Chapter Seventy: The Storm Approaches

The carriage rocked gently as it entered Dongzhou City, weaving through the bustling main streets before turning into a quiet, shadowed alley where the noise faded away. Not long after, the carriage came to a halt.

Jiang Pingchuan opened his eyes and looked at Lord Gong, who said nothing, simply stepped out of the carriage. Jiang Pingchuan and Lan Dao followed, standing before the grand gates of the Gong residence.

The lacquered doors, adorned with bronze lions, spoke of the residence’s age. Two lifelike stone lions stood guard at the entrance, and beyond the threshold was a large screen wall carved with an image of Dongzhou City’s gate. Unlike the actual gates, the carving was crowded with armored guards, at the center of whom was a woman holding a swaddled infant. Gazing at the screen, Jiang Pingchuan seemed to hear faint, distant cries.

He scanned the layout of the Gong residence, noting its auspicious placement—a site blessed by wind and water, a prized geomantic location. People of Changfeng Continent took great care in the art of feng shui; every grand home, no matter where it stood, paid heed to such principles.

“Si Fu, have the workers unload the goods. You two come with me, and Ah Hu as well,” Lord Gong said, his sleepy voice buzzing as if he had not truly awakened in years. Ah Hu was the grizzled, stubble-faced middle-aged man Jiang Pingchuan had seen earlier.

Behind Ah Hu was a group of similarly dressed men—likely his subordinates. Ah Hu nodded, glanced at Jiang Pingchuan without speaking, and followed Lord Gong into the main hall.

Jiang Pingchuan took another look at the screen wall before leading Lan Dao after Lord Gong. Lord Gong pointed to the chairs, and Jiang Pingchuan and Lan Dao took their seats, while Ah Hu stood at Lord Gong’s side.

On the table next to the chairs, tea steamed in three cups, clearly freshly prepared. The presence of three cups suggested that Lord Gong had anticipated meeting Jiang Pingchuan and Lan Dao in Dongzhou City.

“Lord Gong, may I ask why you summoned me here?” Jiang Pingchuan said, eyeing Lord Gong. The residence felt thick with the scent of blood—not the home of a merchant, but something darker.

“You are Pingchuan, correct? I called you here today because there is something I need your help with,” Lord Gong replied, lifting his tea and blowing gently on it before sipping from the rim.

“Lord Gong, if there’s a matter, our Tiger Mercenary Corps can handle it. Why bother outsiders?” Ah Hu, standing by Lord Gong, interjected anxiously, his eyes darting to Jiang Pingchuan with a mix of curiosity and disdain. Jiang Pingchuan sensed Ah Hu saw him as a rival, threatening his mercenary business.

“Ah Hu, this is beyond you. No one in Dongzhou City can do it. We are all cursed, powerless to accomplish this,” Lord Gong said, shaking his head calmly. Ah Hu was clearly displeased to hear this.

“May I ask what exactly this matter concerns?” Jiang Pingchuan inquired.

Jiang Pingchuan had no desire for trouble, yet it was clear this matter weighed heavily on Lord Gong. From his words, it seemed none in Dongzhou City could manage it—not even cultivators like Ah Hu, who possessed the fourth level of Qi Training. Clearly, this was a formidable problem.

“This concerns the safety of all Dongzhou City. I believe it necessary to gather the city’s nobles and heroes to discuss it. Rest assured, Pingchuan, your reward will be generous,” Lord Gong said, his face clouded with sorrow. At the mention of reward, Ah Hu’s eyes flashed green, hinting at its richness.

“Lord Gong, I confess my doubts, and hope you can enlighten me,” Jiang Pingchuan replied, glancing at Ah Hu and then at Lord Gong. Lan Dao, meanwhile, sat quietly sipping tea, though his ears were alert, absorbing every detail. When Lord Gong implied only he and Jiang Pingchuan could resolve the matter, every pore in Lan Dao’s body seemed to howl; following his brother back to the capital, he expected to encounter many such unprecedented events.

“If you have questions, don’t fret now. Go to your rooms and settle in. Tonight, I will invite the city’s heroes and nobles to the Gong residence. All will be revealed then. What do you say, Pingchuan?” Lord Gong’s hand remained steady as he sipped his tea, never once trembling. This detail made Jiang Pingchuan realize Lord Gong was no ordinary man.

“Well... Then I shall defer to your arrangements,” Jiang Pingchuan said after some thought. So soon after arriving in Dongzhou City, he encountered Lord Gong and was now asked to undertake a task that concerned the city’s fate. The chain of events seemed logical, yet riddled with doubts. Now, Jiang Pingchuan could only wait for evening, when he hoped his questions would be answered.

“Very well. Si Fu, Si Fu...” Lord Gong rose and called out for Si Fu at the hall’s entrance. A string of jade prayer beads slipped from his wrist, which he lightly thumbed.

“Yes, yes, I’m here, sir. What are your orders?” Si Fu wiped sweat from his brow, smiling sheepishly.

“Arrange accommodations for the two young men, and tonight send invitations to Dongzhou City’s heroes and nobles to gather at the residence,” Lord Gong instructed, then turned and clasped hands to Jiang Pingchuan before leaving with Ah Hu.

“Please follow me, gentlemen,” Si Fu said gently, now more relaxed after Lord Gong’s departure. Si Fu was a middle-aged man, but his voice carried the weight of many hardships. Jiang Pingchuan nodded and followed Si Fu toward the guest rooms, feeling that Si Fu was concealing something.

Lan Dao, meanwhile, wandered, gazing about the residence, more interested in the matter Lord Gong had mentioned.

“Si Fu, are you the steward of this residence?” Jiang Pingchuan asked, watching Si Fu’s back. Si Fu paused, nodded, and said nothing more, clearly reluctant to elaborate. Jiang Pingchuan pressed no further, following Si Fu to a guest room.

“You’ll stay here, gentlemen. Two rooms—this one for you, and the next for your companion,” Si Fu said, opening both doors. Lan Dao nodded, clasped hands in thanks, and entered his room.

“Someone will come to attend you soon. If you need anything, find me in the rear courtyard,” Si Fu said, turning to leave.

“Thank you, steward,” Jiang Pingchuan replied, and entered the room. Watching Si Fu’s retreating figure, Jiang Pingchuan closed the door and surveyed the space.

The room was unremarkable, with two screens—one shielding the bed, the other the washroom. Jiang Pingchuan lay on the bed, his mind foggy, and heard voices from the adjacent room: Lan Dao and a woman, likely the maid Si Fu had mentioned. Water splashed and Lan Dao’s hearty laughter echoed; the maid was helping him bathe.

Soon, Jiang Pingchuan’s door was pushed open. He raised his head, vision blurred, unable to see the visitor’s face, but she appeared to be a maid of graceful form.

She carried a basin, setting it gently in the washroom, then turned and approached Jiang Pingchuan on the bed. As he tried to rise, the maid pressed him back, her face nestled tightly against his chest.

A sweet scent filled his nostrils, making his mind even more muddled. Her hands wandered over him, untying his belt and slipping off his white robe, her fingers trailing lower.

Suddenly, Jiang Pingchuan’s eyes flashed with clarity. He seized the maid’s hand and flung it aside, sitting up shakily and staring at her frightened, confused face. He shook his head, wondering why he felt so lethargic, unable to think clearly.

“Sir, did I do something wrong?” the maid asked, teary-eyed and head bowed.

Standing, Jiang Pingchuan rubbed his eyes and finally saw her clearly—fair-skinned, lovely, bright-eyed and captivating. He steadied himself and waved his hand.

“What is your name?” he asked, bare-chested as he walked to the washroom, needing water to clear his mind. Everything here felt shrouded in confusion, and his heart was uneasy.

“My name is Mei’er,” the maid replied, smiling at the still-uncertain Jiang Pingchuan.