Chapter 25: In Ping'an Town

Chapter 25: In Ping'an Town

"Senior Brother Zhao, heading down the mountain again!"

"Oh? Isn't that Junior Brother Qingyun? What brings you down the mountain too!"

At the mountain gate, the mismatched pair of Qingfeng and Mingyue — one stout, one lean — called out a respectful greeting to Senior Brother Zhao. When they recognized the vaguely familiar Li Qingyun, they couldn't help but stare in surprise.

They were surprised not only that Li Qingyun had earned Zhao Yifan's favor, but also that in just a few short days, Junior Brother Qingyun seemed like a completely different person — gone was that pallid, wasted look of a man who had indulged himself to ruin.

The afternoon sunlight poured down from above the towering mountain gate, casting the young man in a warm glow. He stood tall and straight as a spring sapling, his features fine as jade, radiating an effortless elegance and vitality utterly unlike the frail figure they had first met.

"Greetings, Senior Brothers!"

Li Qingyun smiled and nodded to Qingfeng and Mingyue, then fell into step behind Zhao Yifan — who was carrying himself with a somewhat affected air of dignity — and the two descended the stone steps at a brisk, wind-swift pace.

He got the sense that Qingfeng and Mingyue didn't hold much standing within the temple. Elite disciples like Lin Wanjin and Zhao Yifan seemed to regard them with barely concealed indifference.

The stone steps wound downward, white mist rolling in from the mountain slopes on either side.

From behind, the low murmur of Qingfeng and Mingyue's conversation drifted forward:

"He really is a young lord from the Marquis of Qinghe's Manor — money, connections, the whole package. When he first came up the mountain he looked completely hollowed out, and yet in the blink of an eye he's already cozied up to Senior Brother Zhao, gotten his hands on spiritual medicines, and patched up all that lost vitality!"

"When I first saw Junior Brother Qingyun, I noticed that big bundle he carried up the mountain. I gave it a discreet lift — heavy as a stone. As long as you have money, life on the back mountain is far more comfortable than anything in the secular world!"

"Heh, but going down the mountain to exorcise demons and suppress ghosts is no pleasure trip. Let's hope Junior Brother Qingyun makes it back alive."

"Still, our job — standing guard at the mountain gate, greeting arrivals and seeing off departures with a smile — is a whole lot easier!"

"……"

Li Qingyun's ears twitched slightly. Though he had already put some distance between himself and the mountain gate, he heard every word with perfect clarity.

When he had first come up the mountain, the state of his body must have looked truly wretched to the other disciples.

But that was then. In just a few short days, he had already cultivated Dharma Power, and his vitality and blood and qi had nearly fully recovered.

The mountain mist hung soft and hazy around them. As they walked, Zhao Yifan offered some well-meaning advice.

"Once we're down the mountain, we'll rent two fast horses at Ping'an Town at the foot of the mountain. It should take about a day or two to reach Yinshan Town."

"Understood. Senior Brother has thought of everything."

Li Qingyun raised no objection to Zhao Yifan's suggestion.

Disciples with shallow cultivation who ventured down the mountain for travel or missions almost universally relied on horses and carriages for transport. Soaring through the sky or flying on magical artifacts might look dashing and swift, but without sufficient cultivation it simply wasn't feasible.

With meager Dharma Power, even if one had mastered a flight technique, one would be exhausted after only a short while in the air — and the flight speed of a low-level cultivator was barely faster than a horse anyway.

The two moved quickly, and before long they had descended the stone steps and the mountain path.

Zhao Yifan's expression grew increasingly satisfied. Along the way, he had deliberately tested Li Qingyun's pace, accelerating repeatedly — and Li Qingyun had matched him steadily every time.

Maple Mountain was vast. Two winding paths led up the mountain: one reserved for horse-drawn carriages, the other for pilgrims and travelers on foot.

At this hour, many pilgrims who had finished their worship at Lingbao Temple were making their way back down — men and women, young and old, peddlers and porters, noble ladies and young lords alike, all streaming down in a lively, bustling crowd.

Lingbao Temple was the largest Daoist temple in the surrounding area, its incense fires burning strong. Every day, countless common folk and villagers climbed the mountain to pay their respects, seeking Dao talismans and pills, requesting demon exorcisms and ghost suppressions, or praying for children.

In this world, if ordinary people wanted to live a little longer, keeping House-Ward Talismans and Evil-Warding Talismans at home was an absolute necessity. The traces of Daoist arts and transcendent power were woven densely throughout the mortal world.

At the foot of the mountain lay a rather prosperous town called Ping'an Town.

Over ten thousand people made their permanent home there. Vast fields of grain had been cultivated beyond the town's outskirts, and a constant flow of travelers passed through from all directions — every trade and craft flourishing in abundance.

Many of Lingbao Temple's stewards and elite disciples had established holdings in Ping'an Town: grand residences, shops, and some had even taken several wives and concubines, putting down roots and raising families with children and grandchildren filling their halls.

The temple's upper echelons placed great importance on Ping'an Town's peace and stability. Steward-level experts led disciples in maintaining a permanent garrison there, keeping order and protecting the townspeople.

The Ghostly Realm of You's imperial court had never stationed officials in Ping'an Town. The settlement had essentially formed on its own, and naturally fell under Lingbao Temple's administration — the court neither would nor dared to interfere.

When Li Qingyun and Zhao Yifan appeared on the streets of Ping'an Town in their Daoist robes, the townspeople greeted them with respectful bows and salutations. The bolder residents even warmly invited them in for tea or wine.

The town was lively and well-appointed. Taverns, teahouses, talisman shops, idol shops, weapon stalls, apothecaries, inns, and horse-and-carriage agencies were all neatly distributed throughout, their chatter and hawking calls rising and falling in a cheerful chorus. The faces of the townspeople carried a certain calm contentment — something Li Qingyun had rarely seen back in Qinghe County.

Compared to Qinghe County's seat, however, Ping'an Town had no High-class Brothels or pleasure boats, which left the traveling merchants passing through feeling somewhat disappointed.

Li Qingyun also noticed that the residences and shops throughout the town — their doors, windows, and courtyard walls — were all plastered with freshly applied talismans to ward off ghosts and evil, giving the whole place a richly characteristic flavor of this world's folk customs.

There were three horse-and-carriage agencies in town. The one Zhao Yifan headed to was sizable, and had even placed a few exotic-blooded beast-horses out front as a display to attract customers.

The agency, named "Junye Hongkai," was run by one of Lingbao Temple's elite disciples.

Zhao Yifan appeared to be on quite good terms with the owner.

He went inside and chatted with the middle-aged elite disciple for a while — the two of them laughing and bantering, exchanging pleasantries with practiced ease.

There was a marked difference in the demeanor of Lingbao Temple disciples on the mountain versus off it. The Zhao Yifan who had come down the mountain had clearly shed some of his "transcendent Daoist bearing" and picked up a good deal more worldly savvy.

A short while later, Zhao Yifan emerged with a smile, leading two rather fine-looking yellow-maned horses.

Li Qingyun had not followed him into "Junye Hongkai." Instead, he had been browsing the shops lining the street across from the agency.

The sunlight was soft and gentle, the atmosphere peaceful and unhurried. He savored the rare, warm vitality of small-town life.

The scene stirred something in him, and he found himself thinking back to his days living in Qingshui County — with a faint, unexpected sense of nostalgia.

"How much for this bronze sword?"

"Fifty taels. Oh — a distinguished master from Lingbao Temple? Forty taels then, and not a copper less! I nearly got bitten by a zongzi getting my hands on it!"

"Too expensive…"

At a wandering martial artist's roadside stall, Li Qingyun stumbled upon a pleasant little surprise.

After some haggling, he paid twenty taels of silver and walked away with a short bronze sword whose hilt had taken on a dull, aged patina, bearing two or three ancient inscribed curse-characters.

The bronze sword looked worn and old, spotted with rust, and carried the cold, eerie aura of something freshly unearthed from an ancient tomb.

He had initially been drawn to it by those three inscribed characters. But after picking it up and examining it, he sensed something through his Dharma Power — beneath the cold, sinister aura, there was a faint but unmistakable thread of yang intent, subtly resonating with his Treasure Furnace Qi Absorption Art's Dharma Power.

This meant the sword could hold some of his Dharma Power — it was no ordinary object.

The material used to forge it must have been something special, likely alloyed with a measure of unusual spirit-iron.

The wandering martial artist, seeing that he was a Lingbao Temple disciple, dared not deceive him and spoke plainly: a few days prior, he and some companions had gone to explore an ancient tomb from a previous dynasty belonging to a noble family. They had deliberately broken into the tomb in broad daylight, bombarded it with fire and talisman paper, and finally ground down three undead corpses before retrieving the more valuable old objects from inside.

"This sword of yours is actually quite good."

Li Qingyun took the ancient bronze sword in hand, smiled faintly, and suddenly snapped his finger against the blade. The rust-spotted sword immediately let out a deep, resonant hum like a muffled thunderclap.

Swept clean by the thunder intent of his Dharma Power, the cold and sinister aura clinging to the sword's blade was completely dispersed.

The ancient sword seemed as though it had just been freshly honed — a new sharpness and vitality now radiated from it.