Chapter 203 – The Woman from Afar

Morning light poured over the eastern hills, wrapping the mountain village and fields in a wash of gold. Dew dripped from the tips of the morning glories climbing the fence, swaying gently in the breeze. Li Jinhua, up early as always, bustled about noisily, urging her husband to get out of bed. With a small floral silk jacket in hand, she shooed the toad away into the vegetable patch, then returned to the kitchen to cook with Honglian, who wore a plain skirt and a wooden hairpin, tending the fire and preparing the meal.

Cooking smoke curled upward. The mottled old hen rolled its eyes, clucking as it scratched at the ground. Amid the creaking of the door, Lu Liangsheng squeezed past the drowsy Daoist, still rubbing his sleepy eyes, and went to rinse his mouth and wash his face. Looking at the familiar courtyard, he always felt a sense of steadiness in his heart.

As for advancing his cultivation, Lu Liangsheng was in no hurry. The path of cultivation was difficult; every step had to be firm. The Nascent Soul realm was not something easily attained. If one’s foundation was unstable, it was very possible that upon forming the Yang Spirit and letting it leave the body, one might never return, ending up instead as a wandering ghost.

At best, one might become a ghost cultivator—that would truly be a great loss.

After breakfast, Lu Liangsheng returned to his room, picked up a wolf-hair brush, then lifted his master—who had secretly slipped back—and set him on his shoulder. From the bookshelf, Veiled Moon called out repeatedly, “Take me with you! Take me with you!” Amid the noise, he greeted the Daoist, then headed out of the village.

Autumn deepened, and a hint of withering yellow could be seen along the foothills.

In autumn, the fish were plump. At the village reservoir built earlier, sturdy men waded in to drain the pond and catch fish. Children with their trouser legs rolled up, and bare feet splashed about, grabbing fish that leapt into the fields, laughing as they tossed them back and forth in play.

Merchants who came every year at this time had already gathered, waiting for the fish to be hauled up. In recent years, the fish from Lu Family Village had become famous—tender, fat, and large. The moment they reached the market, they would be snapped up instantly.

People suffering from minor ailments who regularly ate these fish found their chronic conditions alleviated, and some even recovered without medicine. At first, some believed it was the excellent water of Qixia Mountain that raised such fish and shrimp, and people would even sneak over at night to steal the water. Yet in the end, what they raised turned out no different from ordinary household ponds.

In the end, people could only attribute it to the exceptional feng shui of Lu Family Village and similar explanations.

But how could the villagers not know? Within this river were spells placed by Liangsheng. Bound by kinship and having received such great favor, they kept this secret buried deep. Even to women who married into the village, they would not speak of it—unless those women had borne children and their hearts had truly turned toward the village; only then would they hint at it in subtle ways.

The people busy with their work saw the young man leaving the village and greeted him one after another. Lu Liangsheng smiled and returned each greeting, then turned toward the riverside. Forming a hand seal, he caused the gently flowing water to part into a whirl, revealing the riverbed. The small spell formations that had been arranged there before had loosened quite a bit over the years. After resetting and reinforcing them, he continued along the riverbank to the next spot.

After a short while, he finished setting up the second Spirit-Gathering Formation. Watching the water surface close again, Lu Liangsheng tilted his head to glance at the toad lying on his shoulder.

“Master, how will you cultivate from now on?”

“How could that trouble you, Liangsheng?” The Toad Daoist said, puffing out a mouthful of smoke, shaking the ash from his pipe. “Same name, same fate—yet it cannot change the fact that your master is a demon. I can only restore my demon core anew. It may take quite some time… Well, by the time it’s done, your lifespan may already be exhausted, and I might still not have recovered—then I’ll just be buried along with you.”

Its long red tongue shot out, snatching a flying insect nearby and swallowing it. Smacking its lips, it added: “That’s not so bad either. The higher the cultivation, the more matters one must deal with. Better to be like this—idle and carefree.”

Lu Liangsheng smiled and did not continue the topic. He went on to the northern part of the village to set up the final formation, then returned home before noon. 

News of his return yesterday had already spread. As soon as he stepped into the small courtyard, Wang Banxia had also arrived. Upon seeing the scholar return, he hurried forward.

“Master, you’re back?!”

He was still carrying a bundle of pastries wrapped in oilcloth, which Lu Xiaoxian took from him and set aside. The old man followed the sound of footsteps behind Lu Liangsheng, but did not enter the room. Standing at the doorway, he cupped his hands and bowed.

“This Disciple, a few days ago, followed a merchant caravan back to Fushui County, took some travel funds, and returned. I’ve built a house in the village… Ah, right, right.”

The old man quickly rummaged through the bundle slung over his shoulder and took out some rouge and powder, holding them carefully in his palms.

“Master’s Wife should like this.”

Hearing this, Honglian poked her head out from the painting on the wall. Seeing the items in the old man’s hands, she happily took them. Even if she could not use them on her true form, they could still be applied to her painted skin.

“At your age…”

Lu Liangsheng knew that whether he accepted the old man’s gifts or not, the fellow would persistently come anyway. But at the man’s age, if he truly accepted him as a disciple… the gap in years between master and disciple felt somewhat awkward.

Over there, Wang Banxia waved his hand, his sightless eyes fixed straight toward some point inside the room, and said with a smile: “Master, I dare not hope for immortal arts or Daoist techniques. Even skills like observing qi, reading the pulses, or the art of deduction—Chengen would be more than content to obtain even those.”

By this time, the meal was ready. Hearing his mother’s voice, Lu Liangsheng pondered for a moment, then spoke to the old man:

“Passing on the art of observing qi and deduction is possible. But unless it is to a proper successor, it must not be transmitted further. Can you abide by that?”

“I can! I can!”

Joy spread across Wang Chengen’s face. He shook open his wide sleeves and was about to kneel, but the scholar in front flicked his robe and lifted him up. “No need to kneel. Come in and eat with us.”

“No need, no need. The stove I just built is ready to be used. Master, please enjoy your meal. Chengen will take his leave first.” Wang Banxia understood propriety well. He cupped his hands in farewell, and as he left, even the pace of his cane became noticeably lighter.

And so it went for several days.

Every morning, Wang Banxia arrived punctually. With his impaired vision, Lu Liangsheng taught him the qi-observation method from the Emerald Heart Dream Nourishment, explaining it aloud. When it came to the more complex parts, he even had the Daoist sit across from him, guiding him hand by hand on how to distinguish facial lines, human qi, the flourishing of vital fire, and other such signs. The old man already had some foundation in these matters; many points he grasped immediately. What proved most difficult was still the deeper method of observing qi and perceiving the heart.

It was Lu Liangsheng’s first time teaching someone, and he lacked experience. He carved the qi-observation technique onto wooden slips and placed them in Wang Chengen’s hands, so he could feel them by touch and commit them to memory.

“On the path of cultivation, one must not be impatient. Practice more in the future, and that will suffice.”

“Yes. Chengen will remember this well.”

Leaving the small courtyard, Wang Banxia himself felt that his qi-observation skills had indeed improved considerably.

Amid his quiet sighs, the autumn sunset made people feel languid. After selling off the fish and shrimp from the pond, the villagers—young and old—gathered in the drying yard, chatting idly. The women at home patted the coins in their pouches, the clinking sound bright and cheerful, and happily took down a slab of meat hanging from the beam to put into the pot. The children watched eagerly, eyes fixed on the rising steam and the drifting aroma.

Along the village road, the passing merchant caravans gradually grew sparse. Upon the path winding through the yellowing stretches of Qixia Mountain, a beautiful woman approached, carrying a bundle and leading a child by the hand.

Looking ahead at the fading red leaves scattered along the roadside, and at the village nestled at the foot of the distant hills, the woman suddenly stopped. She pulled her son back a few steps.

On one of the hilltops, a glow of spiritual light flared to life.

A fierce wind suddenly rose along the road ahead. Sand, dust, and small stones were whipped into the air, rolling and surging as they howled past the mother and child.

Hiss—neigh!

A warhorse let out a long cry. A figure clad in armor, holding a halberd, sat astride it, halting in the road ahead. A battle flag bearing the character “Bai” snapped loudly in the wind.

Upon the horse, the general raised his halberd high and shouted:

“Wind!”

Whoosh—

Behind him stretched a vast, dark mass of soldiers, drawing their bows and aiming their arrows toward the sky.

On this side, the woman sensed the fluctuation of spiritual power. Suddenly, she pulled the child down to kneel, then heavily kowtowed toward the opposing army formation.

“This fox demon, Yanzhi, seeks an audience with Master Lu of Qixia Mountain!”