Chapter Fifty-Eight: An Unexpected Encounter with Yu Shu

After Jiang Pingchuan left, the old scholar turned around, gazing at his retreating figure with a chuckle, his broom still sweeping ceaselessly across the ground. Oddly, the broom’s bristles were shimmering with faint blue light; each time it touched the earth, wisps of dust would rise, and under the old scholar’s hand, the otherwise spotless ground looked especially dirty and disordered.

Back at the Zhou family noodle shop, Xiao Wu had already set out a table full of dishes in the main hall. Today, they were holding a farewell banquet for Jiang Pingchuan, and many guests had gathered. The magistrate was deep in conversation with Zhou Fu, who kept smiling bashfully, while Madam Zhou and several helpers were busy in the kitchen.

Most of today’s dishes were prepared by the head chef of Emerald Phoenix Pavilion. Jiang Pingchuan was a renowned figure in Sanjiang County—benefactor and son-in-law to the whole region. As he was about to depart, every notable person had come to see him off.

“Pingchuan, you’re back!” Xiao Wu set down a dish, then spotted Jiang Pingchuan at the entrance and called toward the kitchen. All conversation ceased as every eye turned to him.

Jiang Pingchuan smiled slightly. The Zhou family noodle shop in Sanjiang County was like home to him. Here were many cherished memories, and a few he’d rather forget. His first visit had been his most embarrassing; back then, Brother Xiao Wu had scolded him for being a freeloader, leaving him mortified.

“Pingchuan, come here a moment,” Zhou Fu beckoned. Jiang Pingchuan nodded and walked over.

“Father-in-law, Magistrate, what do you need of me?” he asked, facing Zhou Fu and the magistrate.

“You’re journeying far to the royal capital,” the magistrate said with a warm laugh. “Your father-in-law and I discussed it and have prepared five hundred jade coins for your journey.”

Though the magistrate spoke casually, Jiang Pingchuan knew full well the five hundred jade coins likely represented all their savings. He shook his head.

“Magistrate, Father-in-law, I can’t accept these. As a cultivator, I can travel a thousand miles a day. It takes only ten days to reach the capital from here. These coins would only be a burden.”

Hearing this, the two men hesitated. They’d hoped he’d take the money so he wouldn’t have to scrimp on the road. Since he refused, and considering the coins would fill a small chest—indeed, not convenient to carry—they exchanged a wry glance as Jiang Pingchuan turned and left. Truth be told, aside from these coins, the poor countryside had little else to offer him.

By midday, more people from Sanjiang County had come to bid Jiang Pingchuan farewell. The noodle shop bustled with activity all afternoon. Xiao Wu, after hours of toil and drenched in sweat, finally managed to share a drink with him.

After the meal, Jiang Pingchuan returned to his room, then visited Zhou Ning’er’s chamber. Lying on her bed, he breathed in the lingering traces of her presence. In the haze between waking and sleep, he almost felt her beside him.

He took out the purple skull from his belt—Ning’er’s soul no longer resided within. He’d entrusted his two Dao crystals to Old Fish, so she could use them to nourish Zhou Ning’er’s soul and body.

Now, Zhou Ning’er was no different from any ordinary person—she breathed, though she could not wake. Jiang Pingchuan put away the purple skull, rose, and stepped outside to stand before the noodle shop.

There, all the townsfolk, gentry, and wealthy men of Sanjiang had gathered. Jiang Pingchuan walked up to Gao Yao, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. Now, Horse-face had donned the robes of a county secretary, having become the new scribe of Sanjiang’s magistrate’s office.

“Everyone, I must go now. If fate allows, we shall meet again.”

He waved to the crowd and strode toward the edge of town. Magistrate Gao had given him a map of the Changfeng Continent, and his route would take him past a graveyard—his first stop.

He thought to visit the old man’s grave. He had not paid his respects in half a year. If he traveled eastward for ten thousand miles, he’d reach the first blockade protecting the capital, and from there, the city would not be far.

“Mr. Jiang, you’ll come back, won’t you?” Horse-face called softly to his retreating figure.

“I will. Take care.”

Without looking back, Jiang Pingchuan replied quietly and quickened his pace, leaving Sanjiang County behind. Those he left stood forlorn, sorrow etched on every face. Madam Zhou wept in Zhou Fu’s embrace—their daughter dead, their son-in-law bound for the capital and its dangers, leaving only the two of them to rely on each other. All they hoped for was that Jiang Pingchuan would someday return to see them.

He walked along the ridges toward Grave Village, which was unchanged—overgrown with weeds on the old man’s burial mound. Jiang Pingchuan cleared them away and bowed three times before the tombstone. As the wind rattled the engraved words, he looked up and found the inscription had changed again:

“Once a tiger in the forest, how could one stoop to a petty existence?”

Jiang Pingchuan could not fathom its meaning, but he sensed the old man wished to impart this message. He turned to leave for the heart of Grave Village but noticed a black coffin lying southeast of the old man’s grave. Approaching, he offered a solemn bow and left—it was the resting place of the Woman with the Cat’s Face.

She had died, but her features were serene, a smile upon her lips—her death seemed to bring her contentment, perhaps even release.

As Jiang Pingchuan passed through Grave Village, the jade pendant at his chest suddenly began to tremble violently. He took it out and saw it was now wreathed in black mist. Where once it was inlaid with gold and jade, now a hint of ghostly black aura made it look profoundly mysterious.

He pocketed the pendant, uncertain why it had reacted so, but he felt as if he were surrounded by unseen presences—or perhaps, they were circling the jade pendant itself.

He pressed on as night fell. Endless darkness stretched before him, the path beneath his feet winding like a black serpent into infinity. By faint moonlight, he hurried forward.

Before long, he spotted a glimmer of light up ahead—someone else traveling by night. Jiang Pingchuan quickened his pace, but as he drew near the light, he slowed, sensing something strange.

Beneath the glow stood a scholar, yet curiously, the scholar carried no lantern. The illumination was not candlelight; instead, it was suffused with a faint pink aura. Jiang Pingchuan immediately sensed something unnatural and potent.

“Please wait!”

He called out to the scholar, but at his words, the man bolted. Jiang Pingchuan swiftly gave chase, catching him by the shoulder. At the moment of contact, he felt a force push back against him—only briefly, before it vanished, as if realizing Jiang Pingchuan was not easily dealt with.

“Mr. Jiang, it’s me!” The scholar turned, breathless, and Jiang Pingchuan recognized him as Yu Shu.

“Yu Shu? You dare travel alone at night? Don’t you know something sinister is clinging to you?”

Jiang Pingchuan released him, irritation in his tone. He’d long suspected Yu Shu was not quite right, and now his suspicions were confirmed.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Jiang. Ah Nan means me no harm,” Yu Shu replied nervously, unconsciously touching his chest as he spoke.

“Ah Nan? You mean you know the being behind the pink aura? If it is something sinister, how can you claim it means you no harm?”

Jiang Pingchuan frowned. Yu Shu seemed well aware of the presence attached to him—and not only that, the two appeared to be acquainted.

“Mr. Jiang, Ah Nan is the woman who would often appear outside my window when I was reading,” Yu Shu explained, a bit dazed. Jiang Pingchuan had once warned him about a strange presence, which had left him uneasy, but eventually, he mustered the courage to meet her. Since then, Ah Nan had kept him company, never showing malice, and Yu Shu had grown to enjoy her presence.

“Let her appear,” Jiang Pingchuan said, fixing his gaze on Yu Shu’s chest. Yu Shu’s little gestures did not escape him. Yu Shu hesitated—after all, Jiang Pingchuan was a cultivator, and if he wished to harm Ah Nan, Yu Shu would be powerless to stop him.

“Don’t worry. I mean her no harm,” Jiang Pingchuan reassured him, seeing his concern. In truth, he bore no ill intent—he was simply curious to see who, or what, this Ah Nan truly was.