Record of Mortals Slaying Heaven

Pushing open the wooden door to the courtyard, a musty smell, as if no one had lived there for a long time, hit you.

Shen Moqi stood at the doorway, surveying her future residence in the afterglow of the setting sun. The courtyard was about five zhang square, paved with blue bricks, with a few stubborn clumps of weeds peeking out from the cracks. Directly opposite were three low houses: the central room was the main hall, with bedrooms and a small woodshed on either side. A dusty lantern hung under the eaves, swaying gently in the breeze.

In the corner of the courtyard stood a well, its rim polished smooth by the bluestone, next to which sat a worn wooden bucket. Beside the well grew a clump of unidentified green plants, their thick leaves gleaming with a faint green light in the twilight.

Shen Moqi stood in the courtyard for a while, taking a deep breath. The air was filled with the fresh scent of bamboo leaves, mixed with the aroma of earth, which was even more vibrant than the ink fragrance in the Sutra Repository.

"This is my territory from now on," he muttered to himself, pushing open the door to the main room.

The main room was simply furnished with a square table, two chairs, and an oil lamp on the table. In the east bedroom was a wooden bed covered with a thin, neatly folded quilt. The west room was empty, filled with miscellaneous items.

Shen Moqi put down her backpack, rolled up her sleeves, and began cleaning.

He started with the bedroom, carrying the bedding to the yard to air it out, then sweeping away the dust from every nook and cranny. He then went to the well to fetch water and wiped the tables, chairs, and bed boards twice with a rag. After working for more than half an hour, the house finally looked habitable.

The sun had completely sunk behind the mountains, and darkness had fallen. Shen Moqi lit an oil lamp and sat down on the edge of the bed to rest, but her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow.

Memorizing the locations of tens of thousands of books within a month—this might be an impossible task for others, but with Xiao Jiu, it shouldn't be difficult. If he could number each row of bookshelves and take photos of each shelf and each compartment, then have Xiao Jiu help him organize them, he could simply tell Xiao Jiu the book's title and she would know where each book was. That was his plan.

Thinking of this, a slight smile appeared on his lips. Modern technology combined with cultivation—wouldn't that be considered a game-changer?

---

After resting for a while, Shen Moqi opened the cloth bag that Deacon Zhao had brought and took out the contents one by one:

The jade token, about the size of a palm, had the words "Luo Xiao Sect" engraved on the front and his name "Shen Moqi" on the back. The token felt warm and smooth to the touch, with a subtle, flowing luster.

The two sets of neatly folded blue robes were made of a much better material than his own coarse cloth gown, and felt soft and smooth to the touch.

A thin booklet with the words "Luo Xiao Sect Rules Manual" written on the cover.

There was also a small cloth bag. When I opened it, I found five spirit stones the size of a thumb and three pills the size of a longan.

Shen Moqi first picked up the sect rules manual and looked through it page by page under the oil lamp. The manual was not thick, only about twenty pages, but it contained a lot of information—the sect's history, structure, disciple ranks, reward and punishment system, taboos, etc., all written clearly.

He read very slowly, silently reciting each rule several times. The sect rules clearly stated: those who betray the sect will have their cultivation abolished and be expelled; those who harm fellow disciples will have their cultivation abolished and be imprisoned; those who privately pass on cultivation techniques will be punished according to the severity of the offense... There were also rules for the Scripture Pavilion: no one may enter the floors above the second floor without permission; violators will be whipped for minor offenses and have their cultivation abolished for serious offenses.

Shen Moqi felt a chill run down her spine, thinking that these rules were really strict. But she also understood that without rules, there would be no order. A sect with thousands of people would have been in chaos long ago without some ironclad rules.

He read the manual over and over again three times until he felt he had completely memorized it before putting it down.

Next were the spirit stones. He picked one up and examined it under the light. The spirit stone was an irregularly shaped, semi-transparent block with a faint mist swirling inside. It felt slightly warm in his hand, exactly the same as the one the Imperial Preceptor had given him.

He carefully put the spirit stone back into his cloth bag and placed it close to his body.

Finally, there were the three pills—the Abstinence Pills. The name was easy to understand; they should be something that could stave off hunger. He smelled them; they had no odor. He squeezed them; they were hard as a rock.

"I wonder how many days one pill will last," he muttered, putting the pill away carefully.

---

After packing his things, he suddenly felt a stench on his body. He had been traveling and cleaning all day, and he was covered in sweat; his clothes even smelled sour. He looked at the well in the yard and decided to take a bath.

He fetched water, boiled it, and adjusted the temperature—after a long flurry of activity, he finally settled comfortably into the wooden tub. The moment the hot water seeped into his skin, he almost cried out in pleasure. All his fatigue seemed to melt away in the water, washed away little by little.

After washing up and changing into his new sect robes, he stood in front of the palm-sized bronze mirror in the room and looked at himself.

The person in the mirror wore a long blue robe, the belt neatly tied at the waist, and his hair, half-dry, cascaded over his shoulders. He straightened his back as he examined his reflection—he really did have a bit of... an air of otherworldly elegance?

He couldn't help but laugh, then quickly suppressed his laughter, feeling a bit silly.

Just then, my stomach let out an untimely gurgle.

Shen Moqi was taken aback, then realized that he hadn't eaten anything all day since last night. He had been so busy traveling and cleaning that he had forgotten about being hungry, and now that he had some free time, his stomach was starting to protest.

He took out the fasting pill, hesitated for a moment, and then swallowed it.

After swallowing the pill, a warm sensation rose from my stomach and quickly spread throughout my body. The burning hunger had actually disappeared.

Shen Moqi touched her belly, both surprised and delighted: "Made by an immortal, truly extraordinary!"

He did the math: three pills a month, and if one pill lasts ten days, that would be just enough. But he still had to ask someone tomorrow; if he guessed wrong and starved to death in the library, that would be a huge joke.

Thinking about this, he couldn't help but grumble inwardly: Didn't any of those senior disciples even bother to give any instructions? How to prepare the food, what to be careful about—not a single word. What if he's a careless person and breaks the rules tomorrow? What if he starves to death in this courtyard before they remember, "Oh, there's a new disciple"? How irresponsible!

He grumbled to himself, but life had to go on. He sat down on the edge of the bed, reached for his phone as usual, and pressed a button—the screen didn't light up.

After getting his phone back from the stone, he charged it a little, asked about the cultivation, but got no results and then ignored it; the phone's remaining battery had long since run out.

He took out the hand-cranked charger and started cranking it. Crunch...crunch...the only sound in the quiet night was the repetitive mechanical noise.

He shook it hundreds of times until the screen finally lit up. He continued shaking it until the battery icon reached 100% before stopping.

After turning on his phone, he habitually flipped through the photo album. Familiar pictures slid by one—his mother's busy figure in the kitchen, his father's furrowed brow as he played chess, his grandmother's smiling face as she basked in the sun in the yard…

My fingers hovered over the screen, and suddenly my eyes welled up with tears.

He stared at the people he would never see again, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.

"Mom... Dad..." he murmured, his voice choked with emotion, "Are you both alright?"

No one answered him. Only the flickering flame of the oil lamp cast a swaying shadow on the wall.

"I must go back." He gritted his teeth, wiping away his tears. "No matter how difficult it is, I must go back."

---

After crying, he felt a little better. He took a deep breath, sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, and began to practice the Luo Xiao Basic Breathing Method.

As soon as he entered meditation, he sensed the difference—the spiritual energy here was much richer than that in the Great Yan Kingdom!

Back in the Great Yan Kingdom, he had to exert a great deal of effort to sense those sparse specks of spiritual energy, like searching for water on parched land. But now, the surrounding spiritual energy was at least three times denser, and with just a little concentration, he could "see" many specks of light floating around him.

He was overjoyed and quickly guided the light spots into his body.

However, the real difficulties have only just begun.

Although there was abundant spiritual energy, he could only absorb a tiny fraction of it. It was like sitting in a river teeming with fish; others could scoop up a whole net in one go, but he could only grab them one by one by hand, catching only one or two at a time. Most of the points of light drifted by, passing by him, with only a very small portion being absorbed into his body.

He tried again and again, until his whole body ached and his spiritual energy in his dantian was still pitifully little.

"Too slow..." He opened his eyes, somewhat frustrated.

But he wasn't discouraged. At least he confirmed one thing: places with abundant spiritual energy were indeed helpful for cultivation. Although he was still slow, he was already a little faster than when he was in the Great Yan Kingdom.

"This must be the 'land' in the 'wealth, companions, methods, and land' that the Imperial Preceptor mentioned," Shen Moqi thought to herself. "Then 'wealth' should be spirit stones and resources, 'companions' should refer to fellow cultivators or companions, 'methods' should refer to cultivation techniques and spells, and 'land' refers to the place of cultivation—I have no clue about 'wealth' and 'companions' right now. Do six spirit stones count as 'wealth'? But I should have 'land' now. What about 'methods'?"

Thinking of cultivation techniques, Shen Moqi's mind started working again. Surely Senior Lin has better techniques? There are so many techniques and spells up on the second floor; any one of them would be better than this beginner-level stuff, right?

But he immediately shook his head. It was too early to think about these things now. He had just arrived and hadn't even done his job properly yet. Why should he ask others for good cultivation techniques? He should first do a good job in the Scripture Pavilion and win Senior Lin's trust before he would have a chance in the future.

He recalled the bookshelf numbers and his idea of ​​taking photos, and felt a little more at ease. With Xiao Jiu's help, remembering the book locations shouldn't be difficult. When Senior Lin came to inspect, he could handle things smoothly and perhaps leave a good impression.

As I thought about it, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. It was such a tiring day; from the airship to cleaning to taking photos, my thoughts were constantly racing.

He yawned and lay down on the bed fully clothed.

The moonlight outside the window was like water, spilling into the bamboo forest, into the courtyard, and onto the boy curled up on the bed.

Before falling asleep, a few thoughts were still swirling in my mind: I need to ask someone about the fasting elixir tomorrow; I need to take pictures of the bookshelf; I need to continue my cultivation...

As I pondered these thoughts, my consciousness gradually faded, and I drifted off to sleep.