"Junior Brother Wuchenzi, do you know how many scripts exist in the world today, and how many are recorded in the Daoist Scripture?"
White clouds drifted lazily, green mountains loomed faintly, clear waters wound around, and the tinkling of a waterfall echoed nearby. In a small bamboo pavilion nestled against the mountain and beside the stream, Baiyunzi sat across from Li Haimo.
"Don't know!" Li Haimo shook his head. He couldn't read a single character in the Daoist Scripture, so distinguishing how many scripts it contained was beyond him. To him, it was all one big mess of unrecognizable symbols.
Back in my past life, he thought, I had a second-level Mandarin proficiency, third-level computer skills, fourth-level English, and fifth-level amateur guitar. I was a college graduate—by ancient standards, I'd at least be a scholar in the Hanlin Academy. But here I am in the Qin era, a total illiterate. Good thing I transmigrated as a baby and learned to speak, or they'd have burned me as a barbarian.
"There are seven kingdoms today, each with its own script, making seven in total. Add in the various smaller states like the Hundred Yue, and you get twenty-three scripts altogether. The Daoist Scripture includes eighteen of these, plus fifteen more from ancient times to now, totaling thirty-three scripts. I know twelve of them, and the Human Sect collectively knows fifteen. So, after you learn those, you'll need to go to the Celestial Sect for six more, the Yin-Yang school for three, and the Confucian Lesser Sages' Manor for the remaining seven," Baiyunzi said calmly, sipping his tea.
Li Haimo was floored. Thirty-three scripts?! I barely passed English CET-4, and now you want me to learn thirty-three scripts? Are you kidding me? This isn't the Daoist Scripture anymore—it's the Complete Anthology of Qin Shi Ming Yue Languages!
"Some people spend their whole lives mastering only three or four scripts. Imagine how thrilled you'll be when you learn all thirty-three," Baiyunzi said with a gentle smile.
Thrilled? Sure, I'm thrilled—look at my face, smiling uglier than crying. Li Haimo thought. I transmigrated here to shake the world, lead armies, or at least follow Sword Saint Ge Nie as a full-health guard or roam the land as a wounded hero. And now you're telling me I'm here to be a walking translator?
"The Daoist Scripture is primarily written in the Zhou dynasty script, which is also used in Yan. So we'll start with that. Then you'll learn Qin's script, since we're in Qin territory. After that, the rest. Any issues?" Baiyunzi asked, still smiling.
Issues? Do I have a choice? It's either get beaten to death by that loli Xiaomeng or study. What else can I do? Li Haimo thought bitterly. Between life and death lies great terror, but also great resolve. No choice—life's cheap, especially when you can't fight or flee. The weak have no rights!
"Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you scripts in the morning. In the afternoon, you'll study the Daoist Scripture in the library. At night, the sect leader will guide you on its basics. The rest of your time is yours to manage," Baiyunzi said.
"Got it," Li Haimo replied. What choice do I have? What free time? You sure there's any left for me to manage?
"Oh, and by the way," Baiyunzi added, "Uncle Bei Mingzi recently found a lost copy of Fenghou's Qimen and sent it to the library. You can study that too. The Yin-Yang school also sent over a transcribed copy of Lianshan Guizang, which they didn't want, to avoid dealing with our Daoist disciples. So you won't need to go to them for those missing slips."
What the… Li Haimo thought. Aren't the Yin-Yang school and the Daoist Celestial and Human sects supposed to be rivals? Why are they so eager to help the moment we ask? Are they messing with me or what? He shut down, staring blankly as Baiyunzi wrote characters on a sand tray, copying them stroke by stroke.
Baiyunzi nodded approvingly. Not bad talent, and such dedication. Why worry about the Human Sect's future? He's not as lazy as the sect leader claims. With that, he taught even more earnestly.
Days passed like this, with Li Haimo studying relentlessly. As for cultivation? Don't ask—he had none. The Daoist Scripture was a chaotic jumble of strange symbols and textual annotations, with no trace of a cultivation method. It felt like an all-encompassing miscellany, covering everything and connecting to everything, which was probably why it was revered as the foremost of the Three Classics.
"Senior Brother, are you sure this Daoist Scripture can be cultivated?" Li Haimo asked one evening, staring at Xiaoyaozi, who was sulking atop the mountain.
Xiaoyaozi was in a foul mood. His five-year plan had crashed and burned—Li Haimo hadn't made a shred of progress in cultivation. He'd studied over half the Daoist Scripture in the library, but there was nothing more to teach; it was up to him to comprehend it. Yet the kid hadn't grasped a thing, not even a hint of Daoist cultivation. The last disciple who studied the Daoist Scripture had at least gained some foundation after five years, but Li Haimo? Nothing. And to top it all off, Xiaoyaozi had lost—again—to Chi Songzi in the Heaven-Man contest. Meanwhile, eight-year-old Xiaomeng, who entered at the same time as Li Haimo, had already defeated the Celestial Sect's six great elders, earning personal guidance from Uncle Bei Mingzi.
"You're such a disappointment, always whining that the Daoist Scripture is the problem. I say you're the problem. I've never seen a disciple with worse talent. Look at Xiaomeng, who joined with you—she's already at the peak of second-rate, while you're still not even ninth-rate!" The Free-and-Easy Master had meant to stay calm. After all, losing to Chi Songzi wasn't Li Haimo's fault, and as sect leader, he couldn't just vent on others. But seeing Li Haimo's attitude, blaming the Daoist Scripture, he lost it. Grabbing the boy, he unleashed a flurry of smacks.
The more I hold back, the angrier I get. The more I yield, the worse I feel. Might as well beat him—it'll teach him a lesson and let me vent. Good for him, good for me, good for everyone. So he hit harder.
"Senior Brother, you can't beat Chi Songzi, so you take it out on me? What kind of hero does that make you?" Li Haimo yelled, dodging and scurrying with his head in his hands.
"What did you say? Who can't beat that old fossil?!" Xiaoyaozi rage flared hotter, chasing Li Haimo across the mountain.
Had Li Haimo not provoked him, Baiyunzi and the other elders watching from the sidelines might have stepped in to save him after letting the sect leader blow off some steam. After all, running around like this in front of other disciples would undermine the sect leader's dignity. But seeing Li Haimo's reckless taunting, they shook their heads. Forget it. He's done for. Bury him and burn extra paper offerings.
"Xiaoyaozi, don't push me! You think I won't fight back?" After a lap with no one coming to his rescue, Li Haimo stopped abruptly, forming a hand seal.
Xiaoyaozi paused, recognizing the seal. Isn't that the Yin-Yang school's forbidden technique, Soul Wandering Dragon? Curious to see what the kid had learned in five years, he waited.
"Soul Wandering Dragon!" Li Haimo gestured dramatically. But, embarrassingly, nothing happened except a gust of wind scattering some dry leaves.
"Soul Wandering Dragon, huh? Let's see your Soul Wandering Dragon!" Xiaoyaozi, after waiting in vain, charged forward and resumed the beating. "Why not try Heaven and Earth Lose Color? Or Autumn Waters of Ten Thousand Rivers?"
"Wait, I've got more!" Li Haimo broke free, forming another seal. "Behold my Earth Nourishing All Things!" he roared.
"Earth Nourishing All Things? Now you're pulling out Agriculturalist moves? What else you got? Hurry up!" The Free-and-Easy Master waited again, but nothing happened. So he dove back in for another round of pummeling.
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