Chapter Four: A Place Hard to Call Home

Four days later, in the library.

Sincerity carefully flipped through the transcribed Taoist scriptures.

In front of him lay seven volumes of scriptures, each opened to a single page. These were the fruits of Chen Mu’s labor over the past few days.

Two of them had been copied by his predecessor, and the remaining five were transcribed by himself.

Sincerity set down the last scripture and picked up the very first volume again. “Let me browse through it once more, just a little longer.”

“Keep flipping and you’ll ruin the book,” Chen Mu reminded him expressionlessly.

Earlier, he said he’d just glance through it, but ended up reading every single character from start to finish.

Could this guy be trying to shirk his responsibility?

Chen Mu’s eyes narrowed as he quietly moved to the corner of the desk, his right hand stealthily touching the inkstone.

After a moment’s thought, his left hand slowly closed around the brush washer...

After a long pause, Sincerity reluctantly closed the book.

His eyes caught Chen Mu’s subtle movements, and his eyelids twitched sharply. Was this scholar really that fierce?

Although the handwriting had changed somewhat, it had become more fluid and elegant, rivaling even the inscriptions on the ancestral hall’s walls.

Upon close inspection, the characters clearly bore the lineage of the original handwriting.

He could only admire the other’s extraordinary talent and improved calligraphy skills.

He had never heard of any evil spirit inheriting the original author’s talents, let alone surpassing them.

He had truly misjudged the situation.

Just as Chen Mu was about to make a move—

Sincerity pulled a small gray cloth pouch from his sleeve.

“A little token of appreciation, a humble gesture.”

Chen Mu immediately smiled. “Not humble at all. Would you like to look some more?”

“No, the handwriting is beautiful and generous, evoking the ethereal grace of an immortal. Such exquisite calligraphy is rare. Young Master Li has exceptional talent and will surely become a master of his generation,” Sincerity flattered, though somewhat begrudgingly.

“Master Sincerity is too kind,” Chen Mu replied modestly.

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries before Chen Mu took his leave.

With the transcription complete, it was time to go home.

...

At the entrance of the Taoist temple, Chen Mu was bidding farewell to Sincerity.

“Eh?” Sincerity suddenly looked up and gazed into the distance.

Chen Mu followed his gaze.

The Qingfeng Temple was situated halfway up Little East Mountain, connected to the foot of the mountain by a stone staircase.

At that moment, a figure was dashing up from the base of the mountain.

Each stride covered five or six meters; after a few bounds, the person had already traversed half the mountain path.

Chen Mu watched in shock.

“How can someone run that fast?!”

His scalp tingled and his heart skipped a beat.

“This world really has martial arts that let people run on walls and leap across rooftops!”

He couldn’t help but think of the Taoist priests who practiced martial arts at Qingfeng Temple. Could they really perform such feats?

Chen Mu had assumed their exercises were merely health-preserving Qigong.

“Master Sincerity, does Qingfeng Temple teach martial arts?” Chen Mu asked with shining eyes.

Sincerity withdrew his gaze and glanced at Chen Mu. “Young Master Chen wants to learn martial arts?”

“Unfortunately, the temple only teaches martial arts to direct disciples,” Sincerity said lightly. “Young Master Chen is already an adult and does not meet the requirements to be accepted as a disciple.”

“Is there no provision for secular students?” Chen Mu persisted. This was martial arts that could leap across rooftops!

Sincerity smiled without answering.

Chen Mu was about to continue questioning when the figure at the foot of the mountain reached them.

Dressed in black close-fitting attire, with a black-handled wild goose feather saber hanging at his waist, the man approached with a gust of wind and anxiously asked, “Is Master Fengren here?”

“Captain Lu?!” Sincerity’s expression changed. “The master went down the mountain and has not returned. Has there been another encounter with evil spirits?”

Captain Lu glanced at Chen Mu. “Come inside, let’s talk.”

Standing at the temple gate, Chen Mu watched the two disappear inside, feeling inexplicably stirred.

Martial arts? Evil spirits?

This world was truly extraordinary!

He wanted to see how powerful the martial arts were, and understand exactly what these evil spirits were.

This unknown world was a vast treasure trove, waiting for him to explore.

Chen Mu’s blood boiled with excitement. “This world is huge. I want to see it for myself.”

...

At the east gate of Qingshan County, the East Market’s Grain and Rice Shop.

Just moments ago, Chen Mu had been fired up to explore the world. Now he felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

“Ten dou of white wheat, one cloth bag, sixty-two copper coins,” the shop assistant placed the gray cloth bag on the counter, smiling warmly at Chen Mu.

He still hadn’t warmed the 150 copper coins in his pocket, and now nearly half had gone.

If he ate without restraint, this wheat would last barely over half a month.

Adding the cost of firewood, oil, salt, brush, ink, paper, and inkstone...

Forget about traveling the world—if he couldn’t keep earning money, he might not even have food next month!

Life was hard...

...

Carrying the sack of rice, Chen Mu left the East Market, winding his way to Ping’an Lane in the southeast part of the county town.

According to his memory, he stopped in front of a courtyard.

This was his predecessor’s home. His father had died of illness a few years ago. His mother had passed away earlier, leaving him alone in this place.

Opening the bronze lock and pushing open the gray wooden door, Chen Mu stepped inside.

The small courtyard was modest. To the east was a vegetable patch; to the west, a thatched shed with a mud stove beneath it. Nearby was a well.

“Small sparrow though it is, it has all the essentials—a decent place.”

In the main room, directly opposite the door, stood a square table, with two long benches beside it.

Chen Mu approached the window on the west side.

There was a long wooden table holding pots, bowls, and utensils. Pouring the white wheat into a black rice jar beside the table, Chen Mu sat down at the square table to rest.

Since arriving in this world, with transmigration, evil spirits, calligraphy, and scripture transcription, he had never had a moment’s rest.

Now that everything had settled, he felt somewhat lost.

Was he going to live like his predecessor—making a living by writing and painting?

He could almost see the whole life ahead: scrimping and saving, working hard to accumulate money; when old enough, barely managing to marry a wife; then having a child whose filial piety was uncertain; and finally spending the rest of his days amid the noise of daily chores.

You could call it a peaceful life, but it could also be described as an unremarkable existence.

It was almost a replay of Chen Mu’s previous life.

But now that he had been given a chance through transmigration, he no longer wanted to live such a monotonous life!

He wanted to venture out! He wanted adventure...

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Open up!”

Who could it be? Chen Mu wondered as he opened the door.

A tall, thin man in his fifties stood at the entrance.

His face was cold and expressionless as he said plainly, “Rent collection.”

A flash of memory surged to Chen Mu’s mind.

Li Enwu, the Wang family’s second steward, the rent collector.

Though Chen Mu had lived in this house since childhood, it did not belong to him.

“Steward Li, please come in,” Chen Mu said politely.

“No need,” Steward Li waved his hand coldly. “Pay up.”

“Just a moment, I’ll get it right away,” Chen Mu replied, turning back inside. He pulled a black pottery jar from under the bed.

The jar was sealed with gray cloth, about the size of two fists.

He untied the seal and inverted it, coins clinking out in a small pile.

This was all the savings left by his predecessor.

Quickly counting out 310 copper coins into a small pouch, Chen Mu returned to the door.

“Steward Li, this is the rent for three months. Please take it.”

Li Enwu took the pouch, tapped it twice, nodded slightly, then tossed it to two burly men behind him and turned to leave.

Chen Mu closed the door and sighed, counting the remaining coins.

“Including what I earned from transcribing scriptures, I have 232 copper coins left.”

“Fat pork costs 24 copper coins a pound; with this money, I can’t even buy ten pounds.”

He wanted to brave the world, but first, he had to earn enough to eat.