Chapter 36: Within the Cycle of Reincarnation

After finishing his morning wash and paying respects to the so-called matron, he rushed off to the academy without even eating breakfast, yet still arrived late. The teacher was an elderly gentleman, his face solemn, a long ruler in hand. As soon as Qin Chengming saw him, a sense of fear—one long absent—rose in his heart, though it felt oddly imposed, as if forced upon him. He had no idea what was truly happening now; until he figured it out, following the story as it unfolded in this environment seemed the safest choice.

Bending at the waist, Qin Chengming greeted the teacher with reverence, saying, “Good morning, sir!”

The teacher paused, apparently surprised—he had never heard Qin greet him in such a respectful tone. His expression softened, and he replied, “Good. Sit down. I’ll let it pass this time, but don’t come so late again.”

Only a single seat remained in the classroom, and Qin Chengming took it. The teacher glanced at him before returning to the lectern. “Today’s lesson covers a branch of the greater discipline of formations: protection. If you wish to live long, you must first preserve your life. This truth has been proven by countless ancestors, paid for in blood. No matter how brilliant you are, if you lose your life, nothing follows.”

He surveyed the students below; they appeared alert, none shirking, so he continued. “Formations may seem profound, and indeed they are, but they can also be simple. No matter how complex, every formation is constructed from basic formation sigils…”

At this, a student raised his hand. The teacher looked at him. “What’s your question?”

The student spoke excitedly, “So, according to you, as long as we learn the basic formation sigils, we’ll understand formations? That’s easy—I’ve already memorized all the basic sigils.”

The teacher, unhurried, glanced at him. “Memorized them all? Then tell me, what happens when you combine sigil number one with sigil number fifty-eight?”

The student’s face flushed crimson, his head nearly disappearing beneath the table. “Sir, I don’t know.”

The old gentleman laid his book on the desk. “You don’t know? Then what are you boasting about here? Your families pay to send you to me so you can study diligently, not so you can behave like those idle students at the state academy. If you insist on bringing those bad habits here, your families can take you home. Rest assured, every bit of your tuition will be refunded. Anyone considering it can discuss it with their families tonight and withdraw tomorrow morning. If you choose to remain, listen to my lessons and stop daydreaming.

Imagining yourself as a genius who learns everything instantly isn’t the mistake—the mistake is believing, even before you begin, that you are invincible. Who planted such unrealistic notions in your minds?

Take me, your teacher. In my youth, I was considered a prodigy. I studied diligently for one hundred and twenty-eight years, and now I am but a fifth-rank formation master, barely scratching the surface, possessing only the fundamentals. To reach my level is not something done in a short time, and above me there are still sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth ranks, and beyond—Heavenbreaker, Innate…” He waved his hand. “Enough! There’s little point in saying more—you wouldn’t understand it yet. Let’s return to the lesson.”

Picking up his book, he glanced at where he’d left off, then clasped his hands behind his back and began a detailed explanation.

Qin Chengming listened in a daze. Formations and sigils had always been inseparable, but according to the teacher, formation masters and sigil masters belonged to entirely separate disciplines. Furthermore, the construction of formations, as he understood it, involved calculations of heavenly stems, earthly branches, the five elements, eight trigrams, local climate and geography. All these factors combined to form what cultivators referred to as “qi.” Whether sand formations, trapping formations, or protective arrays, all formations had to be laid in harmony with qi. Materials imbued with qi were placed according to specific positions, guiding the local qi to effect change—this was a formation.

But the teacher’s explanation was entirely different from what he knew. Here, formations started with basic sigils, and apparently required an especially complicated algorithm to combine sigils for different effects before they could be used. That was the general idea, though his mind was in chaos throughout the lesson; whether he remembered it correctly, he could not say.

The entire day’s lessons left Qin Chengming bewildered. Only after classes ended did he have time to ponder his predicament. Where exactly was this place? He had merely made a small fortune at sea—not desecrated anyone’s ancestors’ graves—and had finally settled into life in the city of Chaoge. Why had he been cast into such an unfamiliar place once more? The environment was strange; waking that morning, he found himself in the home of a wealthy mortal. A child, forced to pay respects to one person after another at dawn, followed etiquette indistinguishable from that of noble families.

He had thought the academy would teach scholarly subjects for the imperial examination, but instead, it was lessons in cultivation formations. Was this the world of cultivation or the mortal realm? Or perhaps a place where immortals and mortals mingled?

Qin Chengming sat pondering until the child who had woken him that morning came to fetch him, leading him back to the manor.

Upon returning, the household was bustling, a stark contrast to the morning’s quiet. Men and women filled the room—no fewer than forty-nine, perhaps fifty. Fortunately, the hall was large, or it would have been truly crowded.

“Chengming’s back! Are you tired? Come, wash your face; dinner will be served soon—we’re waiting for you,” the matron greeted him with a smile, her attitude now completely different from her earlier coolness.

Qin Chengming could not guess her intentions, but as he now inhabited a child’s body, nothing complex was expected of him. Aside from the matron, he had not met anyone else in the room. He gave a polite gesture to those who looked older, and a maid led him off to wash his hands.

He ate the meal without appetite, finishing quickly before being dismissed. The child who had woken him earlier was named Agen; still young and innocent, he was easily coaxed into divulging information.

His current body was named Jiang Chengming. His father was Jiang’s second master, responsible for the family’s businesses outside, often away and seldom home. His mother, though the legitimate wife, had died long ago due to poor health, and her family lived far away, rarely visiting. In other words, as the eldest legitimate son of the second branch, he had no support in this large family.