Two Realms: Starting with transmitting the Taiping Jing to Zhang Jiao

"Master, your wooden staff looks like an antique?"

The night was dark, and Song Ling squinted, somewhat uncertain, wanting to get closer for a better look.

"It was just a gift from a friend." Yi Chuan hid the wooden staff behind his back.

"Chuanzi, I'm so glad you're alright. I couldn't get through to you on the phone, I thought something had happened to you."

Village Chief Huang didn't know anything about antiques. Seeing that Yi Chuan was alright and the temple hadn't been disturbed, he sat down on the threshold of Baiyun Temple, panting heavily.

"It's very late, and the mountain path is steep and dangerous to go down. Let's make do for the night at the temple."

Looking at the villagers in front of him, Yi Chuan was somewhat moved and disregarded the rule at Baiyun Temple that forbade believers from staying overnight.

"Even if you try to drive the village chief away, he won't be able to move." The village chief chuckled twice. In this kind of rural village, there weren't many formalities or formalities.

With the village chief leading the way, and having watched Yi Chuan grow up, the villagers entered Baiyun Temple without ceremony. Song Ling still had doubts about the wooden staff, her eyes fixed on Yi Chuan's left hand, but Yi Chuan hid it well, making her even more suspicious.

There weren't enough rooms in the backyard to sleep in, so the villagers had to sleep on the floor in the Baiyun Hall. To Yi Chuan's surprise, Liu Yingying and her colleague also came up the mountain with the villagers.

Fortunately, neither of them were pretentious, and they found a corner in the main hall to sleep on the floor.

Yi Chuan was still somewhat dazed. After settling the villagers in, he went back to his room to rest.

Having spent twenty-five years in the Eastern Han Dynasty, everything at Baiyun Temple felt somewhat unfamiliar. After searching through the room for a long time, I finally found my phone. After unlocking it with my fingerprint, I found it filled with missed calls from the village chief.

Yi Chuan opened his browser and searched for the history of the Eastern Han Dynasty, looking for the fates of those he knew.

Upon reading the account in the historical record of Zhang Xiu being attacked and killed by Zhang Lu, Yi Chuan couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy.

Despite his own warnings, he still had no defenses against Zhang Xiu, the son of his old friend.

Zhao Hong, the child he saved in the ancient temple, also died. The Yellow Turban Army suffered a crushing defeat and, after Zhang Jiao's death, became a disorganized mess, serving as a backdrop for the rise of a warlord in that chaotic era.

The Yellow Turban Rebellion was annihilated, but the Way of Peace survived. Among the Three Caverns and Nine Sub-Channels of Taoism, there has always been a Taiping Division, and its successors have emerged in modern times.

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: ①⓪①ⓚⓚⓢ.ⓒⓞⓜ]

Yi Chuan felt a little comforted.

"Peace will eventually come..."

Putting down his phone, Yi Chuan seemed to see again the arrogant young man who had asked Jing Taiping for advice.

But that was two thousand years ago.

I opened the window with a sense of melancholy. The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the night sky over Baiyun Mountain as clear as water.

The dim crescent moon on the back of Yi Chuan's hand flickered, revealing a faint glow.

-----------------

"It's all your fault! You insisted on dragging me up the mountain; my legs are killing me!"

Inside the main hall, Liu Yingying complained, rubbing her aching heels, and said she didn't want to move anymore.

Song Ling pointed at Liu Yingying's forehead in annoyance: "How could I possibly pull you? It's just that you were curious about the red light on the mountain yourself."

Liu Yingying pouted: "Then why didn't you stop me at all?"

With a sigh, Liu Yingying lay down fully clothed on the pillow Yi Chuan had brought her, her eyes vacant.

"But the magnificent red glow at the mountaintop just now was truly beautiful..."

Summer had already arrived, and the two girls were wearing long sleeves. Although they were on a mountain, they didn't feel cold once the gates of Baiyun Palace were closed.

They chatted idly at Baiyun Temple, and inevitably the topic of Yi Chuan came up.

"This young Taoist priest is quite pitiful. He got cancer before finishing high school and was abandoned by his parents, which is why he was adopted by the old abbot of Baiyun Temple."

"I heard that her parents have already had a child outside the home and haven't come back for the Lunar New Year."

"My grades in my final year of high school were also very good. I ranked first in the county's joint exam. If I hadn't gotten sick, I might have applied to Sichuan University."

Song Lingdong talked about various things, mostly things she had heard from the village chief and other villagers.

Understanding the implication in Song Ling's words, Liu Yingying frowned and lowered her voice.

"My dear Miss Song, the fate of Baiyun Temple is not something I can decide. The people who have their eyes on this place are not as simple as you think; they are not people Yi Chuan can afford to offend..."

"Anyway, he won't live much longer. It would be a disaster for a dying man to occupy this Taoist temple."

Song Ling fell silent, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the roof beams of the White Cloud Hall.

Liu Yingying frowned, and finally added:

"I'm doing this for his own good."

Rural people are used to going to bed early, and at this moment, the snoring of Village Chief Huang and the villagers could be heard from the darkness on the other side of the main hall.

After finishing their conversation with Yi Chuan, Liu Yingying and Song Ling tossed and turned, unable to sleep on the hard bluestone slab.

"I'm going to the restroom."

Song Ling turned over, wanting to call Liu Yingying to come with her, but Liu Yingying's legs ached and she refused to go, so Song Ling had to turn on her phone's flashlight and go by herself.

The toilets at Baiyun Temple are located in the back wing.

After relieving himself, he heard a noise coming from the backyard of Baiyun Temple. He pushed open the door and saw that the young Taoist priest had set up a table in the courtyard and was writing something by the light of the moon.

"Are the believers still not resting?"

Just as I was wondering, the Taoist priest under the moonlight suddenly smiled and raised his head.

Surprised by Yi Chuan's perception, Song Ling could only awkwardly push open the door and walk into the courtyard.

"I noticed strange noises coming from your yard, and the gate wasn't closed, so I was a little curious..."

Before she could finish speaking, Song Ling's gaze was immediately drawn to the handwriting in Yi Chuan's pen.

Those weren't Chinese characters at all! They were an ancient script, with a flowing, elegant style, somewhat resembling the seal script of the Qin and Han dynasties.

A small stack of papers had already been piled up on Yi Chuan's desk, indicating that he had been writing for several hours.

"This is?"

Forgetting all manners, Song Ling stepped forward and picked up a piece of paper that Yi Chuan had written. She was somewhat shocked as she examined it one by one, finding it to be filled with densely packed seal script characters.

She didn't major in ancient writing in college, so although she could identify it as seal script, she couldn't translate it.

Yi Chuan looked at her and smiled calmly: "I have a bad memory for some scriptures, and I'm worried that I'll forget them one day, so I copied them down in advance to save them."

"Will it be copied in seal script?"

Song Ling's eyes still held disbelief as she instinctively reached for her phone to take a picture and send it to her university classmate, who was an expert in ancient seal script, for translation.

Without making a sound, Yi Chuan took the paper from Song Ling's hand and said calmly, "The old abbot of Baiyun Temple likes to teach ancient seal script, so I'm used to writing like this."

With her phone frozen in mid-air, Song Ling realized her actions were somewhat presumptuous and awkwardly put it away.

After taking back the paper, Yi Chuan did not chase Song Ling away, but continued writing diligently.

Song Ling was initially a little uncomfortable, but she was quickly drawn to Yi Chuan's writing style.

It didn't seem like a pretentious, random writing at all; rather, it was as if it were a copy made with the original object as a reference. The speed was extremely fast, and a copy was completed in just a few minutes.

Seal script is something that only experts and gurus specialize in. How many people in China can recognize and write it, let alone write it so fluently?

All the experts in ancient scripts that Song Ling knew were white-haired old men. How could Yi Chuan, a 20-year-old Taoist priest who dropped out of high school, have such profound knowledge of ancient seal script?

Recalling the nine-section staff in Yi Chuan's hand, Song Ling looked at Yi Chuan with a hint of curiosity.

This Taoist priest Yi Chuan has more secrets than I imagined.

One person writes, and one person reads.

Neither of them spoke under the moonlight; the only sounds were the chirping of cicadas and the scratching of Yi Chuan's pen on the paper.

After a long while, as if he was tired of writing, Yi Chuan stretched out a long yawn.

"Good believer, I am curious about the 'Jade Capital' that you mentioned in the main hall during the day."

Putting down his pen, Yi Chuan calmly looked at Song Ling, a flash of deep six-colored light passing through his black pupils.

Song Ling's heart skipped a beat.