The sunlight streamed in from outside the window, bathing the room in warmth. The sound of babbling water from outside was particularly pleasant.
Nezha turned over, covered his head with the quilt, and continued to sleep with his ears blocked.
Then came the urgent knocking on the door, just like yesterday, accompanied by a girl’s crisp voice from outside.
"Knock, knock, knock!"
"Nezha! Nezha!"
"Wake up! The sun’s already shining on your butt!"
"Ah, so annoying! Sister Cuiyu, let me sleep a little longer."
"Knock, knock, knock!"
Cuiyu kept knocking on the door incessantly, leaving Nezha to cover his ears even tighter.
"Nezha, get up quickly. Mr. Fan is already waiting in the study hall. I just took a look; he looks so angry it’s scary!"
Nezha’s eyes snapped open.
Oh no!
It’s eight in the morning!
I forgot about this.
Nezha tumbled out of bed with a somersault, hurriedly opened the door for Cuiyu, while haphazardly putting on his clothes.
"Sister Cuiyu, what time is it now?"
"Just past the hour of Chen."
"Ah? It’s already nine o’clock, why didn’t you come to wake me sooner!"
"What nine o’clock? You didn’t say what time you wanted to get up today."
Cuiyu leisurely fetched some water, soaked a towel, and when Nezha ran over to the basin to wash his face, she helped him fasten the buttons that he had incorrectly buttoned.
After washing his face, Nezha hurried off to the study hall, with Cuiyu struggling to catch up.
"Your hair is still down, you’ll get scolded going out like that!"
Watching Nezha’s disappearing figure, Cuiyu anxiously stomped her foot.
...
"With your hair down and unkempt, lacking manners, how disgraceful!"
"I... I’m sorry, sir." Nezha glanced at Lady Yin, who covered her face in shame, giving up the thought of retorting.
From Mr. Fan’s dark expression, he could tell that the old man was indeed very angry.
"Yesterday I said, what time is the lesson today?"
"Sir, it’s at the third quarter of the hour of Chen."
"And what time is it now?"
"The hour of Chen has passed."
"Then according to the school rules, please remove your pants, Third Young Master, and bare your backside."
Mr. Fan said as he took out a ruler that was ready, a short ebony stick two inches wide and one inch thick.
Nezha’s eye twitched. He hadn’t considered yesterday that even living a second life, he still had to attend an eight-in-the-morning class.
And today, he didn’t expect that being late for the eight-in-the-morning class meant getting his pants pulled down for a spanking.
Please, even though I look like a seven-year-old kid, mentally I’m an adult, okay? Don’t I have any dignity?
He glanced at Lady Yin, who turned her head aside.
Nezha lowered his head to admit his mistake: "Mr. Fan, Nezha dares not anymore, I promise I won’t be late tomorrow!"
"To know your mistakes and to correct them is a great virtue, a teachable child indeed."
Hearing this, Nezha felt a surge of happiness, but the next second, he was lifted by his waistband and laid across Mr. Fan’s knee.
Nezha didn’t know where the frail old man got the strength from, afraid that if he struggled, he might break the old man’s fragile bones; yet the old man pressed his back with one hand and was ready to pull his pants with the other.
Nezha couldn’t care anymore, he tried to struggle free, but a finger pressing on an acupuncture point on his back rendered him motionless.
He then realized this wasn’t good; the old man had come prepared.
"Sir, you can spank me with my pants on, with my pants on, ah—"
"Ah—"
"Ah—"
...
The ruler struck down on the backside repeatedly, burning like fire, bringing tears to his eyes from the pain.
After ten hits with the ruler, Nezha stood aside clutching his backside, grimacing in pain. Although it hurt, his body wasn’t harmed, and he still had to attend the class.
The most frustrating thing was, after the spanking, Mr. Fan even commented, "Not bad, your body is much sturdier than I expected. No wonder the Immortals of the Chan Sect chose you as a disciple."
Nezha only replied, "Having a sturdy body is all thanks to my mother."
"As long as you know. Being able to say that shows that although you’re mischievous, you’re not a bad child."
Mr. Fan turned around, pulled a bundle of bamboo slips from the bookshelf, and spread them out on the desk.
"Today, we’ll start with this ’Annotations of Chengtang’ as your primer for literacy. Chengtang, who is a descendant of the Yellow Emperor, bears the surname Zi. Initially, Di Ku’s secondary consort Jiandi prayed at Gaomei, blessed with the omen of the Xuan Bird, gave birth to Xie. Xie served Tang and Yu as a minister of education, teaching the people effectively, and was thus enfeoffed in Shang. Thirteen generations later was born Taiyi, known as Chengtang..."
The more Nezha listened, the sleepier he became. Finally enduring until the end of class, he revived his spirit, intending to find a time to visit Chentang Pass to play and enjoy the scenery. To his surprise, his Mr. Fan assigned homework after class.
"Copying and writing the characters repeatedly is tedious but is the foundation of learning, absolutely not to be done halfheartedly. Otherwise, the school rules will deal with you, understood?"
"Understood." The term ’school rules’ struck like thunder, no, like a club hitting the butt. Nezha certainly didn’t dare disobey.
When the lesson officially began, everyone else in the study hall, including Lady Yin, had already left.
After finishing his assignments, Nezha helped Mr. Fan tidy up the ink and brushes, asking, "Mr. Fan, how come earlier when you pressed on my back, I couldn’t move at all. Did you hit my acupuncture point?"
"Acupuncture point? What acupuncture point, that stuff from medicine? I don’t know a thing about that."
Mr. Fan held a heavy bamboo book in one hand, steadily in front of him.
Nezha persisted, "Then why couldn’t I move? Could it be that sir’s strength is greater than mine?"
"I heard you went up to Chentang Pass yesterday and could lift even the Qiankun Bow. I’m guessing my strength surely isn’t greater than yours."
"That—"
"Stop guessing nonsense." Mr. Fan cut Nezha off, "All human movement relies on inspiration. I merely infused my inspiration into your body, suppressing your inspiration, so you couldn’t move."
This answer was beyond imagination; Nezha didn’t understand a single word, scratching his head in confusion, staring with wide eyes, and asked, "What is inspiration then?"
"What, you want to go up the mountain to cultivate the Dao but don’t know what inspiration is?"
Only then did Nezha realize, excitedly saying, "Mr. Fan, are you also an Immortal?"
"Immortal? I’m indeed a Qi Refiner." Mr. Fan shook his head, "But just like your father, without forming a Golden Core, not entering the sect, not achieving immortality, I wouldn’t be considered a Cultivator."
Nezha felt not a bit of disappointment, having come to a world filled with immortals and demons, having read so many fantasy and cultivation novels in his previous life, it would really be a joke to say he wasn’t interested in cultivation.
"Though a disciple of Taiyi Zhenren of Qianyuan Mountain Golden Light Cave, after becoming a disciple, my master vanished, and I don’t understand anything about cultivation."
"Is that so."
Mr. Fan, being upright and trustworthy, never spoke falsely. Although he didn’t have the keen eye of Taiyi Zhenren, he could still see Nezha’s immense potential in the matter of cultivation.
However, since that is the case, having found such a precious cultivation seed, why hadn’t a capable Immortal like Taiyi Zhenren taken Nezha back to the mountain for careful instruction sooner?
Puzzling.
While Mr. Fan was puzzling over this, Nezha suddenly knelt to the ground in front of him, earnestly saying, "Please teach me, sir."
"Teach you cultivation?"
"Precisely."
"I’ve heard of your arrangement with Taiyi Zhenren. Since you wish to cultivate, seeking out a truly enlightened master like Taiyi Zhenren to learn the true Heavenly Dao would be best. Why come to me?"
Nezha knelt on the ground, forehead pressed to the floor, fists clenched, saying, "I have questions in my heart, sir."
"Something you can’t say?"
"..."
"Seems like you can’t." Mr. Fan sighed, "Such a young boy with so many things hidden in his heart, how can you achieve clarity of intent? No wonder you haven’t spoken all these years. Very well, if you want me to teach you, it’s not impossible."
"Please tell, Mr. Fan."
"Once you can transcribe the ’Annotations of Chengtang’ without a single mistake, I will teach you what inspiration is."