A heart untouched by dust

At last, the man from Chenliu informed Zhang Ling of the current situation in the Chen Kingdom. Among the officials, there were treacherous courtiers; after thorough investigation, it was found that in some regions, the taxation on land was severe. However, upon closer inspection, it became clear that these actions were merely carried out in his name, resulting in only the exposure of a few insignificant landlords. As for the higher-ranking officials in the capital, no evidence could be found. Out of desperation, the emperor resorted to drastic measures, ordering a search of all officials' homes, but still found nothing. Persistently searching the officials would only be counterproductive. Thus, though the emperor of Chen appeared to be in a position of glory and the state seemed prosperous on the surface, the truth was that corruption had already taken root, and parasites were gnawing at the very bones of the nation. Moreover, some ministers had even placed people to secretly monitor the emperor himself.

Most importantly, the Grand Minister, Xiao Cenhe, was also involved and had even sent someone to attempt an assassination with the intention of staging a coup.

Yet, as Zhang Ling left the great hall, he instantly cast aside all that the man from Chenliu had told him. The fate of the nation—what was it to Zhang Ling?

After bowing his head in thought, Zhang Ling looked up toward the foot of the hall. Besides Song Linjie, who stood there, a graceful young woman was approaching from a distance.

Descending the steps, Zhang Ling gradually made out the young woman’s features. Her appearance was ordinary, but her eyes were pure and clear, as if untouched by the dust of the world, immaculate and bright, untainted by the turbid corners of the mortal realm. For a moment, Zhang Ling was entranced by her gaze.

Surprisingly, the young woman showed no shyness at being stared at for so long. Instead, she looked directly at Zhang Ling, walked up to him, and suddenly said something that left him astonished: “I like you!”

Zhang Ling was stunned. Was the folkway in Chen truly so open? For a young woman to directly confess her feelings in this manner? Yet, for some reason, Zhang Ling sensed that her words were not like others who spoke to please, but entirely sincere.

Still, Zhang Ling could not help but ask, “Miss, this is our first meeting; to call it love at first sight seems a bit far-fetched, doesn’t it?”

The young woman, her eyes as pure as fresh snow, said something even more bewildering: “Master once said that if you meet someone you don’t dislike, it means you like them.”

Zhang Ling was thoroughly confused. Even Song Linjie beside him found her words nonsensical and said, “Then your master must be a real charlatan. Who says not disliking someone is the same as liking them?”

The girl smiled and nodded. “Perhaps. But my master has never lied to me.”

Song Linjie frowned, puzzled. “Don’t tell me you dislike everyone you meet except him?”

She nodded again. “That’s right. But my master is an exception. Dislike can come in degrees. For example, you—I just find you a bit displeasing. As for the person in the hall, I’d very much like to kill him.”

At her words, both young men were startled. To say such a thing before the very gates of the palace, in front of the emperor—was there anyone in the world so bold?

Zhang Ling hastily hushed her. “Miss, do you have a death wish?”

As he shushed her, Zhang Ling glanced back, only to see the old eunuch descending the steps.

Naturally, he thought the old eunuch had overheard her seditious words and would deal with her with swift severity. Yet, unexpectedly, the eunuch bowed deeply upon seeing her and addressed her with utmost respect, “Miss Chen, His Majesty is in the hall. Do you wish to enter?”

Hearing Zhao Weizhong speak to her with such humility was hard to believe. Other than the emperor, who else could make the chief palace steward so deferential? After probing her aura, Zhang Ling found her to be an ordinary person. Could she actually be some ancient immortal disguised as a young girl, her true nature hidden from the likes of ordinary martial artists?

The young woman produced a simple little bottle, shook it, revealing a few pills inside, and tossed it casually to Zhao Weizhong. “Just seeing him annoys me. These are pills my master refined. Give them to him yourself.”

The old eunuch said nothing further, as if this was a common occurrence, then took the pills and returned to the hall.

After he left, the young woman turned back, her smile as fresh as spring, and said, “Hello, my name is Chen Ke’er. I suppose I’m your senior sister. No need for introductions—I already know you both. Master is in seclusion, so this time, I selected the academy disciples. That’s why I know you already.”

Song Linjie was startled again, but Zhang Ling pondered her words and recalled what Li Jingqiu had mentioned earlier. This girl must be the disciple of the Grandmaster of the Way, Pure and Unblemished.

A heart free from defilement, eyes without desire—such was a heart without dust. She did not practice physical arts, so she, too, must be a cultivator of the Way.

Those who cultivate the Way are inherently different from ordinary people. They require both fortune and opportunity, and must strive diligently. The Confucian school has numerous disciples and many great men of letters, all pursuing the Way. Yet, among cultivators of the Way, there is ever only one at a time. In this era, the scholars have seized the initiative, but does that mean other learned men must halt their steps? Rather, it has made them all the more eager. When a generation’s sage falls, many will vie for the golden dais. It may sound proud, but such is the truth.

Of course, there is more than one path to the Way, and most people do not know how to pursue it, so there’s little competition. It is only a matter of time before this young woman achieves her own Way.

How could Zhang Ling not feel both admiration and puzzlement? If, as she said, she saw only the evil in people’s hearts, and thus measured her likes and dislikes, why did she say she liked him? Zhang Ling was sure he was not a wicked man, but neither was he some saint without desire. Why, then, did she see no evil in his heart?

Unable to make sense of it, Zhang Ling found his gaze drawn once again to Chen Ke’er. Her face was plain, yet impossible to tire of. Unlike bright moonlight—flawless yet cold—her ordinary features, illuminated by her eyes, carried a gentle, soul-soothing comfort that made it hard to look away. She suddenly interrupted his reverie, asking, “Junior brother, shall we return to the academy together?”

Zhang Ling gathered his thoughts. “I’ll go with Song Linjie to the Yu residence first, to collect our things.”

Chen Ke’er skipped ahead, lively and carefree, while the two young men followed quietly, leaving the palace behind.

On the way, Zhang Ling kept watching Chen Ke’er. He had never, from the bottom of his heart, felt so little aversion toward anyone. Yet when he looked at Song Linjie, the latter was his usual, carefree self, seemingly unaffected.

So Zhang Ling asked, “Song Linjie, do you notice anything strange about her?”

Song Linjie didn’t quite grasp what Zhang Ling was getting at, and seeing Zhang Ling’s gaze fixed on Chen Ke’er, teased him, “No, she just seems like a very pure girl. What, have you fallen for her already? Don’t be shy—want me to tell her for you?”

Zhang Ling ignored his knife-obsessed companion and kept thinking. Since Song Linjie felt nothing unusual, the issue must lie with himself. From the very beginning, when he looked into Chen Ke’er’s eyes, he seemed to have inadvertently used a secret technique. From that moment, their communication was not merely verbal, but a heart-to-heart exchange, making him unable to utter even a single dishonest word.