I traveled through the Cretaceous period and farmed with the ever-changing dog egg.

That irresponsible guy lost out on the mental cultivation method and then just wandered off aimlessly with the basic finger techniques.

They don't teach anything properly, and they come to check on you regularly. If you play something wrong, you get beaten up.

Lin Chaoyan protested, saying he hadn't taught her properly at all, but Nanshan said something that left Lin Chaoyan speechless: "The master leads you through the door, but the cultivation is up to you..."

Lin Chaoyan was furious that her fingers were being clipped by the piano strings every day and that she had to endure eight beatings.

His face turned as green as a vegetable...

Just because I'm a scoundrel doesn't mean I enjoy getting beaten up.

…………

To avoid being beaten, Lin Chaoyan worked tirelessly, even resorting to extreme measures like hanging her head from the rafters and pricking her thigh with an awl. She practiced day and night in her spatial dimension, without eating or drinking. Spring turned to autumn, and she lost a finger and was accidentally injured by her own sonic blade.

"Hiss... Ahhh... It hurts so much..." Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably as her fingers ached terribly.

In her fiftieth year, she was finally able to play a complete piece. Lin Chaoyan slowly raised her delicate, white fingers and plucked the strings that had tormented her a thousand times. Instantly, a beautiful and melodious sound filled the air.

As magic power flowed in, the rhythm became rapid, like thunder shattering the heavens. It was as if one were on a battlefield, with the air thick with the sounds of blood and carnage, and the deafening roar of battle echoing in one's ears. Every note transformed into a sharp blade, attacking in all directions.

Five hundred years later, Lin Chaoyan became one with her instrument.

A few clear sounds echoed from the mountains and forests. When her slender fingers touched the guqin, a chilling aura surged forth. Her fingers plucked the strings, and though the music was soft, the world seemed to change, with dark clouds swirling beneath the surface. Though she was small in the world, she sat there, her guqin was there, her music was there, and her world was there. The moment the music began, the sound surged and the surroundings seemed to plunge into an infernal hell.

The first volume teaches how to kill; the second weaves dreams, disturbing the mind and killing silently—perfect for Lin Chaoyan to feign weakness while outwardly unaware. The third volume focuses on healing—the mind, body, consciousness, and soul…

Five hundred years have passed inside, while only three days have passed outside. After being missing for three days, Nanshan assumed that Lin Chaoyan had given up and gone to hide away to be lazy.

Lin Chaoyan used her long, slender, and fair fingers to nimbly pluck the strings.

The music rose and fell, fast and slow, sometimes high, sometimes low, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Though extremely low and delicate, each note was still clearly audible. Gradually, pearls occasionally leaped from the low notes, crisp and short, rising and falling, the sounds increasing in complexity. First, it was like a gushing spring, then like a riot of flowers in full bloom, a cluster of blossoms, interspersed with birdsong, one chirping and the other responding. Gradually, the birds departed, spring faded and the flowers fell.

In the distance, a hundred flowers bloomed in profusion. The playful animals, who had been frolicking, all stopped what they were doing and gathered around Lin Chaoyan, sitting down to listen intently to the beautiful melody. A look of pure bliss crossed their faces. This created a brief moment of perfect harmony in the food chain: wolves and rabbits huddled together, birds perched on snake heads…

To avoid getting beaten up, this scoundrel became the King of Scrolls in his own space for five hundred years.

"Haha... I've mastered my divine skills..." Lin Chaoyan, who had gone crazy, grabbed her zither and left the space.

"Huh? You disappeared for three days, and now you've finally decided to show up?" She won't reflect on her actions; she'll soon vanish into nothingness. If not her, who will?

"What do you mean 'disappeared'? I went into seclusion to cultivate!"

I can slack off, but I will never be a deserter; desertion in the face of battle is shameful.

…“Three days of seclusion… I didn’t realize you were such a genius…” Nanshan just watched quietly as he observed Nanshan’s performance.

"I'm not a genius, but I have plenty of time to play!" Lin Chaoyan raised her hand proudly, and the next second, the sound of a zither floated up, so melodious and clear, like a mountain spring playing among the green hills.

Such carefree elegance; like the graceful breeze rustling through willow branches; so gentle and beautiful; like a colorful butterfly fluttering among a hundred flowers; so pure and noble; like a single red plum blossom amidst swirling snowflakes...

Sometimes the zither's sound soars like clouds, and the se's sound is as low as a whisper; sometimes the zither's sound is as ethereal as silk threads in the wind; sometimes the se's sound is as steady as pine trees rustling on a cliff; sometimes the se's sound is stirring, and sometimes the zither's sound is ethereal...

The zither and the se sometimes play together and sometimes separate. When they play together, the music flows smoothly like a river flowing into the sea. When they play apart, the music is as lively as a stream parting the stones.

The mournful melody of "The Butterfly Lovers" is like a cool breeze penetrating the ears and permeating the very core of one's being; it's like a gentle drizzle caressing the skin. Human relationships, worldly entanglements, and the disturbances of the mundane world recede like the tide, leaving only the vast expanse between heaven and earth, where only the poignant and sorrowful sound flows continuously, submerging the grass, soaking the lake, and moistening the rocks. All things are imbued with sorrow and melancholy in the music, including people.

As the song "Butterfly Lovers" ended, "The Smiling, Proud Wanderer" began to play again. Lin Chaoyan did this not for any other reason than to briefly pretend to be a little genius.

The sound of the zither continued to flow, quite elegant. After a moment, a few soft notes of the xiao (vertical bamboo flute) joined the zither's melody. The seven-stringed zither's tone was peaceful and balanced, and the xiao's clear and melodious sound was even more moving. The zither and xiao seemed to be asking and answering each other, gradually drawing closer.

With the addition of Nie Lianzhou's Qingyue Xiao, the sound of the zither gradually rose higher, while the sound of the xiao slowly lowered. However, the sound of the xiao was low but continuous, like a gossamer thread drifting in the wind, yet it was continuous and unbroken, which added to the poignant feeling.

As their magical powers were infused, one played the flute and the other the zither, their duet evoking the spirit of Bo Ya and Zi Qi. The mountain itself underwent a wondrous transformation: hundreds of birds flocked to the phoenix, flowers bloomed in abundance, and animals nearby paused to listen.

"Your Majesty...My Lord, this is simply heavenly music..."

A group of people set off on foot towards their destination halfway up the mountain, with one of them carrying a five- or six-year-old boy.

When the song ended, everyone fell silent. Nanshan felt a little pain in his face, but at the same time, he felt more gratified.

"Your talent is being wasted here, what a pity! If it were me in the past, I would definitely have nurtured you into the number one cultivator in the cultivation world..." Three days is equivalent to the achievements of others over hundreds of years, and I had never heard of such a person before I died.

Hearing this, Lin Chaoyan felt a little guilty and realized that she had overdone it.

Next, she played a piece called "Water Dragon Chant" with all her heart. This time, she played it purely for the sake of playing the zither, without any other distracting thoughts.

Lin Chaoyan's guqin music began like a deep pool, while the xiao music emerged like a dragon's soft roar, as if a water dragon were soaring into the sky and roaring to the heavens.

Like a flower, yet not quite a flower, it falls unnoticed, left to fall without anyone to cherish it. Abandoned by the roadside, it seems both heartless and thoughtful. It torments the tender heart, its sleepy eyes half-open, half-closed. Its dreams drift with the wind for miles, searching for its beloved, only to be awakened by the warbling of orioles. It doesn't lament the flowers' fading, but hates the western garden where fallen petals are hard to gather. After the morning rain, where are the traces? Only shattered duckweed on the pond. Spring's beauty is divided into three parts: two parts dust, one part flowing water. Looking closely, it's not willow catkins, but each speck is a tear of parting. (Su Shi, *Water Dragon Chant*, following the rhyme of Zhang Zhifu's *Willow Catkins* poem)

This is the second volume, a way of calming the soul, a sentimental act. But wasn't he himself doing the same thing? Nanshan looked at Lin Chaoyan one last time with a sense of relief before turning into starlight and returning to the world.

The music of the zither softened, the two notes rising and falling, and suddenly the zither and flute music changed abruptly, as if seven or eight zithers and seven or eight flutes were playing music at the same time. Although the sounds of the zither and flute were extremely complex and varied, each sound had its own ups and downs, pleasing to the ear and touching the heart.

The crowd's blood boiled, and they couldn't resist rushing forward. But after listening for a while, the music changed again. The flute's melody shifted, becoming the dominant note, while the seven-stringed zither merely provided a gentle accompaniment. The flute's melody grew ever higher. Ying Zheng felt a strange pang of sorrow in his heart. Turning to look at Lin Chaoyan, he saw the undeniable chemistry between her and the man, which only intensified his pain. Suddenly, a sharp, clear sound rang out, and the zither and flute music ceased abruptly.

A moment of silence fell over the surroundings, and then a boy ran up to Lin Chaoyan. His large eyes were as bright and lively as those of a fawn in the forest.

"Mother..."

She was his mother, even more beautiful than in the portrait. Little Fusu wanted to hug her but tried his best to maintain his composure, afraid of displeasing Lin Chaoyan.

"Whose child are you? I'm not your mother. You've mistaken me for someone else..." Upon suddenly becoming a mother, Lin Chaoyan coldly declared, "Child, you've mistaken me for someone else."

"Mother, you are my mother, Father wouldn't lie to me! You are even more beautiful than in Father's portrait..." Little Fusu grabbed Lin Chaoyan's sleeve anxiously, his gaze shifting between his father and mother. His eyes were brimming with tears, looking utterly pitiful.

“Ayan…” Where is our child?

Damn it! It's him again. He wants his own son to be the one left holding the bag? Shameless...

"Take your son and leave now! Don't you have any conscience lying to such a young child?" After saying that, she picked up the zither and was about to leave.

"Ayan, this is our son..." If you don't want to acknowledge him today, then so be it. The father and son, one pitifully holding up his sleeves, and the other gently stroking her shoulders with both hands.

"Can't you have any shame?" Has your face disappeared because you've grown a beard? Don't I know whether I've had children or not?

"Sister... Sister... We're back..." The three little ones' clear, bell-like voices rang out from behind.

The three children, seeing the uncle suddenly appear, stood directly in the middle, confronting the father and sons.