Chapter 1

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This is one of my favorite cultivation novels — I simply love it. I’m not the type to talk much, so I won’t over-explain. But if you enjoy stories with solid development, that explore themes like morality, ethics, good and evil, and protagonists who aren’t hypocrites and actually use their brains, along with a deeper, more mysterious plot, then even though I can’t promise you’ll love this as much as I do, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. The beginning is a bit slow, but don’t worry — there’s barely any pointless filler in this novel!

First-time translator here, so if you have any suggestions to improve the translation, feel free to leave a comment!

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Chapter 1: Ghost Messengers

Linshan Town sits on the border of the Pu Kingdom, adjacent to the towering Wanheng Mountain Range that pierces the clouds. It’s precisely this vast mountain range, sparsely populated and teeming with wild beasts, that separates the northern and southern kingdoms, and also divides the extreme weather patterns of winter and summer.

Linshan Town was built south of the mountain range, where it remains warm as spring year-round.

There’s no winter here, only morning mist that rises from the mountains every few days, as if the endless mountain range houses longed-for immortals.

In the early morning, the small path outside town is covered with dew, and chattering birds perch on treetops, singing incessantly. Even when human figures appear at the end of the path, nothing can interrupt their enthusiasm for singing their morning songs.

In the morning light, a young Taoist walks from the distance carrying a shoulder pole, with two buckets of clear water hanging from each end. The young Taoist has an honest appearance with rather delicate features, looking about fourteen or fifteen years old.

The water buckets are too full. Despite the young Taoist’s steady steps, the full buckets still spill some water due to the bumpy mountain road. Clear droplets fall onto the path behind him, refracting colorful rays in the morning sun.

The peaceful morning, the deserted mountain road—it’s like a tranquil and far-reaching painting. At the end of this painting stands a Taoist temple called “Riding Clouds” on the edge of the small town.

“Young Taoist, carrying such full buckets every day, aren’t you tired?”

A farmer who rises early to chop wood outside town says with a smile. The young Taoist smiles and shakes his head—not tired.

“Young Taoist, you’ve spilled water all along the way. By the time you carry it to the temple, only half will remain. Aren’t you tired?”

The old woman selling breakfast on the street offers kind advice. She can’t remember how many years she’s been saying this, yet the young Taoist still smiles and shakes his head—not tired.

“Young Taoist, this street gets watered by you every day. Haven’t you noticed this street is cleaner than the elegant chambers of our Mingcui Tower?”

From Mingcui Tower, a young maid who rises earlier than her master leans against the window. Watching the foolish young Taoist carry water might be the only entertainment for servants like them. The young Taoist still smiles and shakes his head—haven’t noticed.

“Carrying full buckets instead of half-full ones—even someone like me who’s never carried water knows this. Xu Yan, are you a pig?”

The second son of the Zhang household holds a large bowl of red meat and rice, sitting at the doorway eating and laughing. His fat body fills the doorframe completely. The young Taoist called Xu Yan still smiles, but this time he doesn’t shake his head—instead, he nods.

‘Yes, we’re all pigs…’

Riding Clouds Temple isn’t large, housing only two Taoists, one old and one young. There aren’t many worshippers, and most only come to pray for blessings without making donations. Fortunately, during festivals, some well-off families leave a few copper coins, allowing the two Taoists to fill their stomachs.

Just barely fill their stomachs.

The young Taoist carrying clear water returns to Riding Clouds Temple, following the small path beside the main hall to reach the vegetable garden opened up in the backyard.

The garden is lush green, and seeing the tender vegetable shoots poking their heads out, Xu Yan feels delighted. He prepares to pour the two buckets of clear water he just carried into the large vat, but unexpectedly, the bottom of the water bucket is slippery. Unable to hold it steady, the bucket tips to one side.

Splash!

Without thinking, Xu Yan uses skillful force to fling the bucket of clear water that was about to spill outside the vat toward the vegetable plot. Though it doesn’t spread evenly, at least the bucket of water isn’t wasted.

Snort, snort.

About half of the bucket of clear water splashes into the vegetable plot, but more of it splashes into the pigpen beside the garden. The little black pig in the pen gets drenched but isn’t annoyed at all. Instead, it snorts happily, as if this cool shower is quite refreshing.

“Snort, snort!”

The young Taoist squats outside the pigpen, making the same sounds as the little black pig, learning pig calls while laughing foolishly.

The poor temple can’t afford to buy pigs. This little black pig isn’t actually a domestic pig, but a wild piglet that Xu Yan found in the mountains when he was about ten years old. He brought it back to the temple and raised it as a domestic pig. After four or five years of raising, the wild pig has indeed become like a domestic pig, even given the name Little Black. However, no matter how it’s fed, this wild pig never grows large, weighing no more than ten pounds after all these years.

“Xu Yan, is this how you water plants?”

The elderly Taoist comes around from one side. Seeing the other bucket still more than half full and the young Taoist conversing with the pig beside the pen, he shakes his head: “Such a clever child, but instead of learning something good, you insist on learning from pigs. Aren’t you tired?”

“Not tired, Master. Spilling just a few pounds of water is like sweeping the street,” the young Taoist says earnestly. “Didn’t you say that pigs live more carefree than people? Because they have no brains, they’re happy every day. Even when the butcher’s knife approaches, they still eat sweetly and sleep soundly.”

“But you have a brain,” the old Taoist says with mild anger.

“I’m trying to hide my brain,” the young Taoist answers with a grin.

“Pigs will eventually grow fat and are destined to be slaughtered by butchers,” the old Taoist’s voice gradually becomes calm.

“People also die of old age, illness, starvation, and anger, and in the end, they’re still taken by the underworld,” Xu Yan says, patting the little black pig’s head through the fence. “Besides, we won’t eat Little Black.”

In Xu Yan’s view, the fates of humans and pigs aren’t much different. The only difference is that pigs have no worries, while humans have many troubles.

“Foolish child! When did I tell you to learn the pig’s foolishness when I taught you to learn the pig’s carefree nature?”

The old Taoist angrily picks up the shoulder pole as if to strike, but the young Taoist has already run away laughing.

Throwing down the pole, the old Taoist watches the young Taoist’s retreating figure. A trace of bitterness appears in his cloudy eyes as he shakes his head and mutters to himself: “Those unclean things that others can’t see, but you can see them. Poor child…”

Having depended on each other for more than ten years, the old Taoist naturally knows why Xu Yan is close to the little black pig in the pen, and why Xu Yan always acts as foolish as a pig. It’s because only that little black pig can still eat every bit of slop from its trough clean in front of those unclean things, and can still sleep soundly in front of those unclean things…

Animals’ keen senses are much stronger than humans’.

Things that ordinary people can’t see, animals can clearly perceive. Except for the little black pig, all other poultry, insects, and birds choose to avoid when those black shadows that don’t belong to the world of the living appear.

The elderly Taoist begins coughing and doesn’t stop for a long while. He smiles bitterly, scoops up a ladle of clear water, and sprinkles it toward the vegetable garden.

The tender vegetable shoots are lush green, looking full of vitality.

A clumsy beetle clings to a green leaf, remaining motionless even when drenched by the clear water, so stupid it’s contemptible. Even when small ants crawl up and down its body, it remains unmoved. Only when a particularly large, imposing ant prepares to pass by the leaf where the beetle sits does the clumsy beetle finally open its pincer-like mouth and bite the large ant firmly.

The old Taoist watches the beetle’s hunting process clearly. The old man coughs twice and laughs freely: “Being a pig isn’t bad either. Some pigs are destined to eat tigers…”

The old Taoist is named Xu Daoyuan. Xu Yan is an orphan he found fifteen years ago. When he found that baby, the child surprisingly didn’t cry or fuss, but just babbled as if saying something, so he named him Xu Yan.

Xu Daoyuan’s body is very weak, plagued by old ailments. The calluses on his fingertips, which only form from years of wielding a sword, indicate that this elderly Taoist is no ordinary man. Over the past ten years, although Xu Daoyuan has never displayed any martial arts skills, under his guidance, Xu Yan has mastered exquisite stone-throwing techniques.

The stones Xu Yan throws are comparable to arrows that hit targets a hundred paces away.

The temple’s surrounding wall isn’t high. At this moment, several children climb onto the wall and shout: “Xu Yan, let’s go hunt wild game! The wild rabbits on Old Grave Mountain must be fat by now!”

Those climbing the wall are all children from poor families in Linshan Town. Their families can’t afford meat more than a few times a year, so hunting wild game has become the only pleasure for these poor children. If they can catch some rabbits or pheasants, it’s enough for these young boys to improve their meal. Of course, some children from well-off families also like to join the fun and go into the mountains together.

“Good!”

Xu Yan responds, goes back to his room to get a small shovel, casually stuffs a large flatbread from the stove into his chest, then runs out of Riding Clouds Temple, but now there’s a red string around his wrist.

When the children waiting outside see Xu Yan come out, they’re all very happy. With a shout, they run toward the outskirts of town in a mighty procession, because as long as Xu Yan is with them, they’re sure to have a good harvest this time.

In Linshan Town, besides Xu Yan, no one else knows the skill of throwing stones to hit rabbits.

For children from poor families, hunting wild game in the mountains is just incidental. Their main task is still chopping firewood. Don’t underestimate them—each child has hemp rope tied around their waist, and several children carry worn-out wood-cutting knives. Even if they can’t catch wild rabbits, they’ll gather enough firewood for a bundle.

The other children have already run far ahead. Xu Yan’s pace gradually slows down and finally stops dozens of paces away from Riding Clouds Temple.

The sun has risen high, the blue sky is cloudless, and it looks like another sunny day. However, a trace of gloom inexplicably flashes across Xu Yan’s young face.

Taking a deep breath, as if making a difficult decision, Xu Yan slowly turns his head to look at the temple’s entrance. His rather delicate eyebrows furrow tightly, then he exerts force with his feet and chases after those children, running out of Linshan Town.

At fifteen years old, it’s precisely the time when young people are innocent and carefree. No one at this age knows how to restrain their true nature. A strange youth like Xu Yan, who appears foolish as a pig to outsiders but is extremely intelligent in the old Taoist’s eyes, cannot be found anywhere else in the world.

No one wants to pretend to be a pig, especially for six or seven years.

Besides the old Taoist, no one else knows Xu Yan’s difficulties, because only when Xu Yan truly believes he’s a pig can he ignore those strange and eerie scenes that others can’t see.

Xu Yan has been able to see some peculiar things since childhood.

For example, spirits leaping in the mountain forests, strange birds flying under dark clouds, women floating in the cold wind after heavy snow, and… ghosts!

When Xu Yan stops and looks back outside the temple, while others see nothing but an empty gate, in Xu Yan’s eyes, two shadows appear on both sides of the gate—tall hats and paper clothes, one black and one white. Although he can’t see the faces of these two shadows clearly, Xu Yan can determine their identities.

Ghost messengers, Black and White Impermanence!

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Taoist Temple (道观 – Daoguan)

A Taoist temple is a place of worship and residence for Taoist priests in Chinese religion and philosophy. Taoism emphasizes living in harmony with the Tao (the Way), which is the fundamental principle underlying all existence. Taoist temples often serve as centers for meditation, ritual practices, and community gatherings.

Shoulder Pole (扁担 – Biandan)

A traditional Chinese carrying tool consisting of a flexible wooden or bamboo pole carried across the shoulders, with loads suspended from each end. This method of carrying heavy items has been used in China for thousands of years and remains common in rural areas.

Black and White Impermanence (黑白无常 – Heibai Wuchang)

In Chinese folk religion and mythology, Black and White Impermanence are two ghost messengers who serve the underworld. They are responsible for escorting souls of the deceased to the afterlife. White Impermanence (白无常) is typically depicted as tall and thin with a white face, while Black Impermanance (黑无常) is shorter with a dark face. They are often portrayed wearing traditional Chinese official robes and tall hats with inscriptions.