Chapter Seventy-One: A Land of Perfect Peace

Though this malevolent spirit had not yet perished completely, it had already lost all ability to fight. I dragged it out of the house and made my way toward the Taoist priest. By now, the priest no longer looked at me with the scorn he’d shown earlier; his eyes were filled entirely with admiration.

“Give me a talisman,” I said, looking at him.

He seemed startled for a moment, but then quickly fished a talisman from his sleeve and handed it over. I lit it using the brazier nearby and tossed it at the ghostly figure.

Talismans are deadly to spirits, and with the fire’s aid, the effect was instantaneous—the ghost ignited at once, flames consuming it in less than thirty seconds. Soon, nothing remained of the evil spirit.

I shrugged, and turning to the astonished Taoist, I asked, “What is your name?”

He hurriedly pressed his palms together in a respectful gesture. “Elder, my name is Lu Tian,” he replied.

I nodded. “Cultivate well,” I said.

Little did I know, those four simple words would one day make Lu Tian a renowned Taoist master throughout the land—but that is a tale for another time.

The villagers’ attitudes toward me changed completely. Those who had mocked me moments ago now looked as though they wished they could slap themselves. In the next moment, everyone was vying to invite me to their homes for a meal. With much polite refusal, I finally managed to excuse myself and continued on my way to the address of my second great-uncle.

Once back in the car, the driver’s gaze had shifted again. At first, he’d thought I belonged to the national martial arts team; now, he seemed convinced I was a Taoist, bombarding me with questions. I glanced at Nangong Xi, who was lost in thought, but said nothing.

Time passed quickly. After another half hour’s drive, we finally arrived at the foot of Xuanfeng Mountain. I handed the fare to the driver, but he adamantly refused to accept it. After much back-and-forth, he finally relented and drove away.

I looked up at Xuanfeng Mountain. Its shape was unusual—seen from the side, it truly resembled a phoenix with outstretched wings. Just then, my phone rang. It was my second great-uncle.

“Boy, come up the little path to your left,” he instructed.

I replied with a brief acknowledgment and hung up. Glancing to the left, I saw a narrow path, wide enough for three people to walk side by side.

Taking Nangong Xi’s hand, I led her to the path and looked upward. This trail had likely come into being simply because so many people had walked it over time. Though it lacked embellishment, the environment was pristine and untouched.

Nangong Xi, not one to dawdle, followed me up the mountain. Along the way, we saw squirrels, hedgehogs, and even wild pheasants. These animals kept their distance, but watched us curiously from afar. Nangong Xi, being a young woman, was enchanted by these little creatures.

I noticed that at intervals along the trail, small wind chimes hung from the branches overhead. Whenever a breeze passed, the chimes would ring with a soft, melodious tinkling. As their number increased, the sound grew richer, but not at all loud or intrusive.

We climbed for over an hour. I managed well enough, but since Nangong Xi had lost her supernatural agility after regaining human form, she was now just an ordinary person. We had to rest frequently.

At last, after much slow progress, we reached the end of the path. It was not the mountain’s summit; that lay further above. Just as I was wondering where to go next, I sensed a surge of spiritual energy ahead.

Pushing aside the grass before me, I found something remarkable—a small courtyard built into the mountainside. It was less a courtyard than a hidden paradise. The grounds were spacious, with a pond full of tiny fish, a large water trough fed by a mountain spring, a stone table with four stone stools, and a small vegetable patch. The spiritual energy radiated from within the house itself.

I was certain this was my second great-uncle’s dwelling.

I entered first, helping Nangong Xi along, and we were both awed by the scene before us. Someone inside must have sensed the influx of spiritual energy, for soon enough, my great-uncle emerged. Today, he wore a plain gray robe, but his aura could not be concealed.

“You arrived quickly, have a seat,” he said, picking up a teapot and preparing a brew of floral tea.

Nangong Xi and I sat at the stone stools in the courtyard. He brought over the wooden teapot, his other hand holding his familiar pipe. After a few words of greeting between us, Nangong Xi asked, “Uncle, about the cultivation method you promised me…”

My great-uncle laughed heartily. “That’s exactly why I called you here,” he replied.

Hearing this, Nangong Xi broke into a joyful smile, and even I felt happy for her. I sipped the tea—it was only ordinary chrysanthemum, but with the special mountain spring water, the fragrance was brought out fully. It was delicious and refreshing.

My great-uncle took a puff on his pipe and continued, “This boy is always away from home, and it’s not safe for you to be alone, especially since the Dong family still bears a grudge. So you’ll stay here for a while. I’ve made all the preparations, so you can rest easy.”

This was indeed the best solution. With all the unfinished business I had—especially the King of Ghosts’ deadly game—it was impossible to know when I’d be called away again. Here, she would be safe and could receive guidance in her training. I nodded in agreement, and Nangong Xi naturally had no objections.

“And what about me, uncle? What do you need me for?” With Nangong Xi’s situation resolved, I was eager to ask about my own.

“Are you busy these days?” he asked.

“Not necessarily,” I replied, for who could predict what the Ghost King’s game would demand?

“Good. If you have no pressing matters, stay here as well. I can teach you more skills.”

Grateful, I thanked him. I truly needed to grow stronger. Most of my classmates from the Ghost King’s group had already entered the world of cultivation, and many of my enemies were formidable. I had no choice but to improve.

My great-uncle then led us to another house, which contained two rooms—just enough for Nangong Xi and me. The rooms were similarly furnished: two wooden chairs, a simple wooden table, and little else. The most striking feature was the traditional earthen kang bed, a rural specialty you’d never find in the city. Having slept on a mattress for so long, I knew this would feel hard and unfamiliar, but to me, it made little difference.

Nangong Xi, on the other hand, loved her room and the tranquil environment, saying she wished she could live here forever. I tidied up a bit to make the room less bare. Just as I finished and sat down, my great-uncle called me outside.