Chapter 60: A Ghost

Beneath the archway of the yamen.

Chen Dui chatted about all sorts of odd and interesting people and events, and the little girl from Zheng Yang Mountain listened with great interest, exclaiming, "Sister, you know so much."

Chen Dui smiled and said, "When you grow up, you'll know a lot too."

Song Jixin half-jokingly said, "When we're just hanging out, you seem like a pretty normal person."

The woman raised a delicate eyebrow, asking, "Are you saying that I should be all meek and groveling before Song Changjing, the regional king of Dali?"

Song Jixin laughed heartily, pointing at Chen Dui. "If our town's schoolteacher, Mr. Qi, heard you talking like that, he'd definitely frown. You know, that's called a false dilemma, it's illogical. It sounds reasonable at first, but it doesn't hold up to scrutiny. What I really mean is, you don't have to fawn over Song Changjing, and you shouldn't. But he's the biggest snake in Dali, and a top martial arts grandmaster, right? As an outsider, shouldn't you be a little polite to the owner of the house, when in Rome do as the Romans do? Why put on such a sour face and act like a big shot? And after putting on a show, you get beaten half to death by Song Changjing, and still dare to talk tough to his face. I really don't know what to say to you."

Finally, Song Jixin pointed at himself, self-deprecatingly adding, "Even someone as foul-mouthed and mean-spirited as me knows how to read the situation and act accordingly."

Chen Dui hesitated for a moment, then said, "It's like draws to like, I suppose, I'm also a martial artist, and to be honest, I've never thought much of the martial artists of your Eastern Treasure Continent. Of course, I was wrong in the end, very wrong."

Song Jixin was surprised and said, "You're honest enough."

Chen Dui said indifferently, "A martial artist only recognizes fists, what else is there?"

Song Jixin suddenly asked a pointed question, "You outsiders who come to town looking for treasures and opportunities, your logic seems different from ours. Is it because your fists are harder?"

Chen Dui shook his head and smiled. "I don't need to explain anything. Once you leave town, you'll quickly become like us. When you embark on the path of cultivation, you'll naturally understand. Otherwise, I could talk until I'm blue in the face, and you still wouldn't get it."

Song Jixin sighed and said, "Becoming like you guys, that sounds boring."

The little girl chimed in, "Then come play with us on Zheng Yang Mountain, it's so much fun."

Song Jixin patted her little head, saying casually, "Okay."

Chen Dui turned her head and looked over, feeling a sense of tension.

The king of Dali, in his white robe and jade belt, stood by the archway and said to Song Jixin, "Go back to Mud Jar Alley and pack up, get ready to leave."

Song Jixin smiled and said, "Alright, time to leave my hometown."

The little girl looked reluctant and asked, "Leaving your hometown, does that mean carrying a water well away from your hometown?"

Song Jixin laughed and got up, saying, "Let's go, I'll take you back to the Li family's house first, that's called seeing things through."

Song Jixin led the little girl towards the yamen gate, turning his head and asking, "There won't be any assassins on this Fortune and Prosperity Street, will there?"

Song Changjing smiled and said, "You'll have to ask your neighbors and friends about that."

Song Jixin curled his lips, glanced at the sky, and saw dark clouds gathering, looking like it was about to rain.

His mood suddenly turned foul.

After sending Tao Zi of Zheng Yang Mountain back, Song Jixin was surprised to find that Song Changjing was standing under that pagoda tree. He hurried over and asked curiously, "So eager to leave?"

Song Changjing nodded. "I received a message that there's something going on outside that needs to be dealt with personally. So, I came directly to Mud Jar Alley in a carriage. Once you've packed your things, we'll leave."

Song Jixin looked up and saw three carriages parked outside the yamen gate. This was probably the first time in the youth's life that he had ever ridden in a carriage.

Song Jixin bent down and sat in the front carriage, and Song Changjing followed closely behind, sitting cross-legged.

Song Jixin looked around. It was empty, with only a straw cushion under his bottom. It wasn't as luxurious and grand as he had imagined, and it didn't give him the amazing feeling of being in another world. This disappointed Song Jixin a bit, as he had been looking forward to seeing Zhi Gui's surprised expression when he boarded the carriage.

The dense sound of horses' hooves echoed crisply on the bluestone streets as the three carriages drove out of Fortune and Prosperity Street one after another.

Song Changjing lifted the curtain and looked out the window at the townscape. From now on, the Dali Dynasty would completely lose nominal control of this small paradise.

But when he thought about it the other way around, it was precisely because of the huge benefits brought by this small paradise that the Dali Dynasty had grown step by step from a small separatist force in a remote area to the largest secular dynasty in the northern Treasure Bottle Continent, bar none.

A small paradise of a thousand miles of rivers and mountains.

In the future, it would probably only be found in the secret history of the Dali Imperial Palace.

Song Changjing put away his thoughts and casually asked, "Aren't you going to say goodbye to that Chen Pingan?"

After driving out of Fortune and Prosperity Street, the road became bumpy, and Song Jixin's body began to sway gently with the carriage. He shook his head and said, "Whether that guy can survive is still up in the air. What if all that's left is a corpse? How disgusting would that be? Chen Pingan doesn't have a father or mother, and now his good friend is dead too. Doesn't that mean it's up to me, his neighbor, to take care of his affairs?"

Song Changjing hmmmed in agreement.

Song Jixin asked, "That little girl from Zheng Yang Mountain mentioned someone named Ma Kuxuan, from Apricot Blossom Lane, about my age. Apparently, he sold Chen Pingan and that girl's hiding place to Zheng Yang Mountain for a bag of offering money. Do you know what this guy's background is? I only heard that he was an idiot before, I didn't expect him to be hiding so well."

Song Changjing thought for a moment, "The assassin who infiltrated the Song family and assassinated the Grand Sui prince in Riding Dragon Lane had a few clues, one of which involved this young man named Ma Kuxuan. Over the years, that former criminal assassin had been in contact with Ma Kuxuan several times, possibly as master and disciple. Now that Zhenwu Mountain has intervened, we can only put it aside for the time being. After all, there are many Zhenwu disciples in the Dali army, and they hold high positions."

Song Jixin smiled and said, "Uncle, do you also have times when you have to say 'only'?"

Song Changjing didn't care and said, "Who told me to have such an unwieldy identity, this damned regional king of Dali."

As the carriage approached Mud Jar Alley, Song Jixin said intentionally or unintentionally, "Chen Pingan, is he really just Chen Pingan?"Song Changjing chuckled, "Before letting you move to Mud Bottle Alley, the yamen had already thoroughly investigated Chen Ping'an's ancestry for eighteen generations. The lineage is very clear, with no problems whatsoever. It's completely unrelated to wealth and power. What, is that 'Chen' scaring you? Rest assured, this Prince has a rough idea of her identity. That branch of the Chen family has no ancestral ties to the Chen family in this small town. So, relax, Chen Ping'an is just Chen Ping'an. The closest relatives, barely, are the Chen family of Dragon Tail County, where Chen Songfeng is. But think about it, are relatives who haven't been in contact for centuries really relatives? Besides, the Chen family in this small town has declined to the point where only one person isn't a servant. Poor in the bustling city, no one asks; rich in the deep mountains, distant relatives come calling. You've read some books, don't you understand this principle?"

Song Jixin was still unconvinced, "What about the eighteen generations before the eighteen generations? Hasn't there been a dazzling, outstanding figure? Not even one?"

Song Changjing laughed, "So you're hoping Chen Ping'an has a special background?"

Song Jixin didn't hide his thoughts and nodded, "If he's different from ordinary people, I'll feel better."

Song Changjing became more curious, teasing, "What exactly did that guy do to bully you, to make you so fixated? But according to my understanding of that boy, he doesn't seem like someone who would..."

Song Jixin sneered, interrupting the Grand Li Prince's words, "People from small places might not have high horizons, and their eyes might be shallow, but you absolutely can't think they're stupid. Good can be as good as a child's heart, pure and kind; bad can be as bad as festering sores on the head and pus flowing from the soles of the feet. And some people are just hopelessly stupid, or even stupid and bad."

Song Changjing was even more puzzled, "Which category does Chen Ping'an belong to?"

Song Jixin sighed, frustrated, "He doesn't belong to any of them. He's really a fool, that's why I feel so particularly stifled."

Ning Yao squatted in front of the long bench, carefully examining Chen Ping'an's sleeping face, her heart filled with shock.

Such divine power, wondrous beyond words.

Chen Ping'an's strange sleeping posture emanated a sense of returning to simplicity and authenticity, from head to toe.

Although Ning Yao couldn't explain it clearly, the young woman possessed an extremely keen intuition for the quality of a divine power or technique.

Ning Yao turned her head and asked curiously, "Are you Chen Ping'an's guide on the path of cultivation?"

The old man smacked his lips and puffed on his pipe, crossed his legs, and looked out at the dim rainy scene outside the house, laughing, "Cultivation? You call this cultivation? What, has another fellow qualified to establish a sect and become an ancestor appeared in the world? Is that why the world is going downhill, and the scenery on the path of cultivation is getting worse year by year? It can't be, those few aren't pushovers. Since they've already become gluttons, they can only continue down this path of no return, and won't allow outsiders to share a piece of the pie."

Ning Yao was bewildered, "Senior Yang, what are you talking about?"

The old man was stunned, "Didn't your elders tell you about the old grudges of those old fossils?"

Ning Yao shook her head, "My grandfather's generation passed away early, and my parents don't like to talk about stories from the other continents, afraid I'll run away from home."

Old Man Yang turned his head to look, carefully examining the young woman, finally uttering a sentence, "How many words are engraved on that city wall now?"

Ning Yao honestly replied, "My grandfather's generation produced many heroic figures, so two new words were engraved within a short hundred years. Now there are eighteen words in total."

The old man sighed, "Eighteen words already. After 'Daoist Law,' 'Righteousness,' and 'Western Paradise,' what else has been added?"

Ning Yao said in a deep voice, "The four words 'Thunder Pool Forbidden Ground,' the four words 'Sword Qi Endures,' 'Qi,' 'Chen,' 'Dong.'"

Old Man Yang frowned and asked, "Little girl, are you missing a word?"

Ning Yao said irritably, "I forgot!"

The old man didn't press the issue, changing the question, "Is it still the old rule, only qualified to carve a word on the Great Wall after killing a flying realm demon?"

Ning Yao frowned, "Why do you know so much about the situation in my hometown?"

The old man laughed, "A long time ago, there was a foreign sword cultivator who had a habit of writing travelogues. He wrote down all the local customs and conditions along the way, and finally died near our small town. I took that thick travelogue back and flipped through it when I had nothing to do."

Ning Yao doubted the truth of this statement.

The old man seemed to have eyes on the back of his head, "Believe it or not, it's up to you."

Ning Yao observed Chen Ping'an's state, which was somewhat like a Taoist's sitting in oblivion or a Buddhist's meditation. She asked, "What's wrong with him?"

Old Man Yang slowly said, "Little death."

Sleep is called little death.

Ning Yao was a little helpless. The old man from Yang's shop spoke either harshly or strangely.

The old man muttered to himself, "Little girl, I ask you, when a person silently recites in their heart, whose voice is the so-called voice of the heart?"

Ning Yao was stunned, falling into deep thought.

Soon, she naturally closed her eyes and concentrated her mind. After a while, she became drowsy, and finally, she suddenly nodded, falling into a deep sleep.

Old Man Yang stood up, went around the young woman, came to the young man, and pointed at Ning Yao with his pipe, saying to the young man, "Look at her, a few words of guidance, and she can break through in one fell swoop. Look at you, you don't have any real skills, but you like to be stubborn. Who are you being stubborn with? How many years has the old god dozed off? Why would he bother with a guy like you?"

Old Man Yang returned to his original seat, looking at the increasingly heavy rain outside the house. The rapid raindrops beat against the courtyard ground, crackling and rattling. The old man's expression was a little sad, "So many years have passed, picking and choosing, looking for so many people, unexpectedly, the one I had the least hope for has the toughest fate."

A thin and scrawny child, carrying a large basket of wild vegetables on his back, with seven or eight small fish strung on dogtail grass in his hand, walked into an alley. After the child opened the door to his own yard and just walked in, the little young master next door, wearing silk clothes, immediately stepped on a stool, then skillfully climbed onto the not-so-high courtyard wall, squatted there, completely disregarding the fact that his expensive clothes were getting dirty, and laughed, "Hey, Chen, are you going up the mountains and down the rivers to forage for food again? Your ability to live off the mountains and rivers is really not small. Can you take me to play with you in the future? I'll reward you with copper coins, okay?"

The scrawny child smiled, "No need to give money."

The little young master with a rich and noble air curled his lips, "If you don't want it, then forget it. I don't even want to go."The children plucked the small fish, one by one, from the foxtail grass. The larger ones were the length of a palm, the smaller no bigger than a thumb. The children, standing on tiptoes, placed them on their window sills to dry in the sun. Once dried, they could be eaten without salt, without even gutting them. Not because the children were lazy, but because if they did, there would be barely any meat left. As it was, they were crunchy and fragrant when eaten.

The young master on the courtyard wall regretted his words as soon as he spoke them. The truth was, he envied his neighbor, who was the same age. He never came home empty-handed – a wild rabbit, loach, stream fish, wild fruit, always something. It wasn’t greed, just envy. But his pride wouldn’t let him take back his words, and seeing Chen Ping'an, carefree and lighthearted, made him feel even more sullen.

“You, Chen Ping'an, are so poor you can barely keep a roof over your head, sleeping in a leaky shack, never even tasting a candied hawthorn. What are you so happy about?”

The young master on the wall, named Song Jixin, couldn't understand it at all.

One day, the child who had no worries about food or clothing but lived in the impoverished Mud Bottle Lane, returned home bruised and covered in dirt.

The girl who had just become his personal maid asked him what had happened. Song Jixin refused to say, went to his room, closed the door, and lay on his bed.

He had argued and even fought with someone that day. The venomous words echoed in his ears, cutting at the prideful child like a knife. His face alternated between sorrow and rage.

"You just have a little stinky money! What are you so proud of? You're not even as good as Chen Ping'an. At least he knows who his parents were, even if they're dead. Do you even know who your parents are?"

The child, Song, tossed and turned on his bed, unable to sleep.

The next day, instead of squatting on the wall to chat with his neighbor, the child did something unprecedented. He went to Chen Ping'an's house.

He said one thing to Chen Ping'an, and soon after, Chen Ping'an left the town, breaking the vow he made to his mother when she passed away. At a young age, he became an apprentice at the Dragon Kiln.

A shadowy figure stood suspiciously by the back door of the shop’s main hall. Old Man Yang noticed him but said nothing, simply turning away, as if the figure were an eyesore.

The figure seemed hurt by the old man’s actions.

Even more hurtful was the woman he should call 'sister-in-law,' who, with one hand holding an umbrella, violently pushed his head aside and strode towards the main house in the backyard. Seeing the old man, she immediately prepared to shout.

Old Man Yang sighed, quickly got up, left the house, closed the door, and stood on the steps, watching the woman who had adopted an accusatory stance. The old man even lost his appetite for smoking his pipe.

The woman stopped and, with one hand on her hip, scolded, "What are you doing? Guarding against thieves?! Old Man Yang, you're at least my husband's master, how can you do such rotten things? Li Er was doing a good job as a shop assistant, why did you fire him? Is this Yang family shop yours? Huh? Did Li Er sleep with his master's wife or his master's daughter?!"

The man, who had been cornered on the street and forced to return, hunched his shoulders and hid behind the back door, wishing he could dig a hole and bury himself.

He knew his master’s temperament and his wife’s nature. He knew he would suffer, at the very least some form of skinning.

Old Man Yang was expressionless. "Are you done? If you're done, go home and howl at the moon. I heard the catcalls from the west side of town haven't stopped all year round, day and night. People have been so disturbed they've moved away…"

The woman seemed to have been hit where it hurt, and her voice rose even higher. "Old, good-for-nothing thing, how dare you tell me to go home! Your apprentice has lost his livelihood and spends all day wandering around. The other day, our roof collapsed, and we couldn't even afford to repair it, forcing me to go back to my parents' house with gold and silver, suffering endless humiliation! If Li Er hadn't been kicked out of your shop, would our family of four be in such a miserable state? Old Man Yang, hurry up and take out your burial money to repair our house, or I'm not done with you today!"

The old man's gaze turned coldly towards the man hiding. It was Zheng Dafeng.

Zheng Dafeng said with a mournful face, "Master, Li Er went to do that thing you told him to do, he definitely won't be back anytime soon."

The old man's face darkened.

Zheng Dafeng felt like kneeling down and kowtowing.

The woman dropped her oil-paper umbrella and sat down on the rainy ground, wailing, "Old, good-for-nothing thing, you like to defile the family line, not even letting your apprentice's wife go!"

The old man brought a small stool from under the eaves and slowly sat down. He took out some tobacco from the pouch at his waist, crumbled it into the pipe, and began to smoke, looking up at the sky, completely ignoring the woman.

Zheng Dafeng watched the woman throwing a tantrum in the courtyard. It was raining so hard, and the woman was well-built and voluptuous, her clothes thin, so that many workers from the Yang family shop came to join the fun, secretly enjoying the sight.

The woman was crying heart-wrenchingly, but suddenly stopped, as if someone had choked her. After rubbing her eyes, she quickly got up, picked up the oil-paper umbrella, and ran away.

The woman shouted as she ran, "There's a ghost!"

The old man twitched his lips and said, "A rat turd on the incense altar, hated by gods and men."