Chapter Twelve: The Formation of Learning

Liang Yan selected a room in the right corner of the courtyard. Inside, dust had accumulated thickly. He gave it a quick cleaning, set down his luggage, and was just about to sit and cultivate when he happened to glimpse two figures approaching from a distance along the path—one fat, one thin, both clad in identical gray robes.

Liang Yan quietly focused his energy to probe them, discovering that both possessed only the first stage of Qi Refining, and their spiritual power was scant, barely stronger than ordinary martial artists.

The two entered the courtyard and, seeing an unfamiliar face, seemed somewhat surprised. Liang Yan stepped out, greeting them first, “I am Liang Yan, newly admitted as a menial disciple. I hope you two senior brothers will look after me in the days to come.”

The fat senior brother smiled kindly, “So you’re the new junior brother! No need for formalities. My name is Li Dali, and he’s Sun Qianli. Just call us Brother Li and Brother Sun, everyone does.”

Before Liang Yan could reply, Sun Qianli interjected, “You two can chat, I’m heading back.” With that, he strode off to his room, shutting the door with a loud thud.

Li Dali laughed awkwardly, “Don’t mind him, Brother Liang. Sun’s constitution isn’t great, and menial disciples have heavy chores. He always looks exhausted—comes back, just sleeps.”

Liang Yan smiled faintly, showing he took no offense. After exchanging a few more words with Li Dali, they each returned to their rooms.

After a night of cultivation, Liang Yan was up and dressed before dawn. Following the map given by Uncle Zhou, he reported to the Ceremony Pavilion and Law Pavilion, collected the sect’s regulations and a set of gray menial disciple robes.

Rushing back to the pavilion in the center of the apricot grove, he found Li Dali and Sun Qianli already present, with only Wang Yuan yet to arrive. Liang Yan stepped forward to stand alongside them. Li Dali gave him a friendly smile, while Sun Qianli remained indifferent.

They waited a stick of incense’s time before Wang Yuan finally appeared, yawning as he ambled down the path. Li Dali and Sun Qianli seemed used to his tardiness; not a hint of surprise showed on their faces.

Wang Yuan glanced lazily at Liang Yan, “You—southern Spiritwood area, fifty bundles of spirit logs. Fetch water from the Spring of Brocade Peak, ten barrels. Deliver everything to the supply depot and register under my name. When you’re done, come clean the Library Pavilion.”

He then turned to Li Dali and Sun Qianli, “As for you two, same as usual—head to your spots if you know your tasks.”

The three collected their tools at the depot and split up for their assignments.

Following the map, Liang Yan entered the Spiritwood area. Soon he saw a verdant forest, trees lush and towering, each at least five fathoms high.

He chose a relatively short spirit tree and swung his axe. With a “crack,” the blade sank only seven inches.

Liang Yan couldn’t help but marvel inwardly, “My cultivation emphasizes physical strength, yet even I find this spiritwood tough to chop. With their meager abilities, those two must spend the whole day just to finish. The life of a menial disciple truly is hard.”

With this thought, Liang Yan quietly activated the nameless technique imparted by the old monk. Focusing all his strength, he brought the axe down again—this time, the blade plunged deep, nearly halfway through the trunk. Satisfied, Liang Yan continued.

By the time he finished chopping fifty bundles of spiritwood, it was nearly noon. Without delay, he hurried to the Spring of Brocade Peak to fetch water. Once all tasks were complete, aching all over, he returned to the Library Pavilion.

Wang Yuan seemed surprised at how quickly Liang Yan had finished. He gave Liang Yan a meaningful look, his attitude subtly changed, and merely instructed him to thoroughly clean the first floor of the pavilion, saying nothing further.

Liang Yan nodded and set to work. Within an hour, the first floor was spotless—Li Dali and Sun Qianli had yet to return, clearly unable to match Liang Yan’s speed.

“All tasks finished—I must seize the chance to study array techniques in the Library Pavilion,” Liang Yan thought.

His diligence in chores was to free up time to read the books on arrays, for he had a six-year pact, and if he made no progress in array magic, all would be for naught.

Entering the Library Pavilion, Liang Yan found it far more spacious than it appeared from outside, with numerous tomes organized on rattan shelves.

During his earlier cleaning, he had already picked out his target. Now he walked to the leftmost shelves and retrieved a book with a tawny cover, titled “Introduction to Array Techniques.” Sitting on the floor, he began to read with relish.

Time flew, and before he knew it, dusk had fallen. Liang Yan took a deep breath, finally lifting his gaze from the pages.

“So the path of arrays is indeed vast and profound.”

He murmured, “Array magic, at its core, is the application of a cultivator’s understanding of the Dao to the manipulation of spiritual energy. Besides a few ancient absolute arrays, most arrays created by later masters fall into five categories: killing, illusion, trapping, restriction, and sealing.”

“But all things possess spirit, and countless generations of cultivators have sought immortality, with many prodigies refining or inventing arrays. The field has become deeply entwined, giving rise to innumerable variant arrays whose effects are subtle and far exceed the five basic types.”

“Still, no matter how arrays evolve, they always rely on four essentials: the array core, array implements, array patterns, and array source. The core is the heart of the array, akin to a human’s dantian, usually a magical or spiritual artifact. Once the core is broken, the array collapses. Implements are specialized tools for arranging arrays, comparable to acupuncture points, such as array disks, flags, and pearls, varying by array. Patterns are the Dao marks inscribed by the array setter, much like meridians. The source is typically supplied by spirit stones or other objects rich in spiritual energy, analogous to a person’s internal spiritual power—without energy, the core, points, and meridians are meaningless.”

“Introduction to Array Techniques” was thorough and detailed, clearly outlining the foundations of array magic, thus ushering Liang Yan into the world of arrays.

Liang Yan possessed an extraordinary memory, able to read ten lines at a glance. In one afternoon, he committed all the book’s essentials to memory and finally stepped outside.

Three figures stood outside: Sun Qianli, Li Dali, and Wang Yuan.

Sun and Li had just returned to report. They were surprised that Liang Yan, a newcomer, had completed his tasks before them.

What astonished them even more was that Liang Yan spent his free time in the Library Pavilion studying array magic.

In the current age, cultivators prioritize their own advancement. Studying alchemy is understandable, as certain pills possess extraordinary properties that greatly aid cultivation and help break through bottlenecks, which explains the widespread obsession with alchemy.

But array magic is esoteric and rarely useful except in special circumstances; in direct combat, its benefits are negligible, so few devote themselves to its study.

Even Sun Qianli and Li Dali, though members of the array branch, rarely practiced array magic, spending their time in meditation, striving to break through to the second stage of Qi Refining. Their choice of the array branch was not even their own.

Liang Yan was unaware of their doubts, thinking only that they were curious about his efficiency. After reporting to Wang Yuan, he took his leave.

Returning to his quarters, Liang Yan spent the night in meditation and training. Early the next day, he finished his tasks and plunged once more into the Library Pavilion.

The array branch’s library held only books on array magic, no cultivation manuals. Even the outer disciples of the array branch seldom visited—perhaps once every ten days or half a month—making it a peaceful haven where Liang Yan could study undisturbed.

Thus, Liang Yan spent his mornings chopping wood and training, his afternoons immersed in array studies, and his nights cultivating. Three months passed in the blink of an eye.

One afternoon, in the Library Pavilion, Liang Yan sat absorbed in a black-covered book, shaking his head and reading with gusto. The cover, edged in gold, bore the title, “Wind Master’s Eight-Array Diagram Explained.”

Reading on, Liang Yan’s brow suddenly furrowed. Flipping to the last page, he infused his finger with spiritual energy and, after a moment’s hesitation, began to write:

“Eight array transformations: Heaven Cover is the vanguard of warfare, the array’s master. If wielded too hastily, defeat comes from within; it must be hidden as the coiled dragon, used only for decisive battles.”

He wrote again, “Earth Carrier, square and upright, serves as the vanguard, unstoppable in assault, its application limitless. Yet, like a trapped beast, it cannot fight long; it should be supplemented by Cloud Droop. Earth Carrier forms the base, Cloud governs the corners; strike the corners and it shatters.”

He continued, “Wind Flow is formless, paired with Heaven; Cloud Droop with Earth. Initially shapeless, Wind transforms to snake, Cloud to bird; charge the Ox and shoot the Wolf. These four are the living arrays. As for Dragon Flight, Tiger Wing, Bird Soar, Snake Coil…”

At first Liang Yan was hesitant, but as he wrote, he grew ever more engrossed, his writing lively and bold, describing how the eight array transformations could combine in pairs, giving rise to endless variations.

Had an array master been present, their jaw would surely have dropped.

Though “Wind Master’s Eight Arrays” was not a profound technique, it wasn’t simple either. Within it were eight transformations: Heaven Cover, Earth Carrier, Wind Flow, Cloud Droop, Dragon Flight, Tiger Wing, Bird Soar, Snake Coil.

Ordinary practitioners would spend months on each transformation without much progress, yet Liang Yan had taken only three months to overturn the book’s teachings and devise improvements—a true prodigy in the array arts.

Of course, Liang Yan himself was unaware of this. Driven by his six-year pact with the pavilion master, he had, from the first day, thrown himself into array studies, forsaking sleep and leisure—if not working or cultivating, he was reading and analyzing, nearly obsessed.

He filled the last page with his improvements to the Eight-Array Diagram. Suddenly, he felt a little ridiculous—he was but a student of arrays, yet here in the library, he’d used pen in place of voice to make such bold assertions.

Blushing at the thought, he added one final line at the end: “The Mad Scholar’s Folly.”

Closing the book, he glanced out the window. The sun was setting. He tidied up the Library Pavilion and departed for his quarters.