“Elder Xunlin has been living a secluded life in recent years. She only comes down to Think-Over Cliff to give sermons on the first and fifteenth of each month,”
Senior Sister Qiao lightly leapt down from the library balcony, landing as softly as a feather.
She dusted off her sleeves, picked up the ancient book wrapped in dust, and said, “Though she doesn’t accept disciples, Elder Xunlin always puts extra care into those she feels a connection with. Your Requesting Monster Techniques is such an obscure subject besides her, I doubt anyone else can truly explain its secrets to you.”
Lin Nan’s fingertips pinched the cover of Requesting Monster Techniques, her throat clogged with words unsaid.
“What, don’t dare to go?” Senior Sister Qiao raised a hand, and a bamboo basket filled with vegetables slowly floated down into her palm.
Turning around, she caught Lin Nan seemingly lost in thought, her brows raised high. “Could it be you’re afraid that the Supreme Elder has a strange temper? You didn’t seem the type to shy away from confrontation when you scolded him right in front of Senior Brother.”
“No,” Lin Nan closed the book, her jade-green eyes misted with vague emotions she couldn’t explain. “I’m just worried about being too abrupt.”
“A cultivator seeks the Dao, there’s no such thing as too abrupt or not,” Senior Sister Qiao smiled, giving her a gentle shove. She hooked the basket’s handle over Lin Nan’s elbow.
“Besides, your constitution is somewhat like an old acquaintance Elder Xunlin once mentioned, both a bit difficult to classify. Why not give it a try? Maybe it really is fate.”
Lin Nan didn’t reply. She carried the bamboo basket and left the library.
The morning dew dampened the stone steps, reflecting her white hair.
Think-Over Cliff was quieter than she had imagined.
The blue stone stairs wound downward, flanked by pine and cypress trees dusted with frost that creaked underfoot.
The farther down she went, the thicker the scent of sandalwood grew, intertwining with the fading reverberations of the Buddhist bell and the soft tapping of the wooden fish. The delicate threads of fragrance crept into Lin Nan’s bones barely refreshing, but enough to calm the mind.
At the end of the path lay a lone earthen mound without a tombstone. Before it knelt a gray-clad figure.
It was Elder Xunlin.
She had her back to Lin Nan, carefully wiping the stone altar in front of the mound with a piece of plain white hemp cloth.
Lin Nan stopped three steps away.
“You’ve arrived.”
Elder Xunlin’s voice broke the silence. Without looking back, she continued wiping, the cloth making a soft rustling sound against the stone. “Why stand so far away? Afraid I’ll eat you?”
Lin Nan steadied herself, lifted her skirt, and stepped forward. The frost on the steps wet her shoe tips, and the chill climbed slowly upward.
“I am disciple Lin Nan, here to respectfully ask Elder Xunlin about Requesting Monster Techniques.”
Only then did Elder Xunlin turn.
Her gaze first fell on the scroll Lin Nan held, then slowly moved upward until it settled on Lin Nan’s hair.
“Requesting Monster Techniques revolves around ‘binding the monster’s soul,” Elder Xunlin averted her eyes, pointing at the blank scroll on the stone altar. “Write out the incantation once for me. Let me see where you’re mistaken.”
Lin Nan obeyed, lifting the brush. The tip of the wolf-hair brush soaked in thick black ink, dropping a small ink blot on the paper.
She lowered her head and began writing. The scent of ink mingled with sandalwood filled her nostrils, while the brush tip made a soft rustling sound on the rice paper.
Suddenly, the brush halted.
Elder Xunlin had quietly moved closer, her breath cold with sandalwood fragrance brushing against Lin Nan’s ear.
“Here.” Her finger pointed to the last stroke of the character Qi. Her nails were neatly trimmed and smooth.
“Monster power is Yin; the stroke for ‘Qi’ should be made with a side brush, hiding a trace of hostility. You wrote it too straight, like a temple novice copying scriptures.”
Lin Nan’s earlobe flushed, not from the unexpected closeness, but from the warmth of that fingertip.
When Shu Ying first learned to write as a child, she always pressed her icy fingertips against Lin Nan’s hand. Now it was still just as cold.
“Disciples are dull,” Lin Nan shrank back slightly, creating half a foot of distance. Stray hairs brushed her cheek, her expression respectful yet serious.
Elder Xunlin’s hand froze midair, then nonchalantly withdrew. She turned toward the clothes-and-bones tomb. “Do you know whose tomb this is?”
Lin Nan’s heart skipped a beat but she feigned ignorance. “Judging by its layout, it must be someone who made great contributions to Qingyun Sect.”
“An old acquaintance,” Elder Xunlin’s voice was soft, like wind brushing through withered grass on the mound. “She was a Tiger Monster.”
Lin Nan’s grip tightened on the brush. Ink dripped from the tip, blooming into an ugly blotch on the scroll.
“A Tiger Monster?” she tried to sound surprised. “Weren’t the monster clans exterminated a thousand years ago?”
“Yes,” Elder Xunlin’s voice deepened, tinged with a lonely pride forged by time. “She was the last of her kind.”
Lin Nan’s breath caught.
“Did the Elder know her?”
“More than just knowing,” Elder Xunlin’s voice choked slightly. “We knew each other for a long time.”
She suddenly stepped close, almost whispering into Lin Nan’s ear, “Tell me, if she hadn’t died, what would she have become? Perhaps…”
She paused. “A cat?”
“You jest, Elder!”
The girl’s voice lost its gentleness, matching the chill in Elder Xunlin’s words.
“The tiger is the mountain lord; a cat is a house pet. There’s a world of difference.”
Elder Xunlin looked at Lin Nan’s solemn face, the light in her eyes dimming little by little.
Indeed.
“Enough.” She stood, the plain white sleeve taking the bamboo basket with food. “That’s all for today. Come again tomorrow. Copy the third chapter of Requesting Monster Techniques ten times. I will check it.”
“Yes.”
Lin Nan silently left Think-Over Cliff. The ink stain on her skirt swayed with each step. She pulled a white talisman from her sleeve a crooked little talisman Shu Ying had slipped to her before she left.
She looked at it a slightly crooked cold-proof talisman, with some flour dusting the edges.
Drawn in vermilion was a small white cat with pointed ears, its tail flicked high. Beside it, crooked words read: “It’s cold under Think-Over Cliff, keep it warm! Awooo!”
That little girl…
Lin Nan suddenly felt speechless.
Speechless, but then she burst out laughing.
“Deserve a beating,” the girl murmured softly, her steps lightening.
At Think-Over Cliff, Elder Xunlin still stood before the clothes-and-bones tomb.
She picked up the wolf-hair brush Lin Nan had dropped; the tip still wet with fresh ink. She involuntarily began copying the blank scroll.
“Even the pressure when writing is different.”
She muttered, “When she writes the character Ying, she always presses down on the last stroke, like a tiger flicking its tail. But you…”
She looked at the incantation Lin Nan had written. The brush strokes were soft, like a cat’s paw treading on snow. “You’re so gentle. How could it be you?”
“Enough.”
She packed away the scroll and motioned casually. A cold light appeared in her palm.
In the next moment, a silver-white longsword materialized in her hand. The blue-green energy around it shattered against the blade, falling several inches before turning into a mist that rose again.
“When you master Requesting Monster Techniques, I will teach you swordsmanship.”
At least… at least holding a sword like this could make her feel that something had been mended.
Even if the fate from a past life had been severed, at least this lifetime’s connection could still be protected.
Don’t you agree, Teacher?