July, 1182, Morning.
The rainwater dripped continuously along the eaves.
The droplets smashed onto the ground, shattering and splattering, some scattering in the air, some landing on the brown surface of the wall corner.
Beside the wall under the eaves, two people were standing.
One was a man, slender and no more than ten years old, his face flushed, wearing a washed-out blue Daoist robe.
His black long hair was tied into a Daoist topknot, adorned with a wooden crescent crown. The rough, unpolished edges of the crown were still visible.
Standing opposite him was a woman wearing a veil, her eyes bright, her complexion fair and beautiful.
The woman had a graceful figure, dressed in a plain white skirt, the hem reaching only mid-thigh, revealing her pale skin, her feet clad in knee-high brown leather boots, and a jade and leather green belt around her waist.
"Rongfang, I might be going to the Great Capital soon, later... I might not be able to visit you often." The woman's voice was soft and clear, pure as a mountain spring.
"Didn't you promise me not to go with Du Malan anymore!?" The man gritted his teeth, his words squeezed out through clenched teeth.
"I promised you." The woman nodded, "So I'm not with Du Malan now."
She sighed lightly, turning to gaze at the dense forest beyond the rain curtain.
In the dark green mixed with brown forest, the wind stirred the branches incessantly.
The sound of rustling, mingling with the patter of the raindrops, blending into one, indistinguishable from each other.
"In this world, to avoid being bullied, one must find ways to climb up. Don't you understand this principle by now?"
The woman spoke softly.
"I don't want this either, but apart from my looks, what else can I use as a bargaining chip? At least, compared to other mediocre women, I am much luckier, at least, I have the hope of turning the situation around!"
She opened a small satchel from her back waist, took out an object wrapped in light yellow oil paper, and handed it to the man.
"With our parents gone early, we siblings only have each other to rely on, Rongfang, this is what I've saved over these years, take it..."
She handed over the oil paper package.
These years, after realizing, the woman sold everything to him for a suitable price, barely exchanged for their safety and a life free of worry.
Moreover, inside this package, was something her brother had wanted for a long time.
Thinking of this, the woman unconsciously pressed the skin of her thigh's back.
Even through the skirt, one could feel bouts of pain.
For that thing, she sacrificed her dignity, becoming a plaything for others.
But it was worth it.
These money and that thing should be enough for her brother's sustenance for a few years...
"Take it, rest assured, I will definitely make sure we will have..."
Slap!!
The man violently slapped the oil paper package.
The package was forcefully knocked flying, rolling into the rain curtain, tumbling several times in the wet mud, scattering a stack of bills and copper coins.
"Who the hell wants your dirty money!" The man suddenly raised his head, shouting, "Do you think if you don't say anything, others won't know? Do you think having money ensures a good life!? Do you think nobody knows about the things you do every day!? Do you know how others talk about you behind your back?!"
"You know nothing! Being played around is fun, isn't it?! You have no shame, I still have mine!"
"How did our parents teach us back then? Have you forgotten everything?"
"I, Zhang Rongfang, will not acknowledge you as my sister from now on!! Now take your dirty money and leave!!"
Slap!
He fiercely slapped the woman. Turning around, he walked away, soon disappearing drenched by the rain into the depths of the forest.
The woman paused for a moment, her right cheek flushed and slowly swollen from the slap, but she couldn't care much, hurriedly rushing out under the eaves, running towards the scattered package, squatting down to pick up the bills one by one from the ground.
She picked up carefully, but unfortunately, the rain and mud, combined with the tumbling on the ground, dissolved most of the older bills, ruining them.
Those ruined and blurred bills were unusable, essentially wasted. This meant a large portion of her previous effort went down the drain...
As the woman picked them up, water droplets fell on the back of her hand, yet these droplets seemed not to be rain.
Tears blurred her vision, her hands stained with mud water as well.
"It's not his fault, he's still young, naive... doesn't understand the importance of money, later, he will..."
She didn't continue, merely repackaged the money and items back into the oil paper, squatting there, soaked by the rain, choking, mumbling without knowing what to say.
*
*
*
Great Spirit Year 1183, February.
Pingyu Road, Huaxin County, Qinghe Palace.
Cruciform red flowers lightly swayed in the tree with the wind, a dewdrop slipping from the petal end.
The dewdrop fell, dropping over ten meters from the tree's height, gently smashing onto a Daoist's cheek.
The Daoist reached up to rub his face, eyes closed, picked up the yellow gourd in his hand, and sniffed at the opening.
"A gourd of spring intoxication at Haitangzhou, a gourd's fragrance permeates before drinking, this wine truly lives up to its fame far and wide as Gourd Wine... its scent alone feels soothing to the whole body!"
He expressed his intoxicated admiration. Holding the gourd, he tilted his head upward in a drink-imitating posture, imagining the empty gourd overflowing with fine wine.
Before the Daoist lay a black-and-white Tai Chi Diagram Daoist field, square-shaped, surrounded by white walls and flourishing flower trees.
A dozen young Daoists sat cross-legged on the field, chanting scriptures.
"Broken bamboo requires bamboo mending, use eggs when holding chickens. All types in vain labor, it's better than the true lead bearing holy secrets...."
A group of young Daoists recited the scripture in a singing tone, beside them, two Daoists, one holding the Emperor's Bell (a Taoist handbell), the other knocking a small drum, echoed in accompaniment.
Among them, in the corner, a slightly dark-skinned, somewhat frail young Daoist moved his mouth, yet no sound came out.
Evidently, this person was just mouthing the words.
He wore a deep blue Daoist robe, with a crescent-shaped wooden Daoist crown on his head, his expression wooden.
On the surface, he was chanting, but in reality, his mind was in chaos.
It's been over ten days since he came to this world, yet Zhang Rongfang still felt muddled, unable to adapt to life here.
One night, he simply closed his eyes, then opened them again, and found himself in a different place.
After more than ten days of observation, Zhang Rongfang silently gathered various data and somewhat figured out the situation here.
This place is a vast country named Great Spirit.
And the area he was in was a mid-sized Daoist temple within the mountains on the western side of Great Spirit.
The temple was called Qinghe Palace, a squared Daoist palace housing over a hundred Daoists.
Zhang Rongfang was one of them.
The Daoists had morning and evening lessons daily; apart from chanting scriptures, they either did chores or occasionally, a few would practice Daoist cultivation techniques.
But.....
Upon inquiry, Zhang Rongfang found out that the Daoist cultivation techniques in this world didn't have any exaggerated effects and were primarily created for longevity and health.
No immortal techniques, no mysterious magic treasures, and certainly no sword flight.
The only benefit of practicing Daoist cultivation here was good health, fewer diseases, and occasionally being able to treat others, much like Qi Gong healing in common parlance...
Having seen several supposedly highly skilled senior Daoists in some temples, Zhang Rongfang completely abandoned his hopes.
After decades of practice, these old Daoists were just healthy, ruddy-faced, fast runners, and robust, with no special abilities whatsoever.
After finishing the morning lesson's Qi Refining Scripture, a group of Daoists sat silently for a while before rising at the sound of the bell.
"Anyone going to the fire room, hurry up! This morning, we have esteemed guests visiting; everyone should get spirited and not be lazy like usual." The brother supervising the morning lesson shouted loudly, holding a duster.
"Even if we hurry, the fire won't start; we're almost out of fuel and haven't replenished it yet. All you do is shout, shout, shout, all day long. The master hasn't even spoken."
A chubby Daoist murmured softly on the side.
The chubby Daoist glanced at Zhang Rongfang.
"Old Fang, why don't you help me do it? I'll give you this amount." He stretched out a finger.
"Ten copper coins?" Zhang Rongfang understood, "No, I have things to do today."
"Oh, you're going to the correspondence room to get letters, right?" The chubby Daoist named Pang Zhong laughed upon hearing this.
However, his smile seemed to carry a different implication.
Zhang Rongfang paid him no mind.
After coming to this world, he inherited some memories from his predecessor, knowing that his parents were deceased, and he had an elder sister, but she had gone to the distant Great Capital, cutting all contact.
And it seemed it was he who proactively left, came to Qinghe Palace to become a Daoist, and hence severed the connection.
Leaving the dojo, he followed the side corridor, making his way toward the correspondence room.
The corridor was in a square shape, connecting three dojos.
In one dojo, pairs of disciples in Daoist robes with their limbs bound were sparring with each other.
Zhang Rongfang glanced from afar; the Daoists were only practicing ordinary martial arts.
No Inner Qi, apart from being slightly more imposing than ordinary people, nothing else was unusual.
A faint inscrutable black line flashed in his eyes.
Suddenly, above each head in the arena appeared rows of attribute data like in a game.
'Wang Yingshi——Life 11-15, Skill: Rejuvenation Purification Talisman Manual - Seventh Mountain-shaped Talisman.'
'Xie Zhao——Life 12-13, Skill: Rejuvenation Purification Talisman Manual - Fifth Primordial Talisman.'
'Chen Dasheng——Life 11-14, Skill: Rejuvenation Purification Talisman Manual - Seventh Mountain-shaped Talisman.'
The information of each Daoist appeared before Zhang Rongfang's eyes.
He looked down at himself.
'Zhang Rongfang——Life 8-9, Skill: None. Usable Attributes: 0.'
There was a small yellow plus sign beside his own life and skill, clearly indicating that, just like the games he played in his previous life, attributes could be forcibly enhanced using points.
This ability looked like a game, but Zhang Rongfang preferred to view it as a mutation ability.
Because this ability didn't emerge originally; it gradually formed as he learned more about the external world and collected more information.
Names, life, skills—all came about this way.
Furthermore... this world didn't feel like a game because it was excessively real.
After more than ten days of contemplation and analysis, data collection, and testing, Zhang Rongfang found that the only way to increase attributes was through eating.
The better the food, the richer the nutrition, the faster the accumulation of attribute points.
He had already tested this, earning one attribute point, which he allocated to life. Thus, his life level seemed to have risen from the original 7-8 to 8-9.
In Qinghe Palace, where the life of ordinary Daoists was typically 8-9, Zhang Rongfang achieved this average level.
Traversing the corridor, he quickly found a small room.
The room was a wooden house built separately at the corridor entrance, filled with various letters and parcels, watched over by an old Daoist with half-closed eyes.
The old Daoist leaned against the door, his back resting on the wall, puffing dry tobacco.
"Brother Xu, I'd like to retrieve my letter." Zhang Rongfang clasped his fists and saluted.
Old Xu reached behind with a swoosh, pulling out a package, opened it, and took out a slightly coarse pale yellow envelope.
Zhang Rongfang accepted it, saluted again, and turned to head toward the dormitory area for disciples.
While walking, he opened the wax seal of the envelope and extracted the letter paper.
Inside, there was only a small line of text and a small denomination banknote. The figure of one hundred copper coins was printed on it.
The sender was Xiaolong Residence, a brothel.