Heaven-Collapsing Start [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The rising sun ascends.

Golden sunlight climbs over mountains and ridges, rising from the highest peak in the east to grace all things, spilling into the woods, across the fields, and upon the eaves of houses.

This is a peaceful little village. The villagers rise early before the sun has even come up to busy themselves in the fields.

As the hour of Chen (7:00 AM – 9:00 AM) begins, young boys gradually emerge from their respective homes ranging from a few years old to their teens all walking in the same direction by unspoken consensus.

“My mom just exhorted me again to listen to the teacher. Sigh, do I look like a student who doesn’t listen?”

“Don’t even get me started on your mom; mine nags every single day. I’m annoyed to death.”

“You guys have it easy. My parents double-team me; neither of my ears gets a moment’s rest.”

“Seems I’m not the only one so miserable, haha.”

Along the way, the youths walking together couldn’t help but vent to one another, but the expressions on their faces were expectant and excited, as if they could hardly wait.

Indeed, in this poor and remote place, the sudden arrival of a teacher with extraordinary knowledge who opened a school was like a massive piece of “pie falling from the sky” for the local people.

Even some adults, when passing the schoolhouse, couldn’t resist pausing outside the window to listen to the clear, rhythmic sound of reading, finding it refreshing to the mind and soul.

At this moment, inside the school, reflected in the eyes of over a dozen focused students was a tall, thin figure clad in green robes. His slightly pale complexion made it seem as though a gust of wind might knock him over.

This teacher had arrived in Pangxi Village half a month ago. At the time, he wore this same sickly countenance, perhaps even worse.

He stayed in Pangxi Village, claiming to be a scholar who had failed the imperial exams. He didn’t explain why he left home, but seeing his “weak as a reed” appearance, even the villagers who were usually not very welcoming to outsiders couldn’t find it in their hearts to turn him away.

Later, he spoke to the Village Chief about teaching and imparting knowledge, provided they didn’t mind his status as a failed scholar. How could they possibly mind? Their joy was beyond words.

Thus, with all the village’s labor gathered, a brand-new schoolhouse was quickly built.

And this “Teacher” in the mouths of the villagers was none other than Ji Liang, living as a man who had “already died.”

He had no desire or interest in dealing with the original owner’s mess. If people found out he had returned from the dead, he feared they would wish to kill him all over again.

The Ji Family Villa had been loyal and upright for generations, famously known as righteous figures in the Jianghu; no one expected they would produce such a heartless, heaven-forsaken scoundrel.

The Leader of the Martial Arts Alliance had been struck in a vital spot by the original owner during that battle and seemingly couldn’t pull through. The next Alliance Leader, pushed forward by popular acclaim, was Gu Yun.

Therefore, the Jianghu should currently be in a period of chaos. Ji Liang could temporarily settle down in this small place with peace of mind. If no one disturbed him again, it would be for the best.

But Ji Liang knew that was impossible.

…

“That is all for today.”

In the schoolhouse, Ji Liang set down his brush and spoke to the students below.

A hush fell over the wooden house. Whether they were older youths or children as young as seven or eight, they all rose respectfully and bowed to the teacher. Then, they organized their paper and brushes in an orderly fashion, waiting for the teacher to leave before they walked out of the school.

Not long after Ji Liang left the school, a half-grown youth hurriedly chased after him. He was tall and sturdy with dark skin, but his expression was rather bashful.

“Teacher, please wait.”

Ji Liang stopped and turned to look at him.

The youth scratched the back of his head and brought the hand hidden behind his back forward, dangling a piece of fresh leg meat threaded through with straw rope.

“This was caught today. My father told me to bring it so the teacher could have a good meal.”

The youth was the Village Chief’s son, and also the one arranged by the Village Chief to handle Ji Liang’s chores. The intention behind this was easy to understand: it was nothing more than the hope that by being in close contact with the teacher, the boy might learn a few more things.

Ji Liang did not refuse.

He gave a slight nod to the youth, who was wearing a simple, honest smile, and walked toward his residence. During this, the youth spontaneously helped carry his teaching books, and Ji Liang did not refuse that either.

In a simple but tidy house, the youth headed for the kitchen while Ji Liang returned to his room, emerging only after a while.

In his hand was a bundle of dried herbs, which he handed to the youth busy in the kitchen.

“I’ll trouble you with this.”

“No trouble, no trouble at all.”

The youth waved his hands hurriedly, familiarly placing the herbs into a clay pot, adding water to boil them.

The village had no physicians or pharmacies. Usually, the villagers’ injuries were treated with self-made herbal remedies passed down through generations; sometimes, they would take surplus or precious herbs dug up from the mountains to sell at the town pharmacy.

The youth knew the teacher’s health was poor, so drinking medicine was only natural. However, he had never seen where these herbs came from until he accidentally saw the teacher in the courtyard using a tree branch as a sword, his silhouette moving through a slow dance of martial arts.

As it turned out, the teacher actually knew martial arts.

The youth told his father about this. The Village Chief stroked the short beard on his chin, then looked at the youth’s bright eyes, which were filled with anticipation and idolization. How could he not understand his son’s little thoughts?

Ultimately, the Village Chief sighed softly.

“If that teacher is willing to teach you…”

Saying those words was a tacit acknowledgement of Ji Liang’s status in Pangxi Village. Furthermore, the selfless act of imparting knowledge was enough for people to set aside their wariness and respect this teacher from the bottom of their hearts.

From then on, the frequency of the youth’s visits to Ji Liang’s residence increased, and he became even more meticulous, hoping to leave a good impression of hard work in the teacher’s eyes.

Ji Liang, naturally, saw all of this and understood the youth’s mind. However, sometimes possessing an extraordinary ability meant an extra share of responsibility; it might bring about disaster, and the simple days of the past might never return.

In the past, Ji Liang did not believe in ethereal fate, but now, he had no choice but to believe, finding himself stuck in this quagmire, unable to extricate himself.

“Teacher, the medicine is ready.”

After the two finished their meal, the youth cleared the table and returned to the kitchen to watch the medicine pot. When the herbs were finished brewing and he brought them out in a porcelain bowl, he saw the teacher practicing martial arts in the courtyard.

A slender twig, in hands as white as jade, seemed to possess incredible power.

The youth watched dazed, not even realizing when Ji Liang had stopped. Not until the teacher came before him, picked up the warm medicinal juice, tilted his head slightly, and drank it all in one go did the youth finally snap back to his senses as the porcelain bowl clinked against the stone table.

Ji Liang looked at him. There was no denying this youth had talent. To teach or not to teach that was a difficult question.

The youth’s cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, though his dark skin made it hard to see clearly. The teacher kept looking at him, seemingly lost in thought, which made the youth feel even more uneasy. Just as he was about to speak, a voice as calm as water suddenly reached his ears.

The teacher asked him: “Are you… willing to practice martial arts?”

…

The youth’s nickname was A-Heng, and Ji Liang called him that as well. However, when the youth wanted to formally take him as a Master (Shifu) to learn martial arts, Ji Liang stopped him.

“I am only giving you some pointers; I don’t count as your true Master. Call me Teacher (Laoshi).”

“But in A-Heng’s heart, the Teacher is the Master I will respect most in my life.”

Even so, the youth did not dare to disobey Ji Liang’s words and simply called him “Teacher.”

The “pointers” Ji Liang spoke of were truly just pointers. Perhaps because this body had died once, the dantian was completely empty and could not gather internal energy (Neili). He was currently relying solely on forms and techniques.

If one were to say the original owner could be ranked as a first-class expert in the Jianghu—and even had few rivals after practicing the secret manual from Qian Jizi now, having lost his internal energy and being as good as a “useless person,” he was merely a bit stronger than the average person.

Talent is truly a thing of love and hate. Those without it might spend their entire lives without making progress in the Martial Dao, yet this talent manifested in the youth; even though he had missed the optimal age for starting, he still showed an astonishing performance.

“This is a basic internal energy cultivation method. Take it, and do not be lazy.”

A piece of paper drifted lightly into the youth’s hand, still carrying the lingering scent of fresh ink. It was a technique Ji Liang had just transcribed from memory, one that was relatively suitable for the youth.

To be honest, he had experienced many worlds. Whether he wanted to or not, he had acquired the memories of many original owners; the accumulated knowledge and martial arts techniques were already beyond counting.

Although this current body was broken and could not gather internal energy, guiding a commoner in cultivation was an easy task.

“Many thanks, Teacher!”

The youth’s eyes were bright, looking very much like the “him” of the past, before everything had happened.

Pity. A pity.