Chapter Eleven: The Celestial Star Movement Diagram

A thought arose in Wang Ling’s heart, but he was unwilling to risk himself to warn that Zhen Yunzi. If Wang Ling’s guess was correct, Zhen Yunzi was doomed this time. Even if Wang Ling went to deliver a warning, it wouldn’t save him—he would only end up dragging himself into the mess. Since that was the case, it couldn’t be said Wang Ling was heartless for not saving him to the end. Even before his rebirth, Wang Ling had understood the principle that helping others must be done within one’s means. Only those so-called keyboard warriors would clamor for someone to give away their entire fortune, or else be accused of lacking humanity... All the while, they themselves were enjoying the ease of criticizing from behind a screen, yet would never part with a single coin.

If Wang Ling could help without endangering himself, he would naturally do so. But in circumstances such as these, to step into this quagmire would be to trap himself. Seizing a brief window, Wang Ling dared not linger. He quickly oriented himself and hurried toward his home.

He had walked no more than five or six miles when suddenly a shout rang out: “Stop!” Wang Ling paused, surprised, but immediately complied, his face breaking into a gentle smile. By now, he had already tidied himself up; the face-covering scarf had been discarded in a stream somewhere. A squad of ghostly soldiers, carrying torches of eerie green flame, emerged from the darkness. Spotting Wang Ling’s scholarly robes, their expressions softened.

In this era, a scholar capable of reading was rarely from a common family. As previously calculated, supporting a full-time scholar was no easy feat. Even a well-off family with hundreds of acres would struggle to sustain such a scholar. All the more so since, in these times, knowledge was monopolized by powerful clans.

Therefore, even these ghostly soldiers, on seeing Wang Ling’s scholar’s robe, though not fearful, regarded him with certain respect.

“Sir, why are you walking alone through the wilds at night?”

Before acting earlier, Wang Ling had already removed his cumbersome wide-sleeved scholar’s robe and used it as a bundle slung over his shoulder. Now, he had just put it back on.

Unhurried and composed, he replied, “I do not dare claim the title of ‘sir’. I am a member of the Wang family of Danling. I have built a humble cottage on Little Plum Mountain and am now returning there.”

Wang Ling’s answer was not a fabrication, for his home on Little Plum Mountain was only a few miles away.

The Wang clan’s ancestral lands weren’t far either, neatly situated between here and there. Wang Ling had prepared for this journey, carefully planning his route.

“So it is Master Wang from Little Plum Mountain…”

At these words, the ghostly soldiers’ faces changed. They hastily offered respectful salutes.

Wang Ling felt faintly puzzled. When had his reputation grown so great that even ghostly soldiers had heard of him and showed such deference?

The next moment, the soldiers explained his confusion: “We are ghost soldiers of the Guangyang Society. Our Society Lord often speaks of you, Master Wang—how you invented underfloor heating, benefiting countless people. In the harshness of winter, many have been spared from freezing, a merit of boundless virtue. One day, when you enter the underworld, you shall surely ascend to godhood!”

At this, Wang Ling was truly startled.

Years ago, his father had left home in search of the Way and never returned. Not long after, his mother fell ill and passed away. Wang Ling, following ancestral custom, observed three years of mourning for his mother. According to the rites, he was to live near the family tomb, build a thatched hut, and rest his head on a dirt pillow—living in austerity, as the tradition prescribed.

Wang Ling, however, saw this as a rare opportunity. Like other great clans, the Wang family lived all together, always under watchful eyes, making cultivation impossible. But during those three years of mourning, with no one around, he could finally cultivate in peace.

When the three years were over, Wang Ling was reluctant to return. Instead, he planted dozens of plum trees on a hill not far from the ancestral tomb, played the part of a reclusive scholar, and continued living in his thatched hut.

Such a life sounded refined, but living alone on a mountain in a grass hut was hardly pleasant. Winter, in particular, was so cold it could almost kill a man.

So, drawing on memories from his previous life, Wang Ling devised a system of underfloor heating. Later, his cousin Wang Yue learned of it and spread the method throughout the Wang clan. Because the weather was so cold and the system easy to build and use, it quickly gained popularity.

Wang Ling had never expected that this unintentional act would have such consequences!

Still astonished, Wang Ling took his leave from the ghost soldiers and returned home.

A faint sigh rose in his heart. He hoped this recent incident would not implicate him, for his actions this time were far from flawless…

A few days later, Wang Ling inquired and learned that the traveler from another world had not escaped that night but had been killed on the spot. It was said this outsider was unusually formidable, managing to kill dozens of ghost soldiers and destroy two or three war chariots. In the end, however, he was overwhelmed and slain by the government’s forces.

Perhaps because the outsider perished on the spot, his soul entirely destroyed, the authorities soon abandoned their investigation. Wang Ling remained unexposed. While feeling secretly fortunate, he was also deeply unsettled.

This time, it was merely good luck. Had the authorities probed deeper, sooner or later he would have been discovered.

For several days, Wang Ling slept uneasily, never resting his head in peace. Every night, he kept weapons close at hand and all his valuables strapped to his person, ready to flee at the slightest disturbance.

Now, at last, he could relax a little, whatever might come.

He owed much to his status as a member of the Wang family of Danling, and to his invention of underfloor heating, which had earned him some reputation even in the Underworld. These served as cover for him—otherwise…

At this thought, Wang Ling suddenly remembered the item Zhen Yunzi had given him.

He took it out and was immediately struck with surprise. “What is this? A map…?”

It was a piece of soft silk, upon which a diagram of the celestial bodies’ movement was embroidered in gold thread—intricate and complex.

At a glance, Wang Ling felt as if a myriad stars were revolving along their tracks, mysterious and profound.

Yet the longer he looked, the more dizzy and lightheaded he became, the world spinning so much that he nearly fainted.

He quickly averted his gaze, his face a mixture of fear and delight.

“This is a most advanced method of preserving the spirit through visualization… A technique no less profound than my Primordial Dragon-Tiger Golden Pill Thunder Law…”

It must have been Zhen Yunzi’s final gift in gratitude.

Thinking of this, Wang Ling had to admit the man was not without character. At first, seeing him slaughter innocents with ruthless efficiency, Wang Ling had felt apprehension. But now, all was over. So much time had passed—Zhen Yunzi must surely be dead.