Chapter 187: Changjing Enters Autumn

In ancient times, the Mortal Dao was not prosperous, and demons, monsters, and ghosts were far more rampant than they are today. Even the gods were in chaos—there were great gods, minor gods, good gods, evil gods, and all manner of confusing deities.

Interestingly, while the Mortal Dao was not flourishing, human cultivators were much more formidable than they are now. There were often extraordinary masters in the world, either living in seclusion deep in the mountains or walking among the people, using various methods in their pursuit of the Dao and immortality.

It was a chaotic era.

Not only were the human dynasties in disarray, but so were the demons, monsters, and ghosts, as well as the gods on all sides. It seemed as if everything was waiting for time to settle and cool, bringing about a stable order to the world.

And indeed, that was how the Heavenly Dao evolved.

The peerless demons and monsters that once wreaked havoc on the human world and devoured entire cities of people on a whim, had now been reduced to nothing, not even leaving behind ashes. The primitive deities once revered by the ancient peoples had also vanished. A few remained as characters in ancient myths, but the majority could no longer even be found on stone carvings or tablets.

And what about those cultivators who sought the Immortal Dao and immortality back then?

According to the records of Hidden Dragon Temple, some did become immortals, and some achieved longevity, claiming to be undying and indestructible—but that was only at the time. When the Heavenly Dao shifted, those who claimed to be undying and indestructible still perished when the time came, and those who were supposed to be destroyed were still obliterated.

The will of the world governed the direction of its changes. No one could defy it.

Hidden Dragon Temple never recorded a clear understanding of the “thoughts” of the Heavenly Dao, but each generation of heirs, based on their own insights, cultivation, and focus, would sooner or later come to realize this truth.

Why had Hidden Dragon Temple endured through the ages?

Perhaps not seeking immortality wasn’t the key reason, but it was certainly a fundamental condition.

In those days, there were many ways to pursue immortality, each method as diverse as a blossoming garden. But now that the Heavenly Dao had made its choice, those paths had all become dead ends.

Was there anyone who survived from that time until now?

Maybe. Maybe not. The Daoist had never seen one.

Was there still another remaining path to immortality in the world?

Perhaps there were indeed a few paths that had never been discovered, routes that the ancients never utilized, and maybe Hidden Dragon Temple could find them. However, these paths were exceedingly difficult to pursue, and even if one were to seek success, there was no guarantee of longevity. Moreover, if just one generation of heirs were to tread this path, the legacy of Hidden Dragon Temple would end with them.

Hidden Dragon Temple had always been passed down through a single heir per generation. Not to mention the emotional ties, the very act of inheritance carried great weight, especially for those with virtue, which imposed significant constraints.

After being passed down through so many generations, each successive heir added even more weight to this legacy, making it increasingly difficult to decide to let it end with oneself.

The Daoist set aside his thoughts. No longer contemplating further, he smiled and simply sighed, “Immortality is hard to attain…”

“Do you wish to seek it, Immortal Master?”

“How many in the world don’t desire it?”

“Indeed…”

“Yet if immortality is too difficult to achieve and requires too much sacrifice, it might be better not to seek it at all. Just living well in this life is enough.” Song You chuckled. “It’s a mathematical problem.”

“You possess great cultivation, Daoist Master…”

The two of them drank tea and chatted, and she occasionally plucked the strings of the

qin

. The boat glided slowly across the water, slicing through the reflections of the green mountains on both banks.

The calico cat initially listened to their conversation. But later, perhaps out of boredom or fatigue from last night’s mouse hunting, she lay down on the Daoist’s lap and fell asleep, her tail the only thing still gently swaying.

The Daoist occasionally petted her back or stroked the tip of her tail, finding the cat to have a calming effect on him.

The woman across from him lowered her eyes and smiled, saying, “You treat her like a daughter.”

“Though Lady Calico is still young, she is clever and understanding, exceptionally bright; few mortal girls can compare to her.”

“Meeting you is indeed her fortune.”

“It is also my fortune.”

The woman glanced up at the Daoist, only to find his gaze fixated on the sleeping cat. Even his voice softened unconsciously, as if he feared waking her. The tenderness of this moment mirrored the emotions in his eyes, just as when she had come to request his presence and found him meticulously peeling shrimp for the cat in his home.

Unable to resist, she said, “I once had a younger sister who was clever and adorable.”

“And then?”

“Later, she grew up and left me.”

“Children growing up is an inevitable thing,” the Daoist replied calmly. “As long as she can do what she wants and live her own life, that is enough consolation.”

“I’ve heard that she became infatuated with the splendor of the human world, mingled in the cities, and eventually married a minor official as a concubine. Afterward, she lived poorly and died within a few years, living a lifespan comparable to a human’s.”

“Every being has its own fate, and that goes for demons as well.”

“What if your child grows up and wishes to marry?”

The woman looked toward the Daoist.

He placed his hand on the cat’s back, feeling her warmth beneath his palm, which was quite noticeable. The cat felt even slightly hot in the summer. He answered straightforwardly, “I hope she does not marry.”

“Why is that?”

The woman curiously regarded him, her eyes still focused. It was as if she were deeply interested in the conversation, placing great importance on his words.

“Because this era is plagued by afflictions—afflictions in the world, afflictions in the heart,” the Daoist replied calmly. “Between men and women, no matter how deep their feelings, these afflictions will be exposed over time. Very few can regard their wives and concubines as equals.”

“Oh?” The woman’s gaze flickered slightly, and she smiled as she asked, “So what do you think is most important between men and women?”

“Since you are a fox… I’ve heard that foxes are extremely loyal, monogamous, and do not have the hierarchies found among mortals. I imagine you should know this better than I.”

“Do you believe in monogamy as well, Daoist Master?”

“Naturally.”

“Your thoughts are unlike those of ordinary mortals in this world.”

“You have limited experience; many of today’s mortals think this way too—quite a few, in fact. It’s just that the world is vast, and you have not encountered them.”

“Let me toast to you with tea instead of wine.”

“Is your original name really Wanjiang?”

She said, “Foxes dwell in the mountains and fields, and when they do not come to the human world, no one will call them by their names, nor do they need names. It’s only upon arriving in the human world that one requires a name.”

The woman raised her cup and continued, “I’ve heard that this girl’s surname is Zhou. She was found floating down from a wooden tub in the evening. The one who named her gave her the surname ‘Zhou’ as it sounds like ‘boat’ in Chinese, since the wooden tub is a type of boat. She was given the name Wanjiang, which means ‘evening’ and ‘river’. After using her identity, I’ve grown fond of it and has gotten used to it.”

“Evening boats on the river, huh?”

“You’ve quite the poetic flair, Daoist Master.”

“I’m not well-versed in poetry.”

As they chatted, the cat woke up and then fell asleep again, scurrying to the edge of the boat to watch the water for a while before shaking its head and returning to talk to the Daoist, then chasing after the woman with a flurry of questions. This was how they spent most of the day.

In the afternoon, the boat docked.

“Thank you, Daoist Master. The conversations we had in my one day of travel with you surpass my seven years in Changjing.”

“You flatter me; it’s I who should thank you.” The Daoist returned the gesture. “Thank you for your generous invitation. The sounds of your

guqin

have attracted countless scholars in Changjing, who have long sought you but failed to obtain your company.”

The two of them took a carriage into the city, each returning home.

***

Inside the Hexian Pavilion, the woman appeared calm as she slowly walked back to her room. She stared at a painting of Mount Chang apricot blossoms hanging on the wall for a long time before sitting by the window, gazing out at the continuous rooftops.

A maid approached with light, graceful steps.

“Eh?” The maid exclaimed in surprise, “Didn’t you return this painting already? Why is it back?”

“I painted another one just like it.”

“You really have too much free time.”

“I can’t bear to part with it.”

“What are you thinking about? Do you want to roll around in the mud?”

“…”

“I brought you your ‘favorite’ pears; do you want to try some?”

“You eat them.”

“You eating is enough; I won’t touch them.”

“…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve taken a liking to that Daoist Master. Ordinary people can lie just as well as you, and although that Daoist Master is quite skilled, mortals only live a hundred years. If one doesn’t seek immortality, life is ultimately brief.”

“…”

The woman couldn’t be bothered to respond; she just turned her head to look out the window, her voice barely audible. “I have a premonition.”

“What premonition?”

“The State Preceptor and us… Our efforts may all end up being in vain.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come eat some pears.”

“…”

“

Nom nom nom

!”

“…”

After the summer heat, the weather turned cool. The leaves slowly turned yellow, covering the long streets.

The calico cat still went out every night to catch mice, sleeping and studying during the day, living a very regular life with a strict routine. Now, though, no one dared to lay a hand on her. There was even a time when the children of her employer would disturb her while she worked, but that was no longer the case.

She had a fixed job every night but still managed to sneak in some time to study, maintaining her naturally gifted cat persona.

The Daoist sometimes sat in the house welcoming guests, while other times he would stroll around, observing the various sights of Changjing. Life was quite leisurely.

When people had time on their hands, they would start to feel like divine immortals. Sometimes he would think about the scholar ghost he had invited to Fengzhou.

It had already been over two months, yet he still hadn’t returned. He wondered if he was doing well. Maybe he should go in person.

However, Fengzhou was too far away, and without the help of the jujube-red horse, traveling was difficult. Plus, if he went, he’d have to return to Changjing after just reaching Fengzhou. If he didn’t come back, he wouldn’t have stayed in Changjing even half the expected time, which was hard to arrange.

He could only wish for his well-being.

Meanwhile, in a residence in the Eastern District…

The renowned General Chen had become the Door God to ward off evil for the people of Great Yan in recent years. Everyone posted his likeness on their doors to ensure peaceful nights, preventing mischievous spirits from entering.

However, he himself had been sleeping poorly lately, just like at this moment… The general lay in bed, unarmored and without weapons, yet he still emanated an aura of ferocity that made it difficult for demons and ghosts to approach.

But he frowned deeply, sweat beading on his forehead. Even his hands, hidden beneath the blankets, were tightly clenched. His jaw was set tight, as if he were suffering from a nightmare.

“

Swish

!”

The general instantly opened his eyes, which were filled with a murderous intent. Yet before him was only darkness and silence, with nothing else in sight.

Gradually, the general calmed down but did not return to sleep. Instead, he propped himself up against the headboard and quietly contemplated. Though he didn’t experience such dreams every day, they had been occurring intermittently for quite some time.

Could someone be trying to harm him? But who would dare to target him in such a manner?

The general furrowed his brows. If only he were still in the north…

The military there housed many talented eccentrics. Although they might not be true masters, they were knowledgeable about various strange techniques and might offer some insights.

But this was not the north; this was Changjing. Changjing had its own challenges; even speaking was a challenge.

Gradually, the sky outside began to brighten. With a swift motion, the general threw off the covers, donned his clothes, and pushed open the door. His expression was serious and his spirit high.

“Prepare the gifts and horses!”

“Where to?”

“Western District!”

“Roger!”

His subordinates acted with swift efficiency.