Chapter Eight: Keep a Low Profile! Keep a Low Profile!

Having taken the great first step, Feng Liqian threw herself into winning over Feng Queyi, and their friendship advanced at lightning speed. At last, thanks to Feng Queyi’s kind words, the High Priest lifted the restrictions that had bound her.

The next day, brimming with hope, Feng Liqian moved to the back mountain. She still lived alone in a thatched hut, but now, she was neighbors with Feng Queyi.

To the right of Feng Queyi’s hut lay a patch of empty ground where all sorts of strange flowers and grasses grew. Feng Liqian recognized none of them, and though she wanted to ask about them, Feng Queyi was busy cultivating and had no time to spare.

It was said that the back mountain was the sacred ground of the Feng clan; ordinary people could not enter on a whim. Afraid she might accidentally offend some taboo, Feng Liqian dared not wander and could only stay in her hut, staring at her Phoenix Jade Tablet. No matter how she scraped, she could not remove the layer of sand and soil from its surface. It seemed it would remain that way forever.

Finally, she caught sight of Feng Queyi emerging from her hut with a small stone hoe. Feng Liqian hurried out, delighted. "Queyi, you’re done cultivating! Wonderful, let me help you plant flowers." Yet her heart was full of tears—just to learn about a few plants, she had to feign innocence, acting like a child despite being in her twenties.

Feng Queyi smiled and corrected her, "These aren’t ordinary flowers. They are spiritual herbs I collected from outside. Look, this row is clover, the main ingredient for the Rejuvenation Pill..." She proceeded to introduce each spiritual herb in detail.

Feng Liqian listened carefully, secretly memorizing their names and effects.

In less than a quarter of an hour, she had memorized them all—ten types, roughly. She also learned the main ingredients for both the Spiritual Essence Pill and the Rejuvenation Pill.

"Thank you, Queyi," she said sincerely.

Feng Queyi waved her hand, her smile fading as she spoke seriously, "It’s nothing. These are basic skills all cultivators must master. Even Ke’er knows them. The High Priest ordered me to teach them to you. Some herbs aren’t planted here, but they’re stored in the medicine hut. After lunch, I’ll take you to see them."

Feng Liqian was exasperated—she’d gone to such lengths to inquire, only to find out they had planned to teach her all along.

What is this?

Thinking herself clever, only to be outwitted! How embarrassing, being toyed with by ancestors from a primitive society.

Feng Queyi glanced at her, a hint of mischief flashing in her eyes, and sighed, her brow furrowed in mild distress. "You only have three days, and there’s much to learn. I know you speak the common tongue well, but how are you with writing?"

Clearly, she was asking if she was literate! Liqian, an outstanding graduate of a prestigious university’s history and archaeology department, assistant at a renowned archaeological institute, now suspected of being illiterate in a primitive society!

But Feng Liqian dared not reveal her modern airs.

Without strength, humility is the path—her late mentor’s maxim.

So, she replied modestly, "I only know a few characters."

"That’s good enough," Feng Queyi said, raising her right hand. In her palm appeared a tortoiseshell. "This records Ke’er’s cultivation technique. Normally, non-cultivators aren’t allowed access to cultivation techniques, but the High Priest said extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. This is your fortune. There’s little time, so I hope you can memorize the incantations quickly."

Feng Liqian gritted her teeth in thanks and took the shell with both hands.

Before she could even see what kind of writing was inscribed, Feng Queyi added, "Cultivation techniques are sacred and must not be desecrated. They should be recorded on jade slips, and I should have given you one. But since you lack spiritual roots and can’t use jade slips, the High Priest had me engrave the technique onto this tortoiseshell for you. Remember, never show it to anyone, lest your identity be questioned. If you have questions, feel free to ask me these next two days."

She spoke so aggrievedly, as if Liqian had sullied the precious technique. Now Liqian truly felt her pride wounded.

Still, she could not show even the slightest dissatisfaction.

Because a cultivation failure is not to be trifled with!

"Thank you, Queyi," she endured, smiling meekly. "Please bear with me if I am slow to learn."

Feng Queyi gave her a compassionate look and lifted her lips. "Then I won’t disturb your studies."

In other words, class was dismissed. Why aren’t you rushing back to do your homework?

And so, Feng Liqian cradled the tortoiseshell like a treasure and dutifully returned to her hut to "diligently study."

Study? Hardly! She had just glanced at it—the characters were clearly the oracle bone script of later generations. She was well versed in it.

Her ability to read these characters was thanks to her late mentor.

He loved bronzeware, claiming poverty in his youth prevented him from studying archaeology formally. His lifelong pursuit was amateur, yet in Liqian’s professional opinion, he was remarkable: he recognized more oracle bone and bronze script than most professors in their department, and his talk of bronzeware was masterful.

Under his influence, Liqian developed a deep interest in these scripts, specializing in bronze inscriptions at university, and he taught her everything he knew.

On the tortoiseshell, the inscription read: "The Opening to Heaven Formula: The Great Way is merciless; compassion leads to destruction, mercilessness leads to life; to seek the Great Way, one must first sever emotion."

And nothing more.

Liqian was dumbfounded, nearly bursting into laughter—what kind of cultivation incantation was this! It was a blatant rewrite of the first line of the Evil-Dispelling Sword Manual. No wonder Feng Ke’er failed to draw spiritual energy after five years of cultivation.

Thankfully, her own "Heavenly Tome" didn’t contain such nonsense. Otherwise, she’d have thrown it away.

After the amusement faded, she grew contemplative. In this era, literacy must be extraordinary. From her historical knowledge, only priests and the like could read. Illiteracy was normal.

Moreover, the Feng clan truly seemed cursed, unable to keep talent. The tragic fates of the genius saintess from ten thousand years ago, the five-spirit-root saintess who died young, and Ke’er’s mysterious disappearance a month ago were proof enough.

The more she recalled the High Priest’s words, the more she sensed the High Priest seemed pleased she was a failure. It made sense—the more useless she was, the easier to control!

Whenever the High Priest furrowed her brow, a pressure like Mount Tai threatened to crush her, as if killing her would be easier than squashing an ant. All Liqian’s modern pride in civilization was swept away by that chilling wind.

She sighed—under the low eaves, who dares not bow their head? From now on, she was illiterate!

Unbeknownst to her, while she pondered the High Priest, the High Priest was discussing her with Feng Queyi.

After hearing Queyi’s report, the High Priest’s delicate brows knotted into a dark tangle, her eyes half-closed, silent for a long time.

Queyi hesitated, then cautiously asked, "High Priest, she’s just an ordinary person without spiritual roots. Do we really need to guard against her?" No matter how useless, she was a cultivator, and cultivators had their pride. A mere mortal was beneath their notice—let alone worth guarding against.

At this, the High Priest’s eyes snapped open. "Foolish. The survival of our clan is at stake—how can you treat this lightly? By her features, she does not seem the docile type. Yet, every time I use the Mind Mirror to scan her soul, I find nothing strange… In any case, keep a close watch. Do not let anything slip."

Queyi agreed, but inwardly dismissed it—the High Priest was being overly cautious. She thought, "She’s just a mortal, like an ant. What mischief could she possibly do? If nothing shows up, then there’s nothing."

The High Priest saw through her thoughts, snorted, and though her face showed displeasure, she patiently warned, "Queyi, nothing is absolute. Generally, the Mind Mirror yields no results only with two types: one, cultivators whose power exceeds your own—then you see a sea of clouds; two, the dead—their soul sea is pitch black. But do you know what I saw in her soul?"

"What did you see?" Queyi was curious. She had no Mind Mirror, and as a Qi Refining cultivator, could only use the basic Heart-Peeking technique, which most low-level cultivators avoided since many high-level ones used Concealment Talismans. If you used Heart-Peeking on such a person, you could lose a great deal of spiritual power, or worse, suffer lasting damage.

The other day, she had exhausted her spiritual power using Heart-Peeking on Feng Liqian, but only after confirming she was an ordinary mortal.

Her divine sense encountered a mass of blazing light. The heat was intense, and sensing danger, she hurriedly withdrew. Even in that brief encounter, her divine sense was singed, her spiritual power depleted by two-thirds. She secretly took a Spirit-Recovery Pill, but it was no use. Before she could recover, she suffered backlash from the Tongyan technique.

Naturally, she was too embarrassed to tell the High Priest—injured while spying on a mortal’s soul was humiliating.

So, she was especially curious what the High Priest had seen.

"A vortex," said the High Priest, her face dark. "A huge, dazzling white vortex. I’ve never encountered anything like it—never even heard of such a thing."

Queyi was stunned—a woman with a giant vortex in her soul! How could such a person exist?

"Keep this to yourself, do not speak of it," the High Priest said, closing her eyes and waving Queyi away.

After leaving, Queyi stood outside Liqian’s hut, taking several deep breaths to calm herself.

But then Liqian’s words shattered her composure.

Feng Liqian claimed she couldn’t read the characters on the tortoiseshell.

"Our writing isn’t like this," she insisted. Heaven could testify—she was telling the truth!

A saintess illiterate? Would the people of the Azure Cloud Sect believe it? Queyi felt her temples throbbing as she weakly replied, "No problem, I’ll teach you." She prayed fervently: "Great Pangu, please let this girl learn all these characters in three days."

But, as always, the Great Pangu ignored her. Three days later, Queyi reported to the High Priest in deep frustration, "High Priest, she can now recognize all the characters, but still can’t write half of them."

The High Priest sighed. "Very well, go and tell her to bathe and change clothes. Fairy Moxue just sent a message—she’ll arrive at noon."

Some peak rolls around, begging for votes, reviews, favorites, and clicks.

Heavenly Tome, Chapter 8: "Low Profile! Low Profile!" completed.