Chapter 15: Initiation

Lingyu stood in the corner of the side hall, cautiously watching the people within. After Daoist Zhang brought her here, he tossed Xuanchenzi’s certificate onto the old Daoist’s desk, and the old Daoist’s expression immediately grew grave.

“Brother Gu, what should we do?”

“What’s going on?” The old Daoist flicked the certificate.

Daoist Zhang gestured at Lingyu. “This child says she’s the disciple of Master Tongxuan, sent by her master to return the certificate.”

The old Daoist scrutinized Lingyu, squinting his eyes. “Girl, are you the disciple Master Tongxuan took in outside the temple?”

Lingyu hesitated, unsure how to address him, so she simply answered, “Yes.”

“Why would Master Tongxuan ask you to return the certificate?”

Lingyu lowered her gaze. “About a month ago, my master told me he had business to attend to and would be leaving for a while. Before he left, he gave me this and instructed that if he didn’t return within three days, it meant he wouldn’t be coming back. He told me to bring this to Xuanyuan Temple.”

After she spoke, Lingyu felt uneasy, unsure whether her story would hold up. She’d rehearsed a string of reasons along the way, finally settling on this one, because she couldn’t say she had watched Xuanchenzi die. If she did, she would have to say where he died, and the place where his body was buried must not be revealed.

Upon hearing this, Zhang and Gu exchanged a glance.

They didn’t fully believe Lingyu, but found nothing obviously amiss. Master Tongxuan had left Xuanyuan Temple more than twenty years ago, and the last news from him had come three years prior. For someone missing so long, and whom they barely knew, how could they guess if her story was reasonable?

After a quiet moment, the old Daoist placed the certificate on the table. “Matters of the master are not our concern. Let’s leave it to the inner hall.”

Daoist Zhang nodded in agreement. “Brother Gu is right.” He picked up paper and brush, wrote something, and then, somehow produced a paper crane. Affixing the note, he performed a spell and blew gently—the crane wobbled and flew out.

Not long after, two men strode hurriedly into the hall.

“Where is the person?” one of them demanded loudly as soon as he entered.

Lingyu looked up to see that both men were in their twenties, much younger than Zhang and Gu, and their Daoist robes were adorned with more intricate patterns.

On seeing them, the old Daoist quickly stood and, with Daoist Zhang, saluted: “Greetings, Masters.”

The first speaker waved impatiently. “No need for formality.” He pointed at Lingyu. “Is this the child?”

The old Daoist replied promptly, “Yes, Master Tongzhen.”

Both masters fixed their gaze on Lingyu, making her feel uneasy. She was usually fearless, but this was a matter of life and death, and these two seemed formidable…

After a moment, the other master suddenly frowned. “You’re a girl?”

“Huh?” Tongzhen was surprised. “Really?”

“Master Tongxu has sharp eyes,” the old Daoist said with a smile. “This child has a boyish appearance, but she should indeed be a girl.”

Lingyu timidly glanced at them, then quickly lowered her head and shrank back. Her reaction was half genuine, half feigned; with four cultivators present, the pressure was real, but she was also deliberately acting to match what would be expected of a young girl.

Her appearance was actually quite delicate, but her brows were thicker, her nose straighter, her features more pronounced, and her stature taller than most. At eleven or twelve, she hadn’t yet begun to develop, so she looked like a boy.

She had barely entered and already been seen through twice; Lingyu thought to herself that no wonder her master said Xuanyuan Temple was not a place where things could be concealed. In truth, she hadn’t needed to dress as a boy—she had preferred it as a child because her family valued sons over daughters to a hopeless degree. She’d been neglected and scolded as worthless, so it was natural for her to wonder, “Why wasn’t I born a boy?” Later, she ran away and wandered, and dressing as a boy was simply convenient. So, the distinction mattered little to the masters; after Tongxu pointed it out, he went straight to the point. “You are Zheng Tongxuan’s disciple?”

Lingyu softly affirmed.

“Your name, your background, when your master took you in, your experiences—tell us everything, in detail!” Tongxu’s manner was brusque.

Lingyu swallowed, nervous, and glanced at him. “My… my Daoist name is Lingyu. I’m from Yin City. Three years ago, I was stranded in Fan City and met my master. He said I had good aptitude and took me in… My master took me to many places, and we finally settled on Whitespring Mountain…”

Her experiences were mostly true; the news of Xuanchenzi’s death was the story she had just invented.

When she finished, Tongzhen and Tongxu both frowned.

“So, according to you, your master has met with misfortune?” Tongzhen pressed.

Lingyu’s eyes reddened at this, and she said softly, “I don’t know… Perhaps my master simply encountered danger and couldn’t return…” She struggled to recall sad memories until her eyes brimmed with tears, squeezing out a few drops.

“Did your master tell you anything besides asking you to return the certificate?”

Lingyu hastily wiped her tears and replied, “Master only told me to bring this to Xuanyuan Temple and cultivate well. He said nothing else…”

“So, your master wants you to formally become a disciple here,” Tongxu said, thinking aloud. “Since he’s a master, he has the right to take disciples; admitting you isn’t an issue. But how can you prove your story is true?”

Lingyu was startled, stammering, “But… what I said… is really true!”

“Brother, why ask so much?” Tongzhen said impatiently. “Let’s just use Dream Induction. If she hasn’t lied, we’ll admit her according to the rules. If she has—hmph!”

Dream Induction! Lingyu stiffened, suddenly remembering what old Gongsun had mentioned that night—it was a spell that forced people to tell the truth! She cursed herself for forgetting it, blaming her unfamiliarity with the cultivation world. What to do—was there any way to avoid Dream Induction?

She began to sweat, trying to remain calm, when Tongxu said, “No. If she really is Tongxuan’s disciple, even if not formally admitted, by the rules she’s already one of our own. Dream Induction causes confusion for a while; without the Abbot’s permission, it cannot be used on temple disciples.”

“Brother!” Tongzhen objected. “But she’s not yet formally admitted; she doesn’t count as a temple disciple.”

Tongxu waved him off, clearly resolved. He pondered a moment and asked, “Child, did your master give you anything besides the certificate? What about the disciple’s handbook?”

Lingyu was puzzled—disciple’s handbook? What was that?

Seeing her confusion, Tongzhen remarked, “By custom, the handbook never leaves the disciple’s side. It seems she wasn’t given it.”

Tongxu shook his head. “Since he handed over the certificate, he must have believed his chances of survival were slim. In that case, he would also return the handbook; otherwise, what purpose would it serve?”

Lingyu suddenly recalled an object and quickly said, “Is it this?” She took out a battered, coverless book from her bosom.

Tongxu took it, flipped through, and nodded. “Yes, that’s it.” He turned to the last pages, examined them closely, then handed the book to Tongzhen.

Tongzhen did likewise, scrutinized it, and closed the book.

“Alright,” Tongxu said. “Admit the child as a disciple.”

Lingyu was dumbfounded. Just moments ago, they’d been so stern, insisting on verifying her story, but after reading the so-called disciple’s handbook, they asked nothing more and admitted her immediately. What was written in that thing?

Tongxu and Tongzhen had already risen. Tongxu raised the certificate and handbook. “We’ll take these for our report. You need not concern yourselves with Master Tongxuan’s affairs.”

“Yes, as you command, Masters,” Zhang and Gu replied respectfully.

“Masters!” Seeing the two about to leave, the old Daoist hurriedly called, “By your judgment, should the child be registered in the Lower Hall or the Upper Hall?”

Tongxu hadn’t answered yet, but Tongzhen waved his hand. “Though she’s Tongxuan’s disciple, she wasn’t brought back by him. Let her start in the Lower Hall; once she reaches the Visualization Realm and is ready for initiation, she can transfer to the Upper Hall.”

Since Tongxu did not object, the old Daoist replied, “Understood.”

After the two masters departed, the old Daoist opened the disciple register, preparing to write, when Lingyu spoke in confusion, “But my master said I’ve already reached the Visualization Realm and can be initiated.”

“Hmm?” Both Zhang and Gu fixed their gaze on her.

Daoist Zhang exclaimed, “Child, you’ve already reached the Visualization Realm?”

Lingyu nodded.

They exchanged a glance, and the old Daoist beckoned her over. “Come here.”

Lingyu obediently approached.

The old Daoist’s withered hand rested atop her crown, and Lingyu felt a gentle heat flow into her, both soothing and faintly painful.

After a few breaths, the old Daoist withdrew his hand and nodded. “Indeed, you’re ready for initiation. No wonder Master Tongxuan took you as a disciple. Child, how old are you?”

“Twelve,” Lingyu replied.

“Twelve!” Daoist Zhang was amazed. “How many years have you cultivated?”

“Three,” Lingyu answered honestly.

The two Daoists looked at each other. Daoist Zhang shook his head. “Taking disciples is never simple for a master—no wonder, no wonder!”

The old Daoist shook his head as well. “It seems she should be entered in the Upper Hall. Sigh, three years to initiation; my boy took five and thought himself exceptionally gifted, but he doesn’t realize there are always greater talents out there!” With that, he put away the previous register and brought out a much thinner one, calling Lingyu over with unusual warmth. “Child, registration in the Upper Hall is a bit more involved than the Lower Hall. I’ll ask you some questions; answer everything truthfully.”

Lingyu nodded. “Yes.”

“Can you write?”

“I can.”

The old Daoist handed her a brush. “Fill it out yourself.”

___________

Delayed updates are an illness—I must treat it! Will revise shortly. Source: Yawen Romance Novels