There is a second chapter.

The old woman, her face devoid of color, her figure hunched, stared blankly at the four figures outside the door.

The scholar who knocked was timid. Seeing the ghastly old crone, he dared not meet her gaze, hiding behind his companions, feeling trapped with no way out, lamenting his misfortune.

This young scholar had a lifelong fondness for reading classic texts. He often stumbled upon bizarre tales of ghosts and spirits in casual jottings within those books. Broadly speaking, they fell into two categories: one filled with romance, like a fox spirit loving a scholar, and the other, like the present situation, dripping with an eerie aura. Even if one checked in at night, superficially finding a deep courtyard with carved beams and painted rafters, if one was fortunate enough to survive until daybreak, it would transform into desolate graves haunted by foxes and rabbits.

In the wind and rain, freezing cold, the scholar holding the torch was braver than his companions. He shifted the large book chest on his back, rubbed his hands for warmth, and said with a wry smile, “Old woman, could you grant us shelter for the night? The rain outside is too heavy, and our friend can’t withstand the cold, he’s already fainted. If there’s no warm place, it’s hard to say if he’ll survive tonight. Please help us, consider it saving a life, which is better than building a seven-story pagoda.”

The old woman, with a stern face, spoke in a difficult-to-understand local dialect, seemingly questioning something.

The scholar wore a bitter expression, and had to explain in the old woman’s same dialect.

The old woman slightly rotated her lifeless eyes and stared at Chen Ping’an, suddenly using the Bao Ping Continent’s standard language, “A martial artist?”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

The old woman looked at the young Daoist priest on Chen Ping’an’s back, revealing the hilt of the peach wood sword. After falling unconscious, the Daoist Zhang Shan’s breathing was even more prolonged and steady than when he was awake. This was probably the wonder of Qi refiners, returning to simplicity in every way, full of surprises. After noticing the peach wood sword, the old woman narrowed her eyes, “Your friend is a cultivator?”

Chen Ping’an continued to nod.

Finally, the old woman looked at the umbrella-carrying scholar who was cowering and fearful, “A scholar?”

The scholar, with a mutton-fat jade pendant hanging from his waist, shook his head, “I haven’t achieved any scholarly honors, I can’t be considered a scholar.”

The old woman twitched the corners of her mouth, swaying her shoulders as she yielded the path, “Since you’re all decent people, please come in. Remember, after entering, rest in your respective rooms, don’t wander around and disturb my master. The consequences are your own responsibility. There are charcoal braziers and stoves in the rooms, gentlemen, please help yourselves, no need to ask. Guests are welcome, my master wouldn’t be so petty.”

When the old woman closed the door, she looked around, then quickly shut the gate. The heavy door in the old woman’s hands felt as light as a feather, slamming shut.

This residence was truly not small. It should be a four-courtyard compound. Chen Ping’an and the other three were arranged in the second courtyard and were told not to go to the rear courtyards. The upturned eaves of the house were carved with auspicious beasts, flowers, birds, and landscapes, and the window lattices were exquisite. The courtyard floor was paved with green and red stone bricks, with clear primary and secondary paths, all in good order.

Covered corridors connected the main house and side rooms, making it convenient to walk freely in the rain.

The old woman’s figure disappeared into the narrow corridor connecting the second and third courtyards, pitch black. Suddenly, a flash of lightning. The two scholars had not yet withdrawn their gazes and happened to see the old woman’s pale face. They were so scared that their souls almost left their bodies, and they hurried to the adjacent side rooms. The two scholars, surnamed Chu and Liu, didn’t dare sleep alone, so they temporarily gathered in one room. After putting down his oil-paper umbrella, the scholar surnamed Liu lit a lamp and studied the books of sages, using it to embolden himself.

The scholar surnamed Chu was slightly braver; otherwise, he wouldn’t have known there was a house here. He put down the torch and started to fiddle with the brazier, taking out a carefully wrapped fire starter from his book chest. Soon, he lit the charcoal fire, and the room quickly warmed up. He looked around, reached out, and pressed the bedding. The bedding had a faint, musty smell of dampness, but that was inevitable. Since the beginning of spring, Cai Yi Country had been experiencing continuous rain, with almost no sunshine. It was not good to criticize the owner on this matter. Besides, having a place to rest was already a stroke of luck.

The scholar surnamed Chu, his hair bound with a green square scarf, was tall and handsome. Between his brows, there was an air of uprightness. He looked around and found that the window lattices were varied, with delicate and auspicious designs, carved with bats, carp, and lingzhi mushrooms. Only scholarly families would have such thoughts. He suddenly leaned close to the window and stared intently, discovering that there seemed to be some vermilion paint marks on the slightly wider wooden strips between the two windows. The handwriting was mottled and blurred, vaguely resembling some talismanic characters.

As the room gradually warmed up, the scholar surnamed Liu became bolder. He put down the book in his hand and saw his companion staring at the window, so he followed his gaze and looked up. As a result, he saw a red patch outside the window, reflecting an old face. A hoarse voice spoke, “It’s late, I hope the two gentlemen rest early.”

The old woman carrying a lantern on her nightly rounds suddenly appeared, almost scaring the two scholars to death.

The old woman had just come from the side room across the courtyard. The box-carrying young man over there was also reading by lamplight, and he was also looking at the window, but he wasn’t so panicked. The old woman shook her head, staggered away, and chuckled, “Scholars are indeed a little timid.”

Across the courtyard, in the opposite side room.

Chen Ping’an leaned against the window and quietly reminded, “The old woman is gone.”

It turned out that the young Daoist priest had woken up before entering the residence. He swallowed a Rejuvenation Pill and washed it down with Chen Ping’an’s strong liquor from the pugilistic world. He instantly perked up. Originally, he didn’t want to waste a pill, but he suddenly felt a flicker of demonic aura, so he dared not be stingy with the pill. A little bit of money couldn’t compare to his own life. Daoist Zhang Shan sat up from the bed, put on a brand new Daoist robe, bent over, and sat next to the brazier, reaching out to warm himself by the fire. He lowered his voice and said, “Chen Ping’an, let’s take turns keeping watch tonight, otherwise I’m really not at ease. I always feel that this place is not right.”

Chen Ping’an smiled, “You just need to hang the peach wood sword with the demon-listening bell near the window. I don’t know much about demons and spirits, so I still need the bell to help remind me. As for keeping watch, I’m good at it. You can sleep soundly. If something really happens, I won’t even fail to notify you.”

Daoist Zhang Shan thought for a moment and found a reason, “After hanging up the peach wood sword and the demon-listening bell, this Daoist will warm myself by the fire a bit longer. It’s not too late to sleep after my body is thoroughly warmed.”
The young Daoist was hanging his wooden sword when Chen Ping’an said, “Someone once drew talismans on the window lattice, but the time has been too long, and they are no longer very clear. However, they should be Daoist talismans. Do you recognize them?”

The young Daoist hadn’t noticed at first, but after Chen Ping’an pointed it out, he carefully examined it. He couldn’t help but admire Chen Ping’an’s boldness and attention to detail. After a careful look, his expression grew heavier. Finally, he reached out and gently stroked the vermilion traces, sniffing them at his nose. He sat back in his chair in silence. “If it’s as I suspect, then it’s a bit troublesome. The talisman drawn on the window lattice is a Crimson Script used to exorcise ghosts. Judging from the remnants, it should be a type of Divine Edict Sect’s eulogy talisman. It is written with special vermilion ink and contains divine immortal eulogies, making it extremely powerful. Moreover, since it was written by a senior master of the Divine Edict Sect, and it almost fills the entire window, and the strokes are rapid, one can imagine that the evil spirits and ghosts that the senior master had to face must have possessed considerable cultivation.”

The young Daoist sighed and lamented, “If I had known this, I shouldn’t have been so frugal with that Revitalization Pill. I should have taken it earlier. That way, I wouldn’t have been unconscious when I was near the house. Otherwise, I have some knowledge of geomancy and feng shui. If I had taken a look from a distance, I could have roughly seen the wind-gathering and water-collecting characteristics of this house, as well as the fundamental methods of gathering feng shui. I could have determined whether it was Yang or Yin, whether it deviated from the righteous path. As long as I could identify the general outline, I could have deduced many things… Chen Ping’an, I’m sorry. I’ve put you in danger…”

Chen Ping’an listened to the young Daoist’s self-reproach and didn’t offer any words of comfort. He just joked, “Great Celestial Master Zhang, isn’t exorcising demons and defending the Dao your specialty?”

The young Daoist quickly waved his hand. “Don’t, don’t, don’t. I can’t bear the title of Celestial Master.”

Speaking of this, Zhang Shan became somewhat wistful and said softly, “The real Celestial Masters are the direct descendants of the Zhang family of the Dragon Tiger Mountain Celestial Master’s Mansion. They all wear yellow and purple robes and are mountain chancellors inherited for thousands of years. In addition, Celestial Masters of non-Zhang lineage who reach the Middle Five Realms are also qualified to receive the title of Celestial Master. But even as Dragon Tiger Mountain Celestial Masters, there are many kinds. The top-tier Celestial Masters are the old immortals of the Upper Five Realms who enter the Dragon Tiger Mountain Ancestral Hall to enjoy incense offerings. Next are the direct descendants of the Zhang family, who are born with noble yellow and purple auras. One of them will eventually hold the Celestial Master’s Seal and a celestial sword. Further down are the many non-Zhang Celestial Masters who cultivate in thatched huts on Dragon Tiger Mountain. Dragon Tiger Mountain is a natural blessed land that is open to outsiders, as long as those Qi cultivators agree to descend the mountain and slay demons and exorcise evil spirits after they achieve Dao. At that time, Dragon Tiger Mountain will bestow a wooden sword made of peach wood. This is also the generosity of Dragon Tiger Mountain, making us Daoists from other continents yearn for it endlessly.”

Chen Ping’an listened carefully, thinking that this Dragon Tiger Mountain and the Zhang Celestial Masters were indeed quite good.

The rain poured down.

The two small stone lions at the entrance of the house occasionally emitted a faint cracking sound.

The old woman stood outside the main room of the third courtyard, standing on a small stool, hanging the lantern on the cage frame of the corridor pillar. The lantern light was dim and swaying in the wind.

With a “poof,” the lantern went out. It turned out that the candle inside had burned out.

The old woman coughed and stood on the stool again, taking down the lantern. She took out a brand-new candle, as red as blood, from her sleeve. Upon closer inspection, it had no wick. The old woman turned her back to the courtyard, plucked a white hair from her head, and suddenly inserted it into the center of the candle, as if using it as a wick. Then, the old woman gently breathed on the candle, and it instantly ignited. After placing it in the lantern, she hung it on the corridor pillar again.

The lantern swayed slightly, and the light shone in the mansion.

If it were a clear night, it would surely attract moths to the flame. But in this desolate, rainy night, its existence, what was its significance?

The young Daoist had no sleepiness. Chen Ping’an took small sips of the strong liquor in his vermilion gourd, listening to Zhang Shan tell about his previous perilous encounters with demons. Chen Ping’an made a gesture of silence. The young Daoist subconsciously looked towards the peach wood sword by the window. The bells were quiet and there was nothing unusual.

Soon, there was a knock on the door. It turned out that the two scholars were visiting together. Chen Ping’an carried his wine gourd and went to open the door. The sound of the rain outside was still terrifying, and the wind and rain were so strong that there was not a dry spot on the corridor floor. The slender scholar surnamed Chu held an umbrella in one hand and a wine pot in the other, with a smile on his face. The scholar surnamed Liu cupped his hands around his mouth, breathing to warm them, and said with a smile, “Brother Chu brought a few pots of good wine on this trip. Now there’s only one pot left. Don’t laugh at me, but I dare not sleep tonight. I was thinking about whether I could borrow the strength of the wine to fall asleep as soon as I got back. Brother Chu said that joy shared is doubled, so if you two are willing to have a few drinks, shall we drink together? Let me say beforehand, my alcohol tolerance is only about half a catty before I fall. So you two can only drink a little. Please forgive me.”

Chen Ping’an raised the vermilion wine gourd in his hand and said with a smile, “I brought my own wine. The three of you can share a pot.”

The scholar surnamed Liu, who had previously held the umbrella for Chen Ping’an and the young Daoist, strode into the room and laughed heartily, “That’s great, that’s great.”

The scholar surnamed Chu followed behind with a smile, placing the umbrella against the base of the wall. The four of them sat around the brazier, warming the wine for a moment. The scholar surnamed Liu smacked his forehead, “I forgot to bring the wine cups.”

Then he looked at his companion with a wry smile, “Brother Chu, I dare not go and get them.”

The scholar surnamed Chu rose with a smile, saying helplessly, “If there really are ghosts and gods in the world, wouldn’t we not have to be afraid of death? That would be a good thing. Besides, a scholar’s belly is filled with righteous Qi. Ghosts and gods must also respect it a bit. What are you afraid of?”

With more people around, the scholar surnamed Liu, sitting in his chair, became more lively. He joked, “I can’t even pass the petty provincial exam, which means that the righteous Qi in my belly doesn’t weigh much. Of course, I’m afraid. Brother Chu, on the other hand, has the talent of a presented scholar, far surpassing me. Of course, you don’t have to be afraid.”

The scholar surnamed Chu shook his head with a smile and strode away. His figure soon appeared in the opposite wing, then he pushed open the door, closed it, and walked back quickly, bringing four wine cups. The inner walls of the wine cups were painted with two proud and spirited multicolored roosters. The Daoist Zhang Shan took a wine cup and tentatively asked, “Brother Chu, Brother Liu, could these be the fighting rooster cups unique to the Colorful Clothes Kingdom?”

The scholar surnamed Liu’s eyes lit up, “Has the Daoist also heard of our Colorful Clothes Kingdom’s fighting rooster cups?”
The lamp on the table cast a dim light. The young Daoist priest twirled the wine cup between his fingers, tilting it to catch the glow of the charcoal fire in the brazier. He scrutinized the two vibrant rooster figurines, murmuring, “Renowned, truly renowned! I’ve long heard tales. Back in my travels from the northern Ju Lu Continent, I witnessed martial artists squandering fortunes, wagering on these very fighting cocks. It’s said that once you fill the cup with wine and infuse the rim with a wisp of spiritual energy, the roosters will battle of their own accord, a fight to the death. Even those revered Sages of the Middle Five Realms can’t predict the outcome. These ‘Fighting Cock Cups’ fetch a hundredfold, a thousandfold price beyond your Precious Bottle Continent. The ferry crossing in Nanjian Kingdom, the Fighting Cock Cups of Caiyi Kingdom—they’re vital cargo for any departing ship.”

The Liu surname scholar, a hint of pride in his voice, nodded and chuckled, “Spiritual energy or not, I couldn’t say. I only know that our martial masters in Caiyi Kingdom relish this pastime. Once wine is poured, a mere pinch of the fingers brings the cups to life, the roosters clashing until a victor emerges. As for the mystique, I’ve seen records in local gazetteers, speaking of the uniquely wondrous five-colored clay used to craft these cups. Legend has it that this soil, once removed from Caiyi Kingdom’s borders, quickly loses its essence, indistinguishable from common earth. This is what makes these Fighting Cock Cups our exclusive porcelain.”

Daoist Zhang Shan clicked his tongue in wonder, musing, “Whoever could monopolize this porcelain clay would surely amass a fortune, becoming rich overnight!”

Chen Pingan believed this explanation. His experience with porcelain-making had given him a deep understanding of soil properties. The Dragon-Quarry kiln workers, generation after generation, interacted with the earth. Chen Pingan had heard countless esoteric tales. Old Yao, for instance, had spoken of how, once soil left the ground, its destiny was set: whether it would be molded into a clay Bodhisattva, to receive incense offerings; or fired into porcelain, destined for the Emperor’s palace; or become broken pots and discarded jars in the common folk’s homes, enduring fire and water—each had its roots, its own fate, akin to that of men.

The Liu surname scholar, flushed after three or four cups, was now pleasantly tipsy, his mind at its sharpest. He shook his head slightly, inquiring with a smile, “Daoist, you carry a peach wood sword. Clearly, you are a celestial being. Could you perhaps animate this Fighting Cock Cup? If so, perhaps we could wager, seek some amusement. A friendly gamble, what say we bet on something?”

The scholar’s face was alight with an unusual fervor, revealing that he was a different man entirely when drunk, and possessed a certain gambling streak.

The Chu surname scholar sighed, softly advising, “Brother Liu, after half a catty of wine, it’s time to rest.”

Daoist Zhang Shan quickly added, “A Fighting Cock Cup is worth a good sum of silver. Why squander it?”

The Liu surname scholar drained his cup in one gulp, then with a grand sweep of his hand, smashed the wine cup against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He roared with laughter, “Since time immemorial, sages have languished in solitude, only drinkers leave their mark! But those who leave their mark eventually perish as well! Only this thing remains for centuries, truly absurd! A Fighting Cock Cup, what is it worth in Caiyi Kingdom? A mere two taels of silver! What is an advanced scholar worth? Now that is expensive, something I, Liu Zhen, could never afford…”

The Chu surname scholar’s face was filled with embarrassment as he explained, “Brother Liu speaks nonsense when drunk. I implore you, Daoist and young master, to forgive him.”

Chen Pingan smiled faintly, silently continuing to drink his wine.

Finally, Liu Zhen, rambling incoherently, was helped away by his companion, Zhang Shan escorting them to the door.

Chen Pingan glanced toward the doorway, but remained seated.

In the pouring rain, a burly, bearded swordsman strode through the downpour towards the house, knocking heavily on the door.

The old woman stood within the threshold, her voice raspy, “What is your business?”

The man bellowed, “Shelter from the rain!”

The old woman replied ominously, “You, good sir, your voice is full of vigor. You do not seem to be someone seeking shelter.”

The man snapped, “What, does your esteemed residence not have even a sliver of space to spare?!?”

The old woman cackled, “Shelter we have aplenty, but you, good sir, are overflowing with vitality. My master may not approve. If you were to anger a master with a short temper, not only would you not find shelter, but a place to lay down a hundred and seventy or eighty catties of fine meat might be found.”

The swordsman’s thick beard bristled like spears. He gripped the hilt of his sword and glared at the door, “Enough with the nonsense! Open the door now. This rain is wickedly strange. How can I not seek shelter? How else will I frequent the pleasure houses, or risk being mocked to death by those bewitching little succubi?”

The door creaked open. The old woman sighed softly, “To be mocked to death is preferable to truly dying, after all.”

The bearded swordsman visibly shuddered, but then roared with laughter, “This pure body of mine has accumulated thirty years of yang energy! Fear nothing! Not even the ancestors of demons and monsters would dare approach me!”

The rough man entered the courtyard, his brow furrowing as he spotted the screen wall.

The old woman closed the door with a resounding thud.

Outside, one of the stone lions shattered with a crack, its head tumbling to the ground, pulverizing into dust.

However, the sound was drowned out by the torrential rain.

Within the grand families of certain southern nations of the Precious Bottle Continent, women often resided in unique, secluded chambers known as embroidered towers. Some strict aristocratic families would even dismantle the stairways, imprisoning their unmarried daughters like books on a high shelf, awaiting their wedding day.

In the innermost courtyard stood such an embroidered tower. On the second floor, in the shadows of the night, a man was drawing eyebrows for a woman. The eyebrow pencil gently brushed against her face. Her flesh was decaying, her appearance grotesque. Patches of bone were exposed, and maggots wriggled, yet a hint of joy could still be seen in her smile.