Chapter 13: The Path of Theft
After obtaining the Thousand chanism Poetry Lock,
from morning till night, Lin Xiaowan shut herself in, devoting all her energy to unlocking it.
“Viewing the Waterfall at Mount Lu,” “Moon over the Mountain Pass,” “Song of Mount Ei’s Moon,” “Gazing at Tiann Mountain”… one poem after another was dredged up from the depths of her mory, transford into the sequence of presses beneath her fingertips.
Each ti a poem was unlocked, more complex chanical sounds echoed from within the lock, the arrangent of the surface characters shifting accordingly, and even more obscure words appearing at the top, pointing toward the next poem.
The private room gradually changed in appearance.
On the desk, the floor, and even beside the bed, countless sheets of paper filled with writing were scattered everywhere.
So bore complete verses, others fragnted phrases, and even more contained various combinations and deductions.
Lin Xiaowan wore a plain white nightdress, her long black hair unbound and loosely draped. Ink stains dotted her skirt hem and sleeves.
At tis she frowned in deep thought, at tis she bent over the desk writing rapidly. Finally, the hint on the lock pointed to the last key character—“Sorrow.”
Just as Lin Xiaowan prepared to see what this so-called opportunity truly was,
she got stuck.
The bright moon hung high.
Lin Xiaowan sat before the ssy desk, her hair slightly disheveled, her dress covered in ink stains, and even her fair cheek bore a streak of ink.
The brush in her hand had already dried. The paper before her was filled with verses related to “Sorrow,” yet not a single one triggered the chanism.
“Drawing my sword to cut the water, the water flows still; raising a cup to dispel sorrow, sorrow grows heavier?”
Not right.
“The moon sets, crows cry, frost fills the sky; by river maples and fishing lights, I sleep with sorrow?”
Still not right.
“How much sorrow can one have? Like a river of spring water flowing east?”
Still wrong!
Irritated, she hooked another sheet covered in verses from the corner with her foot, glanced at it, and shook her head helplessly. Dozens of poems had flashed through her mind, yet not one matched.
“…Couldn’t it have been made a little simpler?” Lin Xiaowan muttered, rubbing her aching temples.
Continuous high-intensity recalling, deduction, and trial-and-error—even with a cultivator’s ntal strength—left her feeling a trace of fatigue.
She stared at the cold character “Sorrow,” pondering until she nearly cornered herself in her thoughts, when a gentle knock sounded at the door.
“Co in.”
Without lifting her head, Lin Xiaowan assud it was Honggu or Leshan and Leshui bringing sothing.
The door opened—but it was Xiao ier who entered.
Today she wore a rose-red dress that accentuated her delicate complexion. However, faint dark circles lingered under her eyes, and her expression was sowhat awkward and conflicted.
Lin Xiaowan glanced at her from the corner of her eye and continued grinding ink, asking indifferently, “Why is it you?”
“Why can’t it be ?” Xiao ier retorted stiffly.
Lin Xiaowan raised her head, her gaze pausing briefly at the dark circles under her eyes. “Did you sleep poorly last night?”
Xiao ier grew guilty under her gaze, her eyes darting. “None of your business…”
Seeing her awkward deanor, Lin Xiaowan recalled the faint sounds she had heard from next door the previous night and understood… this was one advantage of being a woman—one need not focus entirely during such matters and could let the mind wander elsewhere.
“Y-you! Why are you staring at without saying anything!” Xiao ier crossed her arms and took two steps back.
Lin Xiaowan smiled faintly, then put on a trace of apologetic concern. “I was thinking about how to apologize to you, Sister. The noise last night was rather loud—I wonder if it disturbed your rest?”
“You!” Xiao ier instantly reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her face flushing red as she nearly rushed forward to fight her. “Xu Fu! Don’t be so full of yourself!”
Seeing she was about to explode, Lin Xiaowan changed the subject.
“Alright, let’s talk business. You didn’t co here just to be humiliated, did you?”
Xiao ier glared at her fiercely, her chest rising and falling before she reluctantly said, “It… it was Honggu who told to co.”
“Oh?”
“She said your poetry is very good, even Young Master Qin praised you, so she told … told to learn from you.” Xiao ier’s voice grew softer as she spoke, clearly feeling extrely embarrassed.
Lin Xiaowan understood.
It seed Qin Bai had indeed ntioned her “poetry recitation” to Honggu that morning.
Honggu likely intended to use this opportunity to ease the tension between them—a clever plan.
But Lin Xiaowan’s “poetic talent” was entirely borrowed—how could she truly teach anyone?
After a brief thought, she pointed to the stool across the desk. “Since it’s Honggu’s arrangent, please sit.”
Xiao ier hesitated, then sat down.
Lin Xiaowan casually wrote the character “Sorrow” on a sheet of paper and pushed it in front of her. “Since you’re learning poetry, start with practicing calligraphy and grasping the mood. Here—this ‘Sorrow’ character. Feel it carefully and try to match it with a line of poetry. If you don’t finish, you’re not allowed to leave.”
She intended to wear down Xiao ier’s patience so she would retreat on her own, leaving Lin Xiaowan in peace to think through the final puzzle.
Xiao ier looked at the ink-soaked “Sorrow,” wrinkled her delicate nose, picked up the brush, and almost without thinking scribbled:
“Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow—Xu the demon seduces Young Master Qin.”
“I’m done. That was pretty easy!”
Lin Xiaowan glanced at it. “You call that poetry?”
Xiao ier snorted and bent down to write again.
But in the ti that followed, she never stayed still.
At tis she leaned over the desk writing, “ier suffers, ignored by all; Xu the demon flaunts and draws disgust,” at tis she sprawled on the couch, kicking her legs while muttering, “I grieve that Young Master Qin’s heart was stolen—when will he return to my bed…”
Every “poem” she wrote found ways to attack “Xu Fu” for stealing Qin Bai, venting her emotions.
Like a chirping sparrow, she constantly made noise in the quiet room.
Sneaking a glance, Xiao ier saw Lin Xiaowan had no reaction and grew bolder.
She was never one to sit still. As she wrote, she beca distracted—sotis propping her chin in a daze, sotis rolling about on the couch.
Lin Xiaowan’s thoughts were repeatedly interrupted, her irritation growing as she stared at the “Sorrow” character.
Finally unable to endure it, she slamd the brush onto the table with a “啪” and said coldly, “Xiao ier, if you continue scribbling nonsense instead of properly thinking, then get out!”
Xiao ier shrank back, seeing she was truly angry, yet felt wronged. “I… I’m not trying to cause trouble! Learning poetry is just too hard! Why does Honggu always make learn music, chess, calligraphy, and painting? I only know how to dance—I really can’t learn this!”
As if completely giving up, she slumped in her chair, waving her hands exaggeratedly and lanting in a near-comical tone:
“Ahhh—! Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow! A thousand sorrows, ten thousand sorrows, endless sorrow! I’m going to die of sorrow—!”
This nonsensical, childish complaint struck Lin Xiaowan like a sudden bolt of lightning!
“Ten thousand sorrows?”
“No—not ten thousand sorrows… it’s ‘eternal sorrow’!”
All the clues accumulated before, all the poems she had unlocked—they were all works of Li Bai!
Then this final “Sorrow” must correspond to Li Bai’s “Bring in the Wine”!
“That’s it. How could I forget such a poem? I was blinded by a single leaf.”
Her heart pounded violently, nearly leaping from her chest.
Forcing herself to calm down, she took a deep breath and said to Xiao ier, who was still sulking with puffed cheeks, “That’s enough for today. My guest will arrive tonight—I need to bathe and change. You should go.”
Xiao ier froze, not expecting to be dismissed so suddenly. “Eh? I—”
Before she could finish, Lin Xiaowan had already stood up and, right in front of her, began loosening the ties of her nightdress as if truly preparing to change.
“Ah!” Xiao ier shrieked. “Y-you! Have you no sha!”
Half of Lin Xiaowan’s garnt had already slipped down, revealing her smooth shoulder. She turned back with a faint smile. “At least I have more sha than soone who stays up at midnight, pressing against the wall to eavesdrop.”
Xiao ier was struck like lightning. Her greatest secret exposed, she flushed with embarrassnt, stamring incoherently before stomping her foot and fleeing, covering her face—forgetting even to close the door.
“Finally sent her away.”
Lin Xiaowan stopped her movents, shut and locked the door, then walked to the pile of papers, bending down to pick up the Thousand chanism Poetry Lock.
Her fingertips trembled faintly as she pressed the characters in sequence according to “Bring in the Wine.”
“…With—you—together—dissolve—eternal—sorrow!”
“Click!”
The raised characters on the surface of the lock simultaneously retracted inward, becoming smooth as a mirror.
Then, along nearly invisible seams, the lock slowly opened outward like a blooming flower, revealing a small hidden space at its core.
Lin Xiaowan remained extrely cautious. The mont it opened, she had already retreated several steps, Mirage Qi circulating around her dantian, ready to respond to any trap or anomaly.
However—nothing happened.
No hidden weapons, no poison gas, no released creature.
After a few breaths of silence, she carefully stepped forward and looked inside.
Within lay a… book? Rather than a book, it was a jade slip no wider than a fingernail and smaller than her palm.
The jade was warm and lustrous, emitting a faint glow. Fine patterns flowed across its surface, yet there were no visible words.
Lin Xiaowan cautiously picked it up. It felt cool to the touch, carrying a strange sense of affinity.
Observing closely, she noticed what seed to be a title page—but it would not open. After so thought, she sent a strand of her divine sense into it.
The mont her divine sense made contact, light flowed across the jade surface. On the previously blank “cover,” a single character slowly appeared—etched like iron strokes and silver hooks, ancient and profound:
Steal!
This character carried an indescribable Dao resonance.
Lin Xiaowan’s mind trembled as she continued probing with her divine sense.
Though the jade slip appeared to have only one page, it contained an entire world within. Her consciousness seed to push open an invisible door, “seeing” what lay beyond the title page.
A passage of text—not engraved, but directly reflected within her sea of consciousness:
Stealing is not gaining without labor, but the supre thod of imitating heaven and earth and pursuing ultimate efficiency.
Heaven and earth themselves are the greatest thieves.
They seize yin and yang to form day and night, steal the four seasons to create spring and autumn, and take the essence of all things to nourish themselves—this is the theft of heaven and earth, grand and beyond reproach.
He who steals a hook is executed; he who steals a nation becos a lord.
The laws of the world are nothing more than distinctions in the scale and skill of theft.
Gathering people into power and making the masses sustain you—this is stealing strength. Establishing systems and drawing in the spiritual energy of heaven and earth—this is stealing opportunity. Seizing the enemy’s resources to strengthen oneself—this is stealing montum.
The text was not long, yet it resounded like a great bell, shaking Lin Xiaowan’s mind for a long ti.
Suddenly, realization dawned.
To seize by force is theft. To exchange benefits is theft. Even… the Dual Cultivation thod of the Profound Essence Scripture she practiced—was it not, in essence, a form of “stealing” Primordial Yang and Female Essence?
And today, opening this Thousand chanism Poetry Lock and obtaining a predecessor’s inheritance—was that not also a kind of “theft” of an immortal opportunity?
All things are theft!
As her thoughts raced and enlightennt flickered—
The jade scripture in her hand suddenly radiated light, growing scorching hot!
Startled, before she could react, the jade slip turned into a streak of light with a “whoosh” and shot directly into her dantian, disappearing without a trace!
She examined her inner body and saw the jade scripture floating within her dantian, emitting a gentle glow.
At this mont, the scripture automatically flipped to the second page in her perception.
On it were recorded two specific techniques:
The first: Sneak Attack. When activated, it produces a blue phantom that lunges at the enemy. However, to cultivate it, one must use the corpse of an infant.
“An infant corpse… in Drunken Immortal Pavilion, obtaining one wouldn’t be difficult…”
Lin Xiaowan thought this, then shifted her attention to the second technique.
—Formless Hand
Formless Hand required no prior condition like Sneak Attack. By circulating spiritual power, one could form a pale blue hand capable of shifting between the tangible and intangible, stealing others’ belongings and magical artifacts—nearly impossible to guard against!
Moreover, as one’s cultivation increased, the power of Formless Hand would grow with the number of fingers: one finger steals from Qi Refinent, two fingers steal from Foundation Establishnt, three fingers steal from Core Formation…
Lin Xiaowan slowly opened her eyes. Light flowed within them, and a trace of joy appeared between her brows.
Having just arrived in this world, she had cultivated with the Profound Essence Scripture as her foundation, yet lacked thods to confront enemies. Now, having obtained the inheritance of the Path of Theft,
her shortcomings were finally redied.
Once she condensed her Qi Sea and mastered these two techniques, she would at last possess the ans to protect herself and engage in combat in this world.
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