Beneath the night’s curtain in the capital of the Jade Proclamation Kingdom, one of the many vassal states of the Grand Li Dynasty, nestled in the Western Mountain region of Treasure Bottle Continent, streetlights began to flicker to life. A fortune-telling stall stood at the roadside, where a middle-aged Daoist, slumped over the table in a drunken stupor, shuddered awake. His eyes remained unfocused and bleary as he reached for his flask, taking a swig of “soul-restoring brew” to chase away the alcohol. With a long sigh, he prepared to pack up for the night. He surreptitiously weighed his coin pouch, finding it contained some silver fragments, though mostly coppers.

Along the streets, late-returning officials and young masters, fresh from their spring excursions, passed by. “Green, the grass; yellow, the willow. Drunk, how many dissolute souls!” Their horses seemed to carry the fragrance of spring grass even into the city.

The middle-aged Daoist began gathering his tools: the bamboo divination cylinder, a handful of worn copper coins, polished smooth from years of handling, and a cloth emblazoned with countless surnames. Normally, he used these items to interpret divination poems, read palms, foretell marriages, and even decipher characters or write letters for those less literate, all to supplement his meager income. The cost of living in the capital was exorbitant, far exceeding that of the Jade Proclamation Kingdom’s provincial counties.

As for guessing surnames, it was a “self-preservation technique” he’d learned from Little Black Charcoal years ago—a rather unorthodox trick of the trade. He recalled one of her childhood dreams: to roam the world with her master, amassing great wealth! In a bustling market, she would drum up a crowd while he performed feats of strength and showmanship, selling plasters and invigorating pills. She knew such trades inside and out and was exceedingly skilled at them. While the work might be arduous, it was certainly preferable to other unsavory and unscrupulous means of earning a living.

Chen Ping’an chuckled softly. Embarking on such ventures with his eldest disciple seemed unlikely now. Even if he, as the master, were willing, Pei Qian would probably consider it ridiculous.

His fortune-telling stall had gained a modicum of fame in this district of the capital.

However, it certainly didn’t attract the attention of high-ranking officials or nobles. It was good enough to deceive the common folk, but in the eyes of true Qi refiners, it was no different from common swindling.

Aside from a few small items, his primary tools consisted of a table, two long benches, and a banner. The table could be disassembled, with a detachable surface and legs, for ease of transport. Behind the stall was a wooden cart, which he could load with the dismantled furniture and be on his way, a wandering Daoist free from worldly concerns, with the vast world as his home.

Nevertheless, this Daoist had rented a long-abandoned house in the capital. It wasn’t haunted in the traditional, malevolent sense; rather, its occupants were often afflicted by nightmares and a sense of being “pinned down” by unseen forces, leading to restlessness and, over time, a general decline in health. Consequently, few were willing to pay for such torment. It was akin to the mischievous fox spirits described in ghost stories. The house’s owner had hired so-called high priests to exorcise the dwelling, but their efforts were only temporarily effective. The disturbances would invariably return after a while. The owner, a wealthy landlord with numerous properties throughout the capital, wasn’t particularly concerned about one troublesome house, especially since no one had ever died there. Then, along came an unsuspecting foreigner, a Daoist whom they took advantage of, demanding six months’ rent upfront at an inflated price, knowing he wouldn’t be a repeat customer.

As expected, the Daoist quickly grew displeased and protested, but he was easily dismissed. “The shop is big, and the customer is weak?” The contract was clear, written in black and white, guaranteeing the landlord’s victory in any dispute. And what could a rootless, powerless Daoist do? Moreover, the people of the Jade Proclamation Kingdom’s capital were notoriously xenophobic. The Daoist sought a scrivener to draft a complaint to the magistrate, but no one dared to assist him. Later, as his fortune-telling stall gained notoriety, the landlord, perhaps deciding that reconciliation was preferable to animosity, dispatched his son, a clerk in the county office, to invite the Daoist to a conciliatory dinner. They even returned a portion of the deposit to smooth things over. However, during the meal, the arrogant young clerk rested his feet on the table, burped loudly, and taunted the Daoist, “Aren’t you an exorcist? Are you afraid of ghosts and ghouls?”

The Daoist simply smiled and replied, “The realms of the living and the dead are distinct; Yin and Yang follow different paths. To rely solely on celestial arts and violence is to invite trouble. It’s best to be benevolent to both men and spirits.”

As a long-time veteran of the public sector, the clerk immediately detected the barb in those words. Tapping his boots on the table, he chuckled, “Wu Daoshi’s words are veiled in meaning. I wonder, in your eyes, are my father and I men or ghosts? Are the mischievous entities in the house spirits or humans?”

Tonight, the middle-aged Daoist pushed his cart back to the house, approaching the side entrance. He pulled out a set of keys; the entrance had no steps, allowing him to easily push the cart inside.

As soon as the Daoist fastened the gate, a woman in a red dress “floated” over, mocking, “Daoist Wu, it’s only because our court isn’t strict enough that you, a fraudulent Daoist, are allowed to set foot in the capital, let alone settle here.”

Her hair was adorned in an elaborate courtly style, her skin as white as snow, her eyes alluring, her face delicate, and her sideburns long.

Alas, the woman was not human.

The Daoist immediately retorted, “Miss Xue, your words are mistaken. According to the Jade Proclamation Kingdom’s laws, in addition to the Taoist Registry under the Ministry of Rites, private registers issued by various altars are also recognized as permits. The court has always acknowledged this. I pulled strings and greased palms, spending a full eighty taels of silver for this genuine permit. Not only the Jade Proclamation Kingdom, but even the Grand Li capital is within my reach! This is called having right on one’s side, and a clear conscience fears no shadows.”

Eighty taels of silver had bought him a protective charm. Without this official status, a foreign Daoist trying to earn a living would likely be fleeced by the local officials and clerks.

The woman nodded and smiled, “Indeed, an official by oblique appointment is still an official.”

Her name was Xue Ruyi, a ghost but not of the malevolent or ferocious kind. She could walk freely in broad daylight, only retreating indoors when the county yamen held court, and the sound of the lictors’ batons echoed in the air.
The Taoist fished a sesame seed cake from his sleeve and handed it to the red-skirted female ghost. This was the second installment of his rent. Every day after setting up his stall, he had to spend a bit of money to buy some local delicacies to pay homage to the “lady of the house.” Otherwise, she would cause mischief, not hurting anyone, but creating a racket all night, fluttering outside the window, preventing him from getting any peace. A good night’s sleep was a luxury for the Taoist.

Over time, they had come to understand each other’s temperaments. Now, they maintained a respectful distance, living in peace. Sometimes, they would even chat idly. The Taoist often sought her advice on the rules of the ghostly realm and the pathways of the Netherworld.

This rather aged-looking Taoist, Wu Di, had reportedly already decided on his future Daoist name, choosing a homophone meaning “Invincible.”

She was a spirit, indifferent to food, but the house also had a mortal neighbor who needed three meals a day. She grumbled, “Wu Di, why are you so late today? I’m starving. Hurry up and cook something good for Zhang Hou. He’s at a crucial stage of growth and can’t just eat anything. Zhang Hou is about to take the Prefectural Examination; whether he enters the academy rests on this. If he fails to become a Scholar, I’ll blame you.”

The Taoist had a naturally good temperament and was unpretentious. Being a tenant, he readily agreed, saying he would put away his gear and head to the kitchen to start cooking.

This Taoist didn’t mistreat himself and liked to be meticulous. For example, when making a bowl of noodles, besides preparing cooking wine and various toppings, he would have four or five kinds of chili oil, along with chopped ginger, scallions, and garlic… Just a splash of that would create a sizzling sound, and then, served hot, the taste was simply divine.

The Taoist went to the kitchen, his hands nimble, and quickly prepared a table full of home-style dishes. The red-skirted woman helped “serve” the dishes, each plate floating like a suspended stream of water onto the table.

The female ghost then went to call the young scholar named Zhang Hou from the neighboring house. The reason she lingered here, refusing to depart, was because of a long-ago vow to care for his descendants.

As for why a major city like the capital, with a County City God Temple nearby, would turn a blind eye to her presence, it involved a subtle hint from a superior official within the Metropolitan City God Temple.

Only a street separated the house from one of the two county yamen in the capital. Behind the yamen was a Temple of the Yamen Gods.

At the dinner table, the Taoist boasted about his close relationship with the Salt Affairs Clerk of the County Yamen, how well-informed he was. He said that an internal meeting had been held yesterday in the Temple of the Yamen Gods, and soon there would be several incorrigible “white papers” who had violated the rules, and in a few days, they would be expelled from the County Yamen in the Lord Magistrate’s fury. Of course, they could change their names and re-enter some department to make a living, but without spending thirty to fifty taels of silver on the rules and fees, they shouldn’t even think about getting through the discussions at the Temple of the Yamen Gods…

Zhang Hou was the type who ignored everything outside the window and focused only on studying the classics. Every time he heard Wu Di talking about these trivial matters, the young man would become impatient, but he stubbornly refrained from speaking.

A county yamen, besides the six departments, also had the Salt, Granary, Correspondence, and Enforcement departments, totaling ten departments. The clerks, petty officials, and runners working here were divided into registered and “unregistered.” The so-called unregistered were only relative to the imperial court. In reality, there were two types, controlled by the Personnel Department and the clerks of each department. Therefore, the number of runners was often in the hundreds. Even a relatively diligent County Magistrate probably wouldn’t know the exact number. But even the regular scribes who were set up according to the imperial quota and “ate the Emperor’s grain” didn’t have much status, let alone the members of each department who belonged to the lower professions. No wonder the young man was tired of these petty and useless tidbits.

The red-skirted woman noticed the young man’s displeased expression. She immediately glared at the Taoist, hinting for him not to mention these unpleasant and boring matters.

The Taoist raised his cup and took a sip of wine, laughing, “Someone like me who travels around makes a living from information and inevitably has to deal with all sorts of people. Speaking of which, people like you, Young Master Zhang, who diligently study the classics, naturally aim to manage the world and benefit the people, and display your ambitions in the imperial court and officialdom in the future. But knowing more about the tricks of the lower levels is also a good thing. If you really pass the Imperial Examination one day, and then achieve success and fame, and become an official, you won’t be easily fooled by the staff and underlings around you. Otherwise, you’ll be separated from the common people outside the yamen. What seems like just a door is the difference between heaven and earth. As the local official, the people’s official, how can you truly understand the suffering of the people?”

She rarely nodded in agreement, saying, “Besides knowing some gibberish, that half-baked skill, this fake Taoist, probably even has a fake name, but these few words are insightful. Having more skills doesn’t weigh you down, just like having more money doesn’t weigh you down. As Wu Di said, knowing more about the inside of the officialdom, even if it’s not a good thing, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

To be honest, she had been in this street for hundreds of years. Sometimes she felt bored and occasionally went to “listen in” on the internal discussions of the Temple of the Yamen Gods or the City God Temple. But when it came to the inner workings of a county’s mortal officialdom, she probably understood less than this out-of-town Taoist.

The young man remained silent, just lowering his head to eat, obviously not listening, just feeling that the Taoist was verbose and liked to act like a teacher.

The Taoist didn’t mind, raising his cup with both hands, “Don’t talk about worries at the dinner table, Miss Xue, let’s have one.”

The young man finished eating and left, bidding farewell to that Sister Xue. He was about to participate in the Prefectural Examination presided over by the Educational Commissioner himself, so the pressure was not small.

As the Taoist cleared the plates and bowls, he asked with a smile, “Miss Xue, do you think Zhang Hou doesn’t like to listen to my reasoning because he thinks I’m a charlatan, or because he genuinely thinks what I’m saying is unreasonable, or is it that only if someone accomplished and famous says it, does the reasoning become reason?”

She frowned, but quickly relaxed her brow, pretending to be nonchalant, “Zhang Hou isn’t an old fox like you who travels all over the place. He’s a simple-minded youth, how could he think so much.”

The Taoist smiled, “Simplicity is a cure-all.”

She immediately became unhappy.

The Taoist immediately clarified, “Absolutely a compliment!”

After clearing the table and finishing up in the kitchen, the Taoist washed his hands, shook his sleeves, and saw that Miss Xue was leaning against the door, looking worried.
The middle-aged Daoist was a shrewd fellow, chuckling, “With Scholar Zhang’s knowledge, not to mention acing the academy exams, he’ll be riding the wind and waves all the way through the provincial and metropolitan exams. Mistress Xue need not worry. When the results are posted, this humble Daoist will be the first to rush over with the good news.”

Xue Ruyi smiled, her face radiant. “Do you truly believe Zhang Hou can smoothly pass the imperial examinations and earn his title?” she inquired.

The Daoist pondered for a moment. “Securing the *jinshi* degree should be no problem. This humble Daoist has read several of Scholar Zhang’s examination essays. His writing is mature and experienced, especially his beautiful *guange* calligraphy, upright yet subtly alluring. No matter who presides over the spring examinations, they will be delighted by it.”

At Xue Ruyi’s request, the Daoist frequently visited the book markets in the capital, procuring many compiled collections of exemplary examination essays for the young scholar. The Daoist, being cunning, made a good profit from the price differences.

The Daoist arrived at his door. The female ghost followed, floating ethereally behind him. He took out his key but didn’t rush to open the door. She chuckled, “What secrets are you hiding in there? Could it be that Daoist Wu is keeping a beauty locked away?”

The Daoist adopted an air of righteousness. “It’s late at night, and men and women should not be alone together. A solitary man and woman under the same roof requires avoiding suspicion.”

She mocked, “You’re a Daoist, not some Confucian scholar spouting platitudes all day.”

The Daoist declared, righteously, “This humble Daoist has also studied the classics. If I hadn’t mistakenly wandered into the mountains in my youth and embarked on the path of cultivation, I would have already achieved fame and entered officialdom.”

She took out a brush holder from her sleeve, swirling it in her hand, muttering to herself, “Where should I put such an exquisite scholar’s object?”

The Daoist’s eyes lit up. With lightning speed, he unlocked the door, pushed it open slightly, and extended a palm. “Under the clear sky and bright moon, one only needs a clear conscience. Why fear rumors? Mistress Xue, please, come in quickly.”

The residence had many rooms, but the Daoist had specifically chosen a small chamber as his living quarters. His explanation was that a house could be large, but the room for sleeping must be small, to gather qi.

The warmth of spring returned, and the sounds of insects faintly penetrated the green window screens.

Once inside, she gently placed the vermillion and gold-traced lotus-patterned, pierced-carved dragon-and-chrysanthemum hexagonal brush holder on the table.

The brush holder had previously been displayed in the flower hall used to receive guests on one side of the main hall of the mansion. The Daoist, being knowledgeable, coveted it greatly.

At the time, he had outwardly claimed not to covet it. It was simply that, upon seeing a beautiful object, everyone has a love for beauty. Purely appreciation, nothing more.

In truth, she also possessed a cherished bamboo flute, quite old, engraved with a column of green-filled inscription, “A hero’s heart for a divine melody.”

The Daoist had fallen in love with it at first sight, willing to pay a high price for it. The “high price” was only relative to the expenses of commoners. Two hundred taels of silver couldn’t even catch her ear.

A complete piece of glass covered the desk, completely covering the desktop.

Seeing a stack of neatly written scriptures in small regular script on the desk, she asked in confusion, “You’re a Daoist, why are you copying Buddhist scriptures?”

The Daoist smiled, “I do it occasionally to calm my mind.”

The Daoist moved two chairs, sitting far apart. After Xue Ruyi sat down, she leaned to the side, resting her elbow on the armrest, simply looking at the middle-aged Daoist.

The Daoist felt somewhat uncomfortable under her gaze, asking, “Mistress Xue, what brings you to my humble abode this evening? What are your instructions?”

Xue Ruyi said, “As the old saying goes, a close neighbor is better than a distant relative, Wu Di, isn’t that right?”

The Daoist nodded. “Of course, those old sayings are most reasonable, very flavorful.”

She hesitated for a moment before saying, “I do have a request. I hope you can help me deliver Scholar Zhang’s draft poetry collection to an academician in the Hanlin Academy.”

The Daoist chuckled, pondering for a moment before glancing at the valuable brush holder on the table. “I fear this humble Daoist might only be able to reach the gatekeeper, not the noble academician.”

Xue Ruyi sighed softly.

The Daoist was puzzled. Why was she so flustered? Did she truly hope Zhang Hou would leap through the dragon gate via the imperial examinations? If she sought wealth and status, her family’s resources alone could ensure the young man’s comfortable life for generations. Even if Zhang Hou was already a concealed Qi Refiner, she could ensure that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything he needed on his path of cultivation before reaching the Middle Five Realms. Moreover, Zhang Hou was so young. There was no need to be in such a rush to advance through the imperial examinations.

The female ghost, Xue Ruyi, and the young scholar, Zhang Hou, usually addressed each other as siblings. It was clear that Zhang Hou was aware of her ghostly nature.

She said self-deprecatingly, “I’m resorting to desperate measures. If Zhang Hou knew about this, he would resent me for the rest of his life.”

In the Daoist’s view, the young man was undoubtedly a scholar, but not a very good material for cultivation. His aptitude was ordinary, and unless something unexpected happened, it would be difficult for him to reach the Cave Heaven Realm.

Ordinary mortals, wealthy families, living in pampered comfort, emphasize nurturing qi and changing the body through dwelling. On the other hand, Qi Refiners, whether humans, ghosts, or demons, possess a different profoundness. There is a wondrous effect of nurturing the body and changing the qi through dwelling. Seemingly going against the norm, even if they don’t reside in mountain Daoist abodes or cave heavens, they only need to take a clean house and sit in stillness, gathering their scattered thoughts into a state of utter silence. Without moving their body’s muscles and bones, their qi and blood follow the soul in a spiritual journey, slowly absorbing the spiritual energy of the heavens and earth, refining their bones and sinews like golden branches and jade leaves, from which they are separated from the mundane.

This residence occupied a large area, especially the backyard, which was full of ancient trees. In the quiet of the night, the cries of the cuckoos echoed.

The female ghost stood up, laughing, “Wu Di, just pretend I never said anything.”

The Daoist followed suit, rising as well. “It’s nothing. If there ever comes a day when you need such assistance, Mistress Xue, just inform this humble Daoist. Don’t mention a Scholar’s residence with a high threshold, I would even brave mountains of knives and seas of fire.”

The female ghost smiled enchantingly. “Daoist Wu is truly wasting his talents by not being a flunky for those powerful dignitaries in the capital.”

The Daoist said helplessly, “Flunky and lackey are such unpleasant terms. Mistress Xue, you could say I’m being a strategist or advisor.”

She reached out, putting the brush holder back into her sleeve, and left unhurriedly.

The Daoist couldn’t stop her in time, having no choice but to watch the cooked duck fly away.

The female ghost walked through the corridors alone, arriving at the backyard, ascending the pavilion. From there, she could see the young man in the neighboring residence. Light, tinted yellow, shone from the window of his study.

A sliver of moon evoked the sound of washing mallets from thousands of households, awakening countless dreams of spring within boudoirs.

The Daoist tidied up the scriptures he had copied on the table, opened the drawer, and took out engraving knives and stone, beginning to carve seals. He added inscriptions to the sides of two identical collector’s seals that had already been carved with the base inscriptions.
Practice good deeds diligently, and refrain from all evils. Bestow kindness without remembrance, and never forget the grace received.

With practiced movements, the Daoist finished carving the seal. Then, by the lamplight, he perused a local gazetteer. Book publishing was exceedingly developed in the Yu Xuan Kingdom’s capital, and he had acquired many fine books here.

Reading a new book is like a welcome rain after a long drought. Revisiting an old book is like a brief separation making the reunion sweeter.

Copying books required proper posture, but perusing miscellaneous books was more casual. The Daoist crossed his legs, took out a handful of melon seeds, and flipped through the pages while cracking them open.

Outside the window, the cry of the cuckoo echoed once more.

The middle-aged Daoist murmured to himself, “A thousand generations of men, consumed in a few cries. Worry and diligence, or tranquility and detachment, neither too bitter nor too barren.”

This journey, this “Daoist” who emulated Lu Chen’s stall-keeping, was here to collect an old debt from a certain family.

Hence, the seal he carved bore the two characters “Autumn Harvest” as its inscription.

Chen Ping’an retrieved the gourd for nurturing swords, walked to the window, tilted his head back for a long while, and drank all the wine within, his eyes growing brighter.

Closing his eyes, he seemed to hear the sound of a torrential downpour from many years ago.

Seven or eight stars hung in the heavens.

In the outskirts of the capital, by the roadside stood a thatched-roof wineshop. A noble young master lay sprawled, clad in fox fur, his hand clutching a gold-threaded horsewhip. His head rested upon the lap of a woman beside him.

The woman by the wine stove was like the moon, her fair wrists like frozen snow. The beautiful woman sat on the ground, her skirt spread like a scarlet flower. Her hands moved gently as she leaned over to massage the young master’s brow.

The sound of hooves echoed on the official road in the night. A young woman led the way, riding a magnificent cyan horse. Behind her followed a group of spirited and lithe young maidens, all bearing swords.

Moreover, these young maidens, though young, possessed long and steady breaths, far from being mere ornaments. Any expert could tell at a glance that they were well-trained.

She dismounted, glaring at the noble young master who was indulging himself here. Her delicate eyebrows arched upward in anger. Raising the whip high, she lashed out with force, the sound like a cracking firecracker.

The beautiful woman selling wine here raised her head to look at the young woman who had come to confront them, smiled sweetly, and put a finger to her lips, gently shushing, signaling not to disturb the man’s slumber.

The woman didn’t even glance at the foxy enchantress, finding the sight repulsive. She strode into the wineshop and kicked the young man, who was sleeping like a log, shouting angrily, “Ma Yanshan, stop playing dead!”

The young man and woman bore some resemblance. The noble young master, addressed by his full name, opened his eyes, yawned, and groggily sat up, smiling. “What is it this time? Who’s upset you? Just tell your second brother, and I’ll make sure they don’t hold a grudge overnight.”

The woman was furious at his lack of ambition, wondering if the family’s future would rely on such a lazy good-for-nothing. She wished she could strike him across the face with the horsewhip. “Ma Yanshan, look at your drunken, degenerate state! You’re not even worthy of holding the reins for Ma Che!”

Ma Yanshan grinned. “He’s just a cousin. He’s only ever been good at studying, and even then he reads like a robot. You can tell how a man will be at three years old. Not that I’m cursing him, but I don’t think he’ll amount to much.”

“Even if the kid somehow makes something of himself and becomes a high official, so what? Besides, wasn’t I once a Third Rank Scholar? If that little rascal Ma Che has the guts to achieve the ‘Triple Crown’ in the imperial examinations, I’ll personally throw a banquet for him. The Six Ministries, the Nine Minor Courts, how many officials does he want to toast him? Five enough? If not, I can get ten…”

Saying this, the noble young master raised the arm holding the golden whip and shook it, then raised his other hand and smiled. “I’m just afraid Ma Che won’t appreciate it.”

Ma Che was a widely recognized child prodigy, a typical scholar in white robes, already possessing the reputation of a future minister.

Unlike this lazy so-called “Third Rank Scholar,” Ma Che had grown up amidst wealth and luxury, having read ten thousand books at a young age.

Seeing that the woman was about to become angry, Ma Yanshan could only beg for mercy. “Ma Yuemei, good sister, I’m afraid of you, okay? Tell me, what earth-shattering matter is worthy of your presence, personally dragging me home?”

Ma Yuemei glared and scolded, “Family matters, talk about them at home!”

Ma Yanshan smiled. “It’s alright, Madam Song is not an outsider.”

The beautiful woman looked helpless, as she dared not interfere in the Ma family’s affairs.

About twenty years ago, a Ma family had moved to the capital of the Yu Xuan Kingdom. Upon arriving, they had purchased a former prime minister’s mansion at a high price.

Within a country, there were three levels of wealthy families. The first level was known to many commoners, with a large number of such families. The second level was heard of by all commoners, and they were few in number. The last level was unknown to all commoners and most of the local officials, never even having heard of them.

The Ma family belonged to the last category. They were wealthy and influential, yet their name was unknown. Only a small group of high-ranking officials in the imperial court and a few mountain sects had heard of this foreign family. Their specific origins were shrouded in mystery, with only a few unverifiable rumors claiming that the Ma family was the “money bag” of a certain high-ranking official clan in the Great Li Dynasty. Others said that the current head of the family had a talented eldest son who cultivated on a mountain, a genius who had become a terrestrial immortal at a young age.

When one achieves enlightenment, even the chickens and dogs ascend to heaven. The entire family had prospered along with him.

The largest restaurant in the capital, an immortal inn, and the immortal ferry in the capital region were all private property of the Ma family. In addition, there were numerous silver houses and mines, all registered under the names of puppets cultivated by the family. They might be the servants of a prince or county lord, or the beloved sons of a vice minister or canal transport director.

For example, this indolent Ma Yanshan had participated in the imperial examinations as a youth, passing through the ranks and ultimately riding a white horse, becoming a Third Rank Scholar in the capital.

However, in truth, it was his sister, Ma Yuemei, who had taken the examination for him. He, as the elder brother, had obtained the identity of a Third Rank Scholar for nothing. He now worked at the Hanlin Academy, not bothering to attend his duties. As for evaluations, they would never fall on his head. From the Ministry of Rites to the Hanlin Academy in the Yu Xuan Kingdom’s capital, no information had been leaked whatsoever.

This showed the extent of the Ma family’s power, reaching an exaggerated level.

Having moved to the Yu Xuan Kingdom’s capital as a clan, they had expanded over the past twenty years, with four generations living under one roof. The newly compiled family genealogy listed over a hundred members.

Although the Ma family was a newcomer, they had the power to control the government if they wanted to, but they had no such intention. This was mainly due to the shrewd mother of Ma Yanshan and Ma Yuemei.
Ma Yanshan squinted, a flicker of cunning in his eyes. “Allow me to hazard a guess… Could it be that *he* has finally returned home?”

Ma Yuemei remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Ma Yanshan’s face was calm as he continued, “We only have the one elder brother. Not a cousin, not a distant relative, but a true, bona fide brother! Same father, same mother. Yuemei, tell me, in all these years, from the day we were born until this very moment, has he ever once visited us?”

He shook his head, holding up a single finger with a mirthless smile. “If my memory serves me correctly, it seems… perhaps… possibly… most likely… not even once, ah.”

The young noble, draped in snow-white fox fur, leaned back languidly, crossing his legs. “Such a caring, family-oriented elder brother. Where else could one possibly find such a paragon of virtue?”

Ma Yuemei’s face darkened. “Cease your idle chatter! Return home at once!”

In her heart, she held that elder brother, whom she had never even met, in the highest esteem. If Ma Yanshan weren’t her second brother, she would have already lashed him with her whip.

In truth, after the great battle that swept through half a continent had ended and peace had returned to the world, the two siblings had, in past years, considered returning to their ancestral home to pay their respects. However, their parents, who were usually exceedingly indulgent, had vehemently opposed the idea, offering a variety of excuses. They pointed out that the family had relocated so many years ago, the journey was long and arduous, and likely feared that Ma Yanshan and Ma Yuemei would secretly run off. They even forbade the siblings from returning home without permission, threatening them with corporal punishment.

They had raised the issue with their parents several times, but to no avail. Eventually, they had abandoned the idea.

Because their family possessed a Celestial Ferry and two private merchant ships that travelled south for trade, they frequently came into contact with mountain gazettes. As such, both siblings were curious about their ancestral homeland. However, unlike his sister Ma Yuemei, who yearned for the mysteries of the Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven, Ma Yanshan was not interested in the esoteric practices of the mountains. This idle, wine-loving rake was only interested in the Night Revels of Beiyue Piyun Mountain. Ma Yanshan merely wished to attend once, to broaden his horizons and satiate his curiosity.

Ma Yanshan stood up, laughing. “Very well, I shall inform Mother and Father that I will definitely return home tonight. If I haven’t shown my face within two hours, send someone to break my legs!”

Ma Yuemei turned and left. Ma Yanshan winked surreptitiously at a young woman riding a horse and carrying a sword. Her face remained expressionless, but she immediately received a vicious lash from Ma Yuemei’s whip. A bloody welt appeared on the young woman’s face, but she remained motionless.

Ma Yanshan remained unfazed. After they rode away, he lay back down on the floor, asking casually, “Is my elder brother truly so formidable?”

The beautiful woman smiled seductively and nodded. “Of course. He is terrifyingly powerful, beyond all reckoning.”

Her eyes glazed over as she spoke, sighing softly. It was a pity she had never met him.

She was the local mountain spirit.

Her mountain was named Zhe’er.

According to the current registry of mountains and waters, she held the position of a seventh-rank deity.

Within a vassal state, she was neither the best nor the worst.

Ma Yanshan’s eyes were glazed over. “Since we are blood siblings, why does he neither commend us when we do well, nor reprimand us when we err?”

She explained with a smile, “According to the sayings of the mountains, those who enter the path of cultivation have shallow connections to their mortal kin. It is best not to become too entangled.”

Ma Yanshan scoffed. “You mean they become completely detached from their families?”

She hesitated, then leaned forward, using two fingers to gently massage Ma Yanshan’s temples, whispering, “It is best not to say such resentful words in the future.”

Their elder brother was an existence so far beyond the reach of a minor mountain spirit of a small country.

A Jade Purity realm cultivator in his forties, a guaranteed Immortal realm cultivator, and possibly even an Ascension realm cultivator in the future.

The leading figure among the younger generation of the entire continent!

Trailing behind him were Liu Baqiao, the Nascent Soul Sword Immortal of the Wind and Thunder Garden, the direct disciple of Immortal Liu Laocheng of the True Realm Sect, and a young Deputy Mountain Master of the Guanhua Academy…

How could he not be beyond reach?

Most astonishingly, he was said to be able to command many ancient deities!

She feared that one day, if she were fortunate enough to meet him, she might say something inappropriate and he might shatter her golden body with a single snap of his fingers.

Sensing the woman’s subtle unease, Ma Yanshan sat up again, managing to retrieve a flask of wine from beneath her skirt. The woman giggled as he tipped back his head, taking a large gulp of the celestial brew, wiping his mouth with his thumb. “I’ve heard my elder brother has a terrible temper, a fact known throughout the continent. I’ve heard that when he was training at the ancestral home of the strategists, he spared none, even his fellow disciples, crippling several so-called geniuses of cultivation. He’s a first-class troublemaker.”

The Mountain Goddess, who was disguised as a wine vendor, chuckled softly, “Having such an elder brother is a blessing accumulated over many lifetimes. Yanshan, take my advice. If you ever meet him, do not argue with him.”

Ma Yanshan ignored her, appearing troubled for some reason.

The woman asked, puzzled, “What is it?”

Ma Yanshan shook the wine flask, looking up at the night sky. “Do you think it will rain tomorrow?”

The woman covered her mouth and giggled. “Certainly not.”

Ma Yanshan murmured, “But someday, it will definitely thunder and rain, right?”

If an ordinary customer had spoken such nonsense, the Mountain Goddess would have simply ignored it. However, she knew that this Ma Yanshan, who appeared to be all glitz and no substance, was far from simple.

Even the Mountain God of the Xiyue Heir’s Mountain, Song Furen’s superior, held Ma Yanshan in high regard, frequently hosting him for private banquets.

She pondered for a moment, then said, “Rain is bound to fall eventually. But as long as there is a large umbrella to shield you, you will not fear even raindrops the size of soybeans, let alone knives falling from the sky.”

Ma Yanshan’s face remained clouded, pulling his fox fur collar tighter. He muttered, “Damn unseasonal cold snap.”

Although Ma Yanshan was notorious for his dissolute lifestyle and womanizing, he possessed a more acute sense of social dynamics than his seemingly clever sister.

Frankly, Ma Yanshan considered his sister Ma Yuemei to be a fool. But after all, she was his own sister. So, he never cared about her bad temper.
Ma Yanshan remembered a time from his childhood, taking a late-night stroll and following the lamplight, he passed by his father’s study. He overheard his parents talking inside. For some reason, his father was flying into a rage, repeatedly cursing, “Dog spawn! That little bastard should have died long ago! What dogshit did he step in to be able to cling to a Mountain Lord…” He grew angrier with each word, even smashing an expensive official kiln penholder. His mother then complained, “Three hundred taels of silver gone just like that! You’re better at squandering than earning!”

Then his mother began to disparage that person surnamed Wei, saying he was no good. According to the news they received, he seemed to be of humble origins, just a lowly Land Deity from Qidun Mountain near Red Candle Town…

As a child, he quietly squatted by the corner of the wall, ears perked.

Could their move back then have been to escape something?

Especially in recent years, his parents’ anxiety had become even more apparent. The Immortal Inns and ferry crossings had started to dedicate people to collecting information about the old Dragon Province of Great Li, recording every detail, big or small, regarding Mount Pi Yun and Oxhorn Ferry.

Logically, this made no sense. Ma Yanshan knew the depth of the Ma family’s resources better than anyone. His father was extremely skilled in business, a born merchant. His mother also possessed great vision and boldness, often more decisive than his father. In Ma Yanshan’s words, she was exceptionally “capable.” The number of imperial-decree-holding ladies of high rank in the capital was few, less than five. They weren’t just ordinary wealthy families, yet they all vaguely “followed Ma’s lead.” Heh, “followed Ma’s lead,” a good phrase, truly excellent!

If it weren’t for him being such an unfilial son, always causing trouble and impossible to support, the Ma family, with their intertwined web of power, would have long since stepped out of the shadows and onto the stage of the Jade Xuan Kingdom.

Of course, every forest has its odd birds. Those collateral descendants outside the family’s main branch seemed even worse than him, proficient in all manner of debauchery, even causing deaths. Over the years, he had helped clean up their messes. And there were other shady things he pretended not to know about, such as a secret prison set up in an imperial manor near the capital, used solely for killing and entertainment. A group of young masters from wealthy families in the Jade Xuan Kingdom would often hold so-called “autumn hunts,” going in droves to the territories of small southern countries, led by the local privileged youth. They would ride on horseback, bows in hand, specifically targeting those rural villages, either striking with their blades or shooting arrows… Afterwards, the local government would close the cases under the guise of bandits and even swindle the court for military expenses to “train troops.” Two of these privileged youths were collateral descendants of the Ma family.

Ma Yanshan had once seen a well-born, timid young man, probably a bookish type similar to his own son, Ma Che. But after participating in an autumn hunt on an immortal ferry, the young man’s gaze became exceptionally sharp.

His younger sister, Ma Yuemei, had found this strange. Ma Yanshan had jokingly said that the boy was just coming of age, nothing strange about it. Didn’t she see that he was now looking at chests, hips, and long legs, instead of just faces?

The Ma family wasn’t conspicuous in the capital. The carefully chosen street where their residence was located was actually filled with impoverished households whose ancestors had been prosperous. Many of their neighbors of twenty years had simply mistaken the Ma family for nouveau riche, perhaps even looking down on them for just having some dirty money.

But the colorful door gods painted on the Ma family’s gates, the cultivators they supported, those several bodyguards whose cultivation were at least sixth or seventh realm…

Ma Yanshan had roughly estimated that the Ma family’s overt and covert resources were enough to not only deal with business rivals or enemies in the Jade Xuan Kingdom, but also to wipe out a third-rate Immortal Abode on a mountain in Treasure Bottle Continent.

Ma Yanshan shook off his jumbled thoughts and reached out to pat the beautiful woman’s cheek. “I will definitely help with the name change.”

This Mountain Goddess had always felt that Folded-Ear Mountain sounded unpleasant and wanted to change it to “Bent-Waist.”

The woman didn’t get angry but smiled, giving a curtsy to thank Ma Yanshan.

Ma Yanshan walked out of the tavern, pressed his thumb against his index finger, and whistled. Soon, a chestnut horse without reins trotted over.

The tipsy young master expertly mounted the horse and heavily struck the golden whip in his hand, galloping wildly on the official road.

Near the Folded-Ear Mountain Shrine, a young man was sitting on the branch of an old pine tree, watching the tavern at the foot of the distant mountain. The riding team came and went, and finally, it was the young master in the fox-fur coat, galloping with his whip.

He stood up. The view was wide open. Folded-Ear Mountain had always been known for its towering peaks throughout the country. The surrounding mountains were all within sight. Distant mountains stretched, like court officials holding jade tablets. Nearby mountains were as beautiful as maidens with dark hair coiled up.

His body was as if in a vast sea, green waves lifting and falling.

This young man, who was stepping onto the landscape of the Jade Xuan Kingdom for the first time, was alone, with his hands behind his head, gazing at the brightly lit, prosperous capital city.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth and muttered to himself, “Immortality is an immortal cage, and eternal life is the price of eternal life.”

His figure vanished in a flash.

At the tavern at the foot of the mountain, the beautiful woman was closing the door. She turned to look at the young man slowly approaching and said with a charming smile, “Guest, I’m sorry, the tavern is about to close.”

The young man smiled, “Since you’re open for business, what’s the rush?”

The woman frowned. If she couldn’t see through the depths of his cultivation, she wouldn’t care about the few coins. She forced a smile on her face, “Young master, the tavern is small, but the wine is expensive.”

The young man nodded, “No matter how expensive it is, it’s not a problem. Madam Song can just put it on Ma Yanshan’s tab.”

The woman’s heart tightened. An embroidered shoe subtly scraped the ground, drawing energy from the golden statue enshrined in the Folded-Ear Mountain Shrine.

The young man slowly walked toward the tavern, but as soon as he took his first step, the Mountain Goddess was shocked to find that she had lost contact with the shrine.

As the young man was about to pass the stiff Mountain Goddess, he suddenly reached out, hooked his arm around her neck, and dragged her backward. After taking a few steps, as if disliking her being a burden, he gently pushed her. The beautiful woman fell inside the shop. The young man entered the shop, sat down on the floor, propped himself up with one hand on his knee, and waved his hand. “Hurry up and boil two pots of the most expensive wine in the shop, the older the better.”
The woman, swaying as she rose, was seized by a chilling fear. Her voice trembled as she spoke, “This humble spirit is Song Yu of Mount Zheer. May I inquire as to the honored Immortal Master’s name?”

“I was quite fortunate, having been blessed with a good reincarnation, and share the same surname as my dear brother, Ma Yan.”

The youth grinned, revealing his teeth. “Seeing as how you have such a close relationship with my precious younger brother, you may simply call me by my given name, Ma Ku-hsuan.”

Song Yu’s face turned deathly pale.

Ma Ku-hsuan inquired, “What is it? Do you require me to personally heat wine for you before offering you a cup?”

While the deity of Mount Zheer busied herself with heating wine, Ma Ku-hsuan, facing the entrance of the shop, rested his chin on his hand. His gaze was fixed upon the thick clumps of wild grass growing by the roadside.

If he didn’t arrive in the capital city of the Jade Promulgation Kingdom soon, he might as well prepare to collect the corpse.

It was quite interesting, the fellow from Apricot Blossom Lane and that muddy-legged boy surnamed Chen from Mud Jug Lane – one seen as a fool by their peers, the other a jinx to be avoided at all costs. Later, they both left their hometowns around the same time, as if their lives were destined for distant travels. The years they spent in their hometowns were, in comparison, few.

New grudges morphing into old resentments, bitterness growing like spring grass, the wanderer traveling further and further.

It was like a jar of aged liquor, carefully cellared for forty years, placed on a table for two to share. Whether they wished to drink or not, they must. The one who becomes intoxicated would surely perish, while the sober one would live.