“We cultivators subdue demons and monsters with our arts. If we do not wish to slay them, we can use secret techniques to form a contract with them and command them—thus, they are called apostles.”
“So it can be done like that? Master, can you teach me this? I want an apostle too.” Emily Bennett was excited, imagining how impressive it would be if she could control a group of spirits to protect her and run errands.
She tugged at Ethan Young’s sleeve, eager to learn the technique and catch a little spirit to contract as her apostle right away.
“Of course I can teach you,” Ethan Young squatted down and patted her head. “But it’s not that easy. To obtain your first apostle, you’ll at least have to wait until you’ve completed your apprenticeship.”
From then on, Emily Bennett lived in this small courtyard and began her path of cultivation.
Ethan Young himself had a broad and eclectic knowledge, dabbling in everything from feng shui and physiognomy, talismans and incantations, to the Six Ren divination and the thirteen branches of shamanic healing—he seemed adept at them all.
But Emily Bennett discovered her biggest problem: she was illiterate, or rather, she couldn’t read the traditional characters of this era. The characters looked vaguely familiar, but reading them was a different matter—she simply couldn’t fluently understand the complex classical texts.
Although Master Ethan Young was extremely learned in the mystical arts and could explain obscure theories in a lively and simple way, making them easy to grasp, he was oddly clueless when it came to basic children’s literacy.
Ethan Young stared at a copy of “The Thousand Character Classic” on the stone table in the courtyard for a long time, stammering as he read: “Heaven and earth are mysterious and yellow, the universe vast and wild...”
“So what does ‘heaven and earth are mysterious and yellow’ mean?” he scratched his head.
“Heaven is black, earth is yellow, and the universe is vast and boundless.” Emily Bennett recalled learning these famous lines in middle school.
“Yes, yes, that’s exactly it.” Ethan Young nodded happily, then pointed to the next lines and asked Emily Bennett, “What does ‘the leap month completes the year, the pitch pipes harmonize the yang’ mean?”
Emily Bennett shook her head—this was beyond the scope of a science student.
And so, master and disciple stared at each other, blocked at the very first step of literacy on the arduous path of cultivation.
“Chinese characters really are too difficult,” Ethan Young muttered under his breath.
Clifford poked its head out from the tree trunk, its crimson crest dangling over the page: “Human magic is powerful, but they seem to have deliberately made this stuff incomprehensible, so their own kind can’t easily learn it. Truly a selfish species.”
Edgar’s deep voice rumbled from underground: “I think they’re guarding against us demons, afraid we’ll learn their secret arts. Otherwise, with their frail bodies, they’d be nothing but food for us.”
“In any case, I can’t make heads or tails of this stuff. Only... can figure it out.”
Edgar mumbled the last part, but Emily Bennett didn’t catch it, because at that moment, the mistress’s figure appeared, rarely, in the shadow of the eaves.
“I’ll teach her to read,” Sarah said coolly, her sleeves folded.
After these days, Emily Bennett knew that her mistress was truly frail, never leaving her room and always resting. Master treated her with utmost respect and care, bringing her meals to her bedside and tending to every detail himself.
Perhaps due to her poor health, the mistress was cold and reticent, indifferent to everything. Except for the first day, Emily Bennett had barely spoken to her, and never expected she would offer to teach her to read.
From then on, Emily Bennett spent half an hour each day learning characters from Sarah, then followed Ethan Young to study breathing, body refinement, and other five-element secrets.
Sarah’s teaching was rigorous, methodical, and step-by-step.
Ethan Young, on the other hand, was completely unrestrained, with no set method—imaginative and wild. Sometimes he would casually pluck a handful of yarrow stalks and teach the cosmic numbers in the grass. Sometimes, he would solemnly bathe and burn incense to demonstrate the process of drawing talismans and chanting spells. From the profound and orthodox Ziwei Doushu to the taboo arts of curse and suppression—he spoke of whatever came to mind, without reservation, and didn’t much care whether Emily Bennett understood.
After breakfast each day, Emily Bennett would enter Sarah’s room to pay her respects. Sarah would rise from her bed, put on her clothes, loosely tie up her hair, and sit by the window to teach her to read and write, hand in hand.
The mistress’s hands were icy, and her voice always cool and clear. But she taught with great care, often holding Emily Bennett’s hand to guide her in writing beautiful characters with the brush.
The cold touch on the back of her hand made Emily Bennett worry about her mistress’s health. Master’s healing arts were renowned—people would travel from afar to seek his talismans for illness, and it was said his charms could cure any disease.
Yet no one knew what illness plagued the mistress, and even Master was helpless.
Emily Bennett felt a bit guilty that her ailing mistress spent half an hour each day teaching her. So she became even more diligent, burying herself in study. With her foundation, she made rapid progress in reading and memorization, advancing by leaps and bounds.