Although Mei Qing was usually easygoing and gentle in character, once he set his mind to something and became determined, he was as stubborn as could be—unshakable even by eight galloping horses. He didn’t even bother to change the horse he rode to the temple every morning, no matter how uncomfortable the ride might be. Upon arriving at the temple, he made no effort to avoid Bi Zhen. Instead, he would approach her deliberately to greet her, then calmly wait for her to cast her spells or play her tricks before sitting quietly to neutralize their effects.
Mei Qing was expending a great deal of energy in this struggle, but Bi Zhen was no less determined. At first, both sides maintained a degree of politeness, but as time passed, they grew more direct. In the mornings, after Mei Qing entered the courtyard, Bi Zhen would finish casting her enchantments, flash her seductive looks, and then go about her business with a composed air. Mei Qing, in turn, would return to his room to meditate and calm his mind. The two of them developed a kind of unspoken understanding, exchanging not a single unnecessary word.
Before long, Bi Zhen began visiting Mei Qing’s room with increasing frequency. At first, she came two or three times a day, then four or five times. Yesterday, she might have come as many as seven or eight times. This left Xiao Daotong Mingjing, who followed Bi Zhen around, quite puzzled. “Why does our Bi Zhen, who used to look down on worldly men and barely acknowledge them, keep visiting this Mei Qing? It’s already been eight visits today! Could it be she’s fallen for him?” Mei Qing was indeed handsome and gentle-tempered, a truly charming young man.
So now, not only did Bi Zhen smile at Mei Qing like spring blossoms in bloom—though in truth, she secretly seethed with frustration at his stubbornness— but even Mingjing, the young Daoist boy, kept glancing at him with curious eyes. To Mei Qing, it seemed as though the two of them were working together, unleashing their charms in tandem. The combined effect of the two beauties, young and old, was nothing short of overwhelming.
Indeed, Mei Qing’s life these days was nothing less than torture. Even the notorious “Smiling Tiger” Ma Dashen would have struggled to devise such cruel torment. Not only did Mei Qing exercise strict self-restraint during the day, but even at home, where matters with Duoyun had long been stabilized, he hadn’t touched her even once. It was all for the sake of proving a point to Bi Zhen.
Duoyun, for her part, felt quite hurt by this. It took a great deal of coaxing from Mei Qing—explaining that he was practicing a cultivation technique that required him to abstain until he reached a certain level of mastery, along with many sweet and reassuring words—to finally make her smile again.
As more than a month passed, Mei Qing endured Bi Zhen’s relentless trials and made progress so astonishing that it was hard to believe. Now, not only could he meditate and cultivate while sitting still, but he could also carry on a conversation with Bi Zhen while continuing his internal cultivation. This was out of necessity—Bi Zhen’s frequent visits left him no time to properly assume a meditative posture or regulate his breathing in the traditional way. Moreover, Mei Qing had other responsibilities to attend to, for he had a bet with Master Liu to win.
The saying goes, “Ignorance breeds fearlessness.” Mei Qing, however, had no idea just how reckless his method of cultivation was. For cultivators, the first rule was to find a quiet, undisturbed place to practice. If one were interrupted at a critical moment, the consequences could range from minor setbacks to madness—or even death.
Mei Qing had never formally studied Daoist cultivation, nor had he received any guidance. He simply dealt with the surging waves of desire by adopting a steady, gradual approach. He continued his research, carefully copying and organizing his findings. In short, he managed his affairs while continuing his practice. Eventually, he became so adept at maintaining his focus that he could cultivate while walking, riding, or even eating. Each day at Rensheng Palace, he engaged in direct confrontation with Bi Zhen, enduring the torment of burning purple flames of desire until, in the evening, he could slowly dissolve them into the swirling energy within his body.
As a result, the energy vortex inside him grew stronger, as if nourished by some powerful elixir. Most notably, the core of the vortex had begun to solidify. Mei Qing, unaware of the significance, simply continued his practice. What he didn’t know was that he had already reached the stage of completing the Celestial Circuit, standing at the threshold of the union of Heaven and Earth and the return of the Golden Elixir.
Zhongshu, burdened by guilt, had been avoiding Mei Qing’s presence lately, so he hadn’t noticed these developments. Had he taken a closer look, he might have been so shocked he’d have fallen over backward. For most cultivators, the journey from Foundation Building to the stage of Heaven-Earth union could take as long as a decade or more. For those with lesser talent or bad fortune, three or even five decades was not unusual.
Yet here was Mei Qing, having stumbled through this process in just over a month, reaching the brink of this crucial milestone. If word of this ever got out, the entire cultivation world would be thrown into upheaval.
Unaware of his progress, Mei Qing continued to endure his suffering in silence. What he didn’t realize was that Bi Zhen, too, was struggling.
As mentioned earlier, the Zhi Xiang Method was originally a form of observation technique, divided into internal and external observation. Said to have originated from the Southern Elixir School, it combined dual cultivation techniques with Buddhist visualization methods. The external method, in simple terms, involved projecting one’s alluring form to provoke desire in others.
However, there was a caveat: the external method required a strong internal foundation. The practitioner had to be able to withstand the effects of their own technique. At first, Mei Qing had been unaware of Bi Zhen’s tactics, and his cultivation level was clearly far below hers, so she had the upper hand. But Mei Qing’s resilience proved unexpectedly strong. Many times, when it seemed he was on the verge of breaking, he somehow held firm, gradually turning the tide. The effectiveness of Bi Zhen’s technique waned, while she herself began to feel increasing pressure. More than once, she had to suppress her own rising desires. Had it not been for her deep cultivation and strong Daoist resolve, along with her recent intensive training to counter Mei Qing, she might have lost control.
Moreover, Mei Qing’s progress had been nothing short of meteoric. Even the most legendary prodigies in Daoist lore hadn’t advanced so quickly. No wonder people had said he couldn’t be judged by ordinary standards. When he first arrived, he had been at the stage of Returning the Cauldron. In just over a month, he had nearly reached the stage of Condensing the Elixir, rivaling Bi Zhen’s own level of cultivation.
If this continued, wouldn’t he actually form his Elixir before her? If that happened, not only would she lose the bet with that old man, but she would never be able to face Mei Qing again without shame.
Thus, Bi Zhen threw herself into her training with all her might, relentlessly casting spells on Mei Qing in the hopes of gaining the upper hand. As her competitive spirit grew, she forgot the original purpose of her technique—to stir Mei Qing’s desires, entangle him in passion, and disrupt his cultivation. She also ignored the danger of magical backlash, pressing forward with all her strength, determined to break through his defenses.
“I’ve noticed that although you’ve made rapid progress in organizing these manuscripts, you still have a lot left, and it’s hard to meet your original goals. After much thought, I suspect you may face difficulties when working alone. Why not work together from now on? Perhaps we can inspire each other and make even greater progress?” Unable to break Mei Qing’s resolve, Bi Zhen finally decided to raise the stakes. Early one morning, she entered his room with a gentle smile and proposed a new challenge.
Mei Qing, confident in his growing resistance—his internal energy vortex had become increasingly stable—agreed without hesitation, thinking to himself, “Let’s see what new tricks you’ve got!”
Bi Zhen’s quarters were in a secluded wing of the former imperial palace. Though not as grand as the main hall, they were elegantly decorated with carved beams and painted rafters. After Bi Zhen made her suggestion, Mei Qing moved all his unfinished manuscripts to her room. Only after settling in did he notice that Bi Zhen’s desk was also covered in the same kind of manuscripts. The difference was that Bi Zhen had a silk scroll as a reference while organizing hers, and several other ancient scrolls were stacked nearby, clearly artifacts of great antiquity.
At once, Mei Qing understood: the manuscripts he had been translating were likely interpretations of the ancient silk scrolls. The script on the scrolls was clearly an ancient form of seal script, explaining why they required expert translation.
Ancient scripts were extremely complex. Whether in the forms of tadpole script, bird-and-insect script, or the scripts of various regions, they varied greatly. Even those skilled in ordinary small seal script would struggle to decipher them without specialized study. Moreover, many characters were used as phonetic loans, and some had multiple forms or meanings, making them nearly impossible to interpret.
At this time in the Ming Dynasty, the scholarly study of ancient texts had not yet become widespread, and archaeological discoveries were far fewer than in later eras. Yet for some reason, Mei Qing immediately recognized the script on the silk scroll as a variant of the ancient Yan script, and identified the passage Bi Zhen had laid out as a ritual prayer, different from the texts he had been copying.
As Mei Qing was still lost in thought, Bi Zhen made her move. Her eyes shimmered like spring water, her face like a blooming lotus. She approached with a graceful gait, exuding a delicate fragrance that filled the air.
Mei Qing had seen this act a thousand times before, but no matter how many times he witnessed it, he could never fully resist. He felt his blood surge once more, and quickly split his focus, anchoring his mind while slowly rotating his energy vortex to suppress the rising purple flames of desire.
But Bi Zhen gave him no respite. Normally, she would visit briefly, but today, with them sharing the same room, she seized the opportunity and began speaking to him in a soft, melodic voice.
Legend had it that Bi Zhen rarely spoke and treated men with icy indifference. If the men who had once desperately sought her favor knew that she was now smiling and seducing Mei Qing—a man who didn’t even understand her charms—while he suffered in agony, they would surely condemn him as the most undeserving fool in the world, condemning him to eternal torment with a million kicks to the face.
Mei Qing dared not let his guard down. He knew all too well the power of this “lady.” No matter what she said, he treated her words like wind passing by a donkey’s ear, ignoring them completely.
“I’ve long heard of your expertise in ancient studies and your fine reputation. These silk scrolls must be familiar to you. What are your thoughts?” Seeing Mei Qing’s vague responses, Bi Zhen changed tactics and asked softly.
This question struck a chord with Mei Qing, who had always been passionate about ancient scripts. Seeing the scroll, he felt a surge of excitement and replied, “In my humble opinion, this scroll may be a ritual prayer from ancient times, though its exact dating is difficult to determine.”
“Haha, it’s much older than you think. These scrolls date from the Shang and Zhou dynasties, and some even from the Qin and Han. If you’d like to read them, feel free—but be careful not to damage them. I’d be heartbroken, and then you’d have to pay me back.” As she spoke, Bi Zhen handed him several scrolls, playfully patting her ample chest at the word “heartbroken,” while secretly cursing Mei Qing for forcing her to resort to seduction.
Mei Qing instinctively reached out to take the scrolls, but as he looked at Bi Zhen’s graceful hands and the subtle movements beneath her robe, his mind reeled. The scrolls slipped from his hands and fell onto the table. Flustered, he quickly picked them up and stammered, “Ah, which one is from the Shang dynasty? Could you please tell me?”
Bi Zhen giggled, “Silly boy, clumsy hands. Whatever scroll you drop must be the Shang one!”
Mei Qing, already struggling to maintain his composure, was thrown off balance by Bi Zhen’s teasing. Previously, when Bi Zhen had attacked him openly, he could focus entirely on neutralizing her magic. Now, engaged in conversation and distracted by his passion for ancient texts, his defenses were weakened.
Though he realized the danger, it was already too late. Bi Zhen was watching closely, and he found it hard to recover. His internal energy stirred restlessly, his body grew hotter, and his desires surged beyond control.
He desperately clung to the last shreds of clarity, forcing his gaze away from Bi Zhen’s seductive face to escape her influence. Just as he was nearing his breaking point, his eyes fell on the silk scroll and the translated manuscript on the table. Suddenly, he had an idea. Summoning the last of his strength, he shouted, “Wrong!”
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