Sin Becomes a God

Chapter 12: Making a Good Impression

As the saying goes, the depth of true love depends entirely on the quality of one’s acting. In the real world, Lu Renjia had gained a great deal from following those pickpockets whose acting skills rivaled those of an Academy Award-winning actor. Since Song Qingshu’s handsome features triggered the special skill “Performer’s Mask,” Lu Renjia’s “approachability” had skyrocketed for a time. Just then, as Lu Renjia seemed to casually walk past Zhang Wuji, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Zhang Wuji, looking haggard, saw Song Qingshu stop and stood up as well, calling out, “Good morning, Senior Brother…” Lu Renjia replied indifferently, then furrowed his brow. He picked up the meal from Zhang Wuji’s table, examined it closely, and said coldly, “Hmph! Is the Wudang School so poor we can’t even put food on the table? Or have the kitchen disciples been pocketing the silver for themselves?” Faced with this accusation, the kitchen disciples immediately panicked. A bewildered Zhang Wuji quickly interjected, “It’s nothing… Senior Brother…” “What do you mean, ‘it’s fine’? You’re the only son of your Fifth Uncle… the Seven Heroes of Wudang are as close as brothers… It’s my fault for not noticing this before, but now that I’ve stumbled upon it… how can I turn a blind eye?” Lu Renjia’s impassioned rebuke left not only Zhang Wuji momentarily at a loss, but even the Wudang disciples who had been secretly playing pranks on him were stunned. Before Zhang Wuji could speak, Lu Renjia pointed at the Wudang disciple distributing the meals and said coldly, “These highly nourishing foods are too rich for Junior Brother Wuji’s frail constitution… Since you’re the one carrying this meal, you should be the one to eat it…” “I… I’m not… Senior Brother…” “What do you mean, ‘I’m not’! Stop stammering… Eat it, or else I’ll punish you by making you guard the outhouse!” Lu Renjia snapped coldly. Seeing Song Qingshu—who had always been neither warm nor cold toward him—actually standing up for him today, Zhang Wuji felt a flood of emotions. The misfortunes of his childhood had forged his stubborn character. For the past eight years, he had relied on Zhang Sanfeng—the undisputed leader of the martial arts world—to infuse him with inner energy every night to ward off the cold poison of the Xuanming Divine Palm. Far from extinguishing Zhang Wuji’s hope for revenge, these eight years of torment had, through relentless trials, made him even more adept at concealing his true self. “Never mind… Senior Brother, it’s all right… I believe this junior brother acted without malice… Senior Brother Song, please spare him this time…” Zhang Wuji said. “Hmph! Since Junior Brother Wuji is pleading on your behalf, I don’t want today’s incident to happen a second time… Junior Brother Wuji is suffering from the cold poison; stew him some chicken soup every day to restore his health… If anything else goes wrong, it won’t be as simple as guarding the outhouse!” ” After Lu Renjia issued his orders, the disciples who usually played pranks on Zhang Wuji were left at a loss. But it was clear that from now on, they would no longer be able to give Zhang Wuji a hard time. Amid Zhang Wuji’s grateful gaze, Lu Renjia turned and walked away with a faint smile. Once outside the dining hall, Lu Renjia felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. “A good start is half the battle… If I show Zhang Wuji a little more kindness, I’m sure there will be unexpected rewards when Zhou Zhiruo arrives on the mountain…” In the days that followed, Lu Renjia acted like a close older brother, frequently offering warmth to the hapless Zhang Wuji—such as new cotton clothes and quilts, and better meals. After spending time together, Zhang Wuji’s impression of Song Qingshu improved significantly. As the first disciple of three generations in the Wudang School, the responsibility of teaching martial arts to the fourth-generation disciples naturally fell on Song Qingshu. Lu Renjia—whose soul now inhabited Song Qingshu’s body—could clearly see that, although the Seven Heroes of Wudang were as close as brothers, all of this was deliberately orchestrated by Song Yuanqiao, the school’s eldest disciple. After all, for people of ancient times, the hierarchy was “Heaven, Earth, the Sovereign, Parents, and Teachers.” Having Song Qing-shu—the top disciple of the third generation—teach martial arts to the fourth-generation disciples undoubtedly added an extra layer of master-disciple bond, allowing Song Qing-shu to naturally build a loyal following. Standing with his hands behind his back, Lu Renjia watched as hundreds of fourth-generation disciples on the martial arts platform performed the Wudang introductory sword form in perfect unison. A flood of emotions welled up within him. “Looks like this ‘stepfather’ Song Yuanqiao isn’t treating me too badly after all… This is clearly the rhythm of cultivating the next generation of leaders…” Seeing Zhang Wuji sitting under a pine tree in the distance, surreptitiously watching the fourth-generation disciples’ drill, Lu Renjia actually felt a twinge of pity. “Damn it… Damn it all! I’m the chosen one of the ‘Evil God System’! Things like moral integrity should be flushed down the toilet… No… The one-year deadline is drawing ever closer… Better the friend die than the monk…You’ve got Zhang Sanfeng pumping internal energy into you to keep you alive. If I can’t take out Cheng Kun and the two Xuanming Elders within a year, it’ll be me, Lu Renjia, who’s dead…” He quickly banished that cheap pity from his mind, put on a smile, and waved at Zhang Wuji, who was hiding in the distance and peeking at them. When Song Qingshu caught him peeking, Zhang Wuji’s heart skipped a beat. Since he’d been struck by the Xuanming Divine Palm, his Grandmaster Zhang Sanfeng had specifically forbidden him from practicing martial arts. However, upon seeing the faint smile on Song Qingshu’s face, Zhang Wuji steeled himself and walked over. “Senior Brother Song… I… I wasn’t trying to peek on purpose…” Waving his hand, Lu Renjia chuckled, “You’re a Wudang disciple too. Even though the Grand Master told you not to practice martial arts… just taking a peek shouldn’t be a big deal… If neither of us says anything, the Grand Master probably won’t find out, right?” “Thank you… Senior Brother…” “Oh, what’s there to thank me for? Within Wudang, only you and I are the sons of the Seven Heroes of Wudang. Fifth Uncle met with a tragic end… As your senior brother, how could I stand by and watch you suffer?” Struck at his heart, Zhang Wuji’s face darkened. Lu Renjia, who had taken it all in, continued, “Back then, those five major sects ostensibly came for your foster father, but we all know full well how many actually died by his hand… Those scoundrels—thieves and harlots—were only after the Precious Dragon-Slaying Sword! Hmph! I can’t stand Abbess Mie Jue of the Emei Sect the most—she relied on the Yitian Sword to seriously wound my father! Sooner or later, I’ll avenge this!” “And then there are the Two Elders of Mount Hua. Rumor has it they only take beautiful women as disciples—I don’t know if they’re recruiting disciples or seeking concubines!” “Those two from the Kunlun Sect aren’t any better. I hear that Sect Leader He is a complete womanizer, yet he’s terrified of his wife… The moment his wife, Ban Shuxian, discovers he’s been cheating, that tigress storms right into his home… Rumor has it she’s killed ninety-nine mistresses in a row, earning her the nickname ‘Flower-Crushing Yakṣa’!” “The weirdest of all are those five old geezers from the Kongtong Sect. I hear they do everything together—eating, sleeping, and even going to the bathroom… Plus, for years, the Kongtong Sect has only accepted male disciples… Looks like the part of their bodies most severely injured by the Seven Wounds Fist is probably their butts…” “And don’t even get me started on Shaolin… They put on such a respectable front, but in reality, they’re rolling in money… Their land holdings alone are twice those of our Wudang Sect… Those bald monks go on and on about compassion all day long… Yet during the locust plague a few years back, not a single one of those bald monks donated money or distributed grain…” Zhang Wuji listened silently as Song Qingyu ran through a list of the five major sects of Central Plains, one by one, and found himself feeling a sense of kinship with him. “Senior Brother… this can’t all be true, can it?” Zhang Wuji asked timidly. “How could it be anything but true? There’s no smoke without fire… Besides, you’ve seen for yourself how arrogant and tyrannical Old Nun Mie Jue is—would I lie to you…?” Lu Renjia assured him with absolute conviction. Just then, Qingfeng, Zhang Sanfeng’s personal attendant, came to summon Zhang Wuji. Seeing this, Lu Renjia smiled and said, “Go on… don’t keep your Grandmaster waiting… If you want to watch them practice martial arts tomorrow, just come straight over—no more sneaking around…” Watching Zhang Wuji nod and leave, Lu Renjia thought to himself, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend… Since I’ve been so open and honest, I’m sure the rest of the plan will go smoothly, right?” Time flew by; a month had already passed since Lu Renjia arrived on Wudang Mountain. During that month, aside from patiently waiting for Zhou Zhiruo to come to the Wudang Sect to reclaim the Yitian Sword as per their seven-year pact, Lu Renjia devoted the rest of his time to studying the martial arts of the Wudang Sect. Although Feng Xifan’s *Six Harmonies Divine Art* was considered one of the top martial arts in the world of *The Deer and the Cauldron*, and Feng Xifan’s cultivation level could rank among the top three, it was nothing compared to the Wudang School with its long and illustrious history. Not to mention that the Wudang School was now led by Zhang Sanfeng, a true pillar of the martial arts world, and was truly in its golden age. As the only son of Song Yuanqiao, Song Qingshu’s martial arts skills were among the best of his generation. After all, in the martial arts world, reputation alone is useless—only brute strength counts. At nineteen, Song Qingshu had mastered the “Wudang Mian Zhang,” “Wudang Tiyun Zong,” and “Wudang Raozhi Rou Sword Technique” to a high degree of proficiency. Had Zhang Wuji not, under the auspices of his extraordinary protagonist’s aura, acquired the two top-tier martial arts manuals—the “Nine Yang Divine Art” and the “Great Qiankun Shift”—all at once, it would have been no easy task for him to surpass Song Qingshu. After waiting for over a month, Lu Renjia finally received the news he’d been hoping for: Zhou Zhiruo of the Emei Sect had been sent by her master to Wudang to retrieve the Yitian Sword, as per their seven-year pact. “Zhou Zhiruo? Sigh… Whether in the movie adaptation or in Master Jin’s writings, Song Qingyu is always completely smitten by you… Thank goodness I’m not Song Qingyu…” With that thought, Lu Renjia got up, left the house, and headed toward the back mountain. On the edge of a cliff in the desolate back mountains stood a simple thatched hut. No one would ever have guessed that this humble dwelling was the home of Zhang Sanfeng, the True Master and the preeminent authority of the martial arts world. The melodious sound of a flute echoed off the cliff’s edge. As the saying goes, “Hear the sound, and you hear the heart.” The winding, twisting notes carried a faint sadness, as if expressing longing for loved ones or a lament against this cold, heartless world. “Junior Brother Wuji… are you thinking of your parents again?” An unexpected voice interrupted Zhang Wuji’s flute playing. Turning to see Song Qingshu, Zhang Wuji broke into a warm smile. For over a month now—ever since Song Qingshu had stood up for him in the dining hall—Zhang Wuji had felt a deep sense of gratitude toward this affable senior brother standing before him. “Senior Brother Song, what brings you here?” Lu Renjia shrugged. “The Old Nun Mie Jue of the Emei Sect has sent people to retrieve the Yitian Sword. They’re expected to arrive at Wudang within the next few days… so I came up the mountain to report this to the Grand Master…” Hearing Song Qingshu still refer to Abbess Mie Jue, the head of the Emei Sect, as “Old Nun,” Zhang Wuji smiled with a sense of relief, thinking to himself, “It seems Senior Brother still hasn’t forgotten how Mie Jue injured my Senior Grandmaster all those years ago… Sigh, with Senior Brother’s talent, he might actually be able to take revenge on Mie Jue someday… But I have no such hope…”