left him with neither the strength nor the intent to resist, vanished as quickly as it had appeared, yet it tore a gaping hole in his Dao heart. His blood reversed, his spiritual energy churned, and even the few mysterious apertures he had just opened were ruptured by the surging energy, rendering his cultivation almost entirely void.

The little black sword and the Soul-Summoning Banner darted around inside him like frightened fish, wreaking further havoc on his already battered meridians, Dantian, and apertures.

He Changan struggled to rise, kneeling on one knee, head tilted toward the sky. Enduring an unspeakable sense of terror and submission, he spat out a mouthful of blood. He stared straight at the firmament, from where that giant hand had descended. His face was deathly pale, his heart hammered wildly, yet he refused to yield. Though he could not utter a word, his indignation and defiance were etched clearly upon his face:

"Come on then, come again! I’m not afraid of you!"

This was, perhaps, the awakening of He Changan's stubborn, primal tenacity after being driven into a dead end. He simply refused to submit, and he was not afraid. Even if that giant hand were to squeeze him into dust with a flick, he would still express his refusal to bow.

He guessed that the owner of that hand must be a great master from Mount Longhu, especially since Zhang Xiaoyan had shouted, "I hate you, I don't want to go back!" as he was taken.

The giant hand hovered in the sky, paused for a moment, and then quietly dissipated. A magnificent voice echoed from afar, transmitted directly into his soul: "Survive and leave this town, and I will grant you a stroke of fortune."

The mountain-like pressure vanished instantly. He Changan tasted sweetness in his throat and coughed up several mouthfuls of blood. It took a full cup of tea’s time to suppress the chaotic blood and spiritual energy surging through his body.

This was the second time he had been crippled by someone. He Changan struggled to his feet and returned to his room in silence. Zhang Xiaoyan was gone. He should have returned to the northern border, but now, a single sentence had trapped him in Linglong Town. He could well imagine that with that person’s heaven-defying means, even if the demons in the town knew how to leave, they would never dare to tell him.

However, as a cripple, He Changan’s most urgent task was simply to hang onto his own life.

***

From that day on, Linglong Town had one more ordinary human youth.

He Changan’s life became highly regimented. Before dawn, he would rise to practice boxing; when the sky was bright, he would slowly walk out of the Mountain Dwelling Inn to the bun shop to buy two baskets of vegetable buns. After eating, he would walk around the town, observing, rarely speaking to anyone, though he gradually came to know almost everyone.

Of course, everyone in town knew him—a sickly youth in a green robe who would sometimes stand on a nearby hillside, watching people work in the fields. As noon approached, he would return to the inn, eat lunch, and go back to his room, not emerging again until dusk. After dinner, he would return to his room until dawn.

The people of Linglong Town seemed to have received an order or a hint to leave He Changan alone. Even Hu Buyan stopped coming to trick him out of food and drink. He had become the sole outsider in the town—people did not easily harm him, and he did not provoke the demon descendants.

He couldn't afford to, anyway. Even if his cultivation hadn't been廢, he likely couldn't have beaten the bun shop owner or the Celestial Fox Lady, let alone the other women of the town.

Fortunately, He Changan’s mindset was excellent. Knowing he was in a desperate situation only made him grit his teeth and stand firm, never retreating. He lived in silence, silently repairing his shattered meridians and Dantian, refusing to die in silence.

It took him three full months to cultivate a single wisp of spiritual energy again. This time, he didn't seek speed; he sought stability. During those three months, He Changan did not consume a single pill, despite having twenty or thirty bottles of healing and cultivation-aiding elixirs in his storage bag. He simply endured it.

He felt that the giant hand from the sky, which had instantly crushed his body and ruined his cultivation, was not entirely a bad thing. From that man who called himself a sword cultivator, A-Fei, He Changan had learned how to temper his body and soul: constant destruction followed by constant repair, ultimately making oneself indestructible.

This time, it was just more thorough. As for pain? He had long since become numb to it; even if his bones were scraped and his flesh carved, he wouldn't even frown.

Ultimately, his greatest gain was his state of mind. The teachings of the old scholar taught him how to "reason," A-Fei’s teachings taught him how to stand firm, and that giant hand from the sky taught him that there are heavens beyond heavens.

He guessed that the owner of that hand was at least a terrestrial immortal. What did it matter to reach the ninth rank of martial arts? What did it matter to open nine mysterious apertures? Even if he reached the first rank and became the greatest expert in the Great Tang, so what?

He would just have to cultivate honestly, one step at a time.

***

A month later, He Changan finally re-entered the tenth rank of martial arts, opening nine mysterious apertures at once. His meridians and Dantian sea were more than twice as strong as before. That set of ancient boxing techniques benefited him immensely.

However, to him, this felt natural and not worth rejoicing over. Under the Dragon Gate Waterfall, he had ruined himself time and again—wasn't that just to lay a solid foundation for his practice? The old scholar once said something not quite accurate: "One may stop at the peak, there is no need to go further." The old scholar was talking about "rules," not simple moderation. For a time, He Changan thought it made sense.

But now, it was different. Master Lu’s words were correct in themselves, but after experiencing so much, He Changan had a different understanding: either fall a hundred feet, or just go ahead and ascend!

He Changan had never seen anyone ascend in broad daylight or ride a sword, but he preferred to believe it existed. Otherwise, this Great Tang would be far too boring.

Having regained some of his cultivation, He Changan began to appear in town more often between boxing and reading, drinking alone and eating buns alone; or he would simply go to the schoolhouse door to listen to the bright, young voices of the children reciting. In He Changan’s eyes, if one didn't go out at night, this town was like a paradise, perfect for reading.

The barrier between humans and demons slowly faded in this way, and in He Changan’s heart, a clear principle took root: whether human or demon, if they showed undisguised kindness, they were a good person, or a good demon. Once they harbored evil intent, then it was time to talk some sense into them. If he could suppress them, he would swat them into the dirt so deep that even their mother couldn't dig them out.

The problem was, he couldn't swat anyone right now, so he just smiled peacefully and reasoned with a young student who spat at him and threw stones. The gist was, "Are your parents healthy?" and "The purpose of reading is to understand reason and the way of loyalty and forgiveness..."

Then, the brat, delighted, threw a hornet's nest right at his face.

A hornet's nest couldn't hurt him, but the insult was heavy. Had his education gone to the dogs?

He Changan was angry, but his expression remained warm. He nodded at the boy and said, "Nice aim."

The demon youth, belonging to the Heavenly Wolf clan, was looking for trouble so he could legitimately call his three older brothers to make a scene. Unfortunately, He Changan wouldn't give him the chance. He just smiled gently and walked into the schoolhouse to find their teacher.

The other children had left, but the demon youth lingered at the schoolhouse door, carrying half a brick in his bag—pried from the wall of the small Taoist temple at the east end of town. That temple housed three clay statues—two old men with white beards and one handsome youth—and the incense was sparse. To get that half-brick, the demon youth had broken a family knife and exerted all his strength to pry it loose.

The town boys said the bricks there had spiritual power and hurt a lot when they hit someone. The demon youth had secretly hit himself on the head with it, and it hurt so much he curled up on the ground for half an hour. He decided that if this human, He Changan, came near, he would find an excuse to sneak-attack him with the brick. It wasn't that He Changan had provoked him; he just didn't like the smell of him...

***

When He Changan entered the schoolhouse, the down-and-out scholar Qing Yu, the only teacher, was standing by the window. He had watched the entire scene of the demon youth provoking He Changan. When he saw He Changan getting pelted by the hornet's nest and scrambling to swat away the angry hornets, he smirked. But when he saw the brick hidden in the boy's bag, the scholar couldn't smile anymore.

The Heavenly Wolf clan were always troublemakers. The boy's three older brothers had all been his students, and none of them were easy to deal with; they had all tasted his ruler. It seemed He Changan was being targeted by the Heavenly Wolf clan, and his future troubles would be endless. If things went wrong, he might even be killed and tossed into the mass grave outside the town like a dead dog.

He Changan walked straight up to the loft, knocked three times, and said, "Mr. Qing Yu, are you free? I’d like to buy half a jar of osmanthus wine."

The request was bizarre. Qing Yu smiled bitterly, opened the door, and bowed, "Buy it at my shop tonight. This is a school."

Mr. Qing Yu was dressed in a green robe, his face thin and refined, appearing to be in his early thirties. However, He Changan knew that the age of the demons in the town could not be judged by appearance. This Mr. Qing Yu was said to belong to the Azure Phoenix clan, known for their longevity—he was likely a thousand-year-old demon.

He Changan smiled and asked, "Then, may I borrow a few books?"

Qing Yu laughed easily, turned, and took a stack of books from the shelf. "Books are never read unless borrowed; the ancients did not deceive me. These are the words of the sages, feel free to borrow them."

He Changan wiped his hands thoroughly on his lapels before accepting the stack with both hands, bowing respectfully to express his thanks, and walking straight back to the Mountain Dwelling Inn.

Mr. Qing Yu stood by the window, watching He Changan go, thinking it was quite interesting. This human youth was a pure martial artist, yet the way he wiped his hands before taking the books touched Qing Yu. It had nothing to do with whether he was human or demon.

Mr. Qing Yu had traveled the world in his younger years, through mountains and islands, having seen not just commoners, but figures like terrestrial immortals. Among them were many scholars. Yet, few could be as cautious as He Changan when accepting books.

***

Back at the inn, He Changan began to read behind closed doors, only emerging at noon and dusk for meals, with a scroll always in hand.

A pure martial artist, after losing his cultivation, had become a scholar? The old woman and the burly man at the inn found it strange, but they said nothing, though their tone became a bit more polite.

One afternoon, while He Changan was reading, he heard someone arrive at the inn. He didn't need to look to know it was that demon youth. He was only eleven or twelve, but his methods were vicious, his temper foul, and he would show a murderous glint at the slightest disagreement.

The boy carried a cloth bag containing the half-brick, intent on provoking He Changan. He didn't believe that a seventeen or eighteen-year-old man would actually endure being hit and scolded by an eleven or twelve-year-old boy. In this Linglong Town, the Heavenly Wolf clan was always domineering. Unfortunately, since they were all demons, it was often hard to kill each other. This human, He Changan, was perfect for practice—he might even get to experience the feeling of killing someone.

"Where is He Changan?" the boy shouted as soon as he entered, making a scene, afraid someone wouldn't know he was a "punk."

In the back courtyard, the burly man was furious and was about to go out and swat the brat, but the old woman glared at him. She rolled her eyes, looked up at the sky, and went back to her work. The burly man stomped his feet in anger but had to swallow his pride. Hearing the boy searching for him, the man was so annoyed he kicked the two millstones in the yard, sending them flying.

He Changan walked out of his room, scroll in hand, looking calmly at the demon youth, a warm smile always on his face.

"He Changan, are you a coward? I’ve been waiting for days, and you didn't dare come out?" the boy sneered, weighing the brick in his bag. He had decided: if He Changan said one tough word, he would smash him with the brick first.

"It's you. Is there something you need?" He Changan asked earnestly, nodding with a smile.

"Uh... why haven't you been to school lately?" The demon youth was stunned, answering instinctively, feeling deeply frustrated. Damn, this human brat was smiling so nicely, it was hard to land a sneak attack. After all, this was the territory of the Ancient Ape clan; even the ancestor of the Heavenly Wolf clan was wary of these two monkeys who seemed unable to die.

"By the way, my brother wants to invite you for a drink. Dare you go?" He suddenly had an idea and threw his three brothers into the mix to see how He Changan would respond.

"Your brother... wants to invite me for a drink? That’s kind, but my teacher told me to focus on my studies. Why don't you have them bring the wine here, and we can all drink together?" He Changan raised the scroll in his hand and said coolly.

Trying to trick him into going out so they could find an excuse to attack? He wasn't stupid enough to poke his finger into a millstone. Avoiding the sharp edge and assessing the situation—even the sages said as much, so who was he to risk going to a banquet?

It wasn't because he was a coward... it was just the way of survival.

The demon youth laughed in a rage, shouting arrogantly, "He Changan, you dog of a human, do you dare to curse me!"

"You?" He Changan shook his head with a wry smile. "Why would I curse you? Is my brain filled with dung?"