Chapter 38

Gu Zhao drank tea with Daoist Yan Song and added him as a friend.

Seeing how fashionable Daoist Yan Song was, Jiang Shishi asked, “Aren’t you registered on Doukuai?”

“No, I can still watch without registering,” Daoist Yan Song shook his head, grinning. “If I registered and someone found out I followed only those purple-robed Heavenly Masters, where would I put my old face?”

Jiang Shishi didn’t understand. “Isn’t it normal for Daoists to follow purple-robed Heavenly Masters?”

Xiao Ya silently handed her phone over. “These kinds of purple-robed Heavenly Masters.”

Jiang Shishi: Σ(ﾟдﾟlll)

So these weren’t just female Bodhisattvas—they were female Heavenly Masters too. Buddhism kept up with the times, and Daoism didn’t fall behind!

…

As the time was about right, they had already arranged dinner with Xuan Xuan’s parents, so they didn’t linger any longer.

Daoist Yan Song handed Gu Zhao a card. “This is a secondary pass to Qingcheng Mountain Dao Palace—no entrance fee when entering the mountain.”

Gu Zhao didn’t refuse; this man was recognized by the Five Thunder Talisman. He might need to seek him out later, and since he had no income, every coin saved on entrance fees counted.

Gu Zhao: (oﾟ▽ﾟ)o

On the way down the mountain, Jiang Shishi and Xiao Ya remained as curious as children.

“Is there really spiritual energy in heaven and earth?”

“Can you really cultivate? What does cultivation feel like? Can it grant immortality and eternal youth?”

“Does this world really have ghosts? Female ghosts, child ghosts, old man ghosts?”

“Can you fly? Can you turn invisible? Can you see through things?”

Gu Zhao glanced sideways at Jiang Shishi; she instinctively covered her chest.

Gu Zhao sneered, “If I could see through things, what good would covering up do?”

“Fair point!” Jiang Shishi nodded, lowered her hands, then lifted her chest defiantly. “How’s that?”

Gu Zhao didn’t look away, gritting his teeth. “Passable.”

“You two perverts, that’s enough!” Xiao Ya broke their gaze. “We’ve got things to do later!”

Jiang Shishi gave Xiao Ya a meaningful look, then added, “I was just asking if cultivation is really that amazing!”

Gu Zhao countered, “What do you think?”

“Of course it’s amazing—you saved that child in such a dire situation,” Jiang Shishi marveled.

“And you can heal and nurture health,” Xiao Ya added.

Gu Zhao nodded silently. From Daoist Yan Song’s condition, he could tell that under sparse spiritual energy, they could only accumulate meager magic power—barely enough to draw a single simple Heavenly Gang Talisman, let alone anything else. Naturally, their abilities were limited to healing and health.

Of course, Gu Zhao now had more questions.

“Are there places in this world where spiritual energy is relatively dense?”

“Besides Daoist Yan Song, are there other Daoists—or anyone else—who have cultivated magic power?”

“Are there evil cultivators? Are there...”

But these questions weren’t urgent. Gu Zhao buried them deep in his heart, contacted Xuan Xuan’s parents after descending the mountain, and then ate an authentic Sichuan meal in Rongcheng.

After bidding each other reluctant farewells and agreeing to chat more online and meet again when free, Jiang Shishi and Xiao Ya left Rongcheng early the next morning—they still had to tour with their performance troupe and would return to Yan Capital in a week.

Gu Zhao did not return to Yangcheng with Li Man. Instead, he claimed he missed his grandparents and stayed in Rongcheng for a while, delighting his grandparents so much that they prepared a full table of real Sichuan dishes that night, leaving Gu Zhao thoroughly satisfied.

…

“Xiuyue County.”

Gu Zhao looked at a stone stele standing before the earthen wall, inscribed with the name of the county.

At the city gate, a squad of constables in uniform cloth armor guarded the entrance, collecting two copper coins from each person entering—no searches of goods or checks of travel permits.

Commoners, merchants, scholars, farmers, carts and horses flowed continuously; though the small town wasn’t particularly prosperous, its everyday bustle was abundant—no wonder bamboo crafts from mountain villages always sold well.

After watching for a moment, Gu Zhao stepped from the roadside, paid the two copper coins normally, and entered the city.

The small town matched Gu Zhao’s image of an ancient county seat: wider roads lined with inns, taverns, apothecaries, and cosmetics shops; narrow alleys led to courtyards and private homes.

Gu Zhao strolled through streets and alleys, dressed in ancient robes, blending in seamlessly—it felt natural.

Yet as he looked left and right, the town seemed nothing but an ordinary ancient county: silk-clad Squires alongside ragged beggars, but mostly ordinary folk.

If Gu Zhao had been transported here instantly without any external advantages, he’d never have imagined this world harbored demons and monsters.

But now that he possessed magic power and observed closely, he noticed the county’s oddities.

He spotted over a dozen civilians clearly drained of essence, spirit, and vitality, and one grand mansion that, even in broad daylight, radiated a chilling aura that made his skin crawl.

Passing a butcher shop and a teahouse, Gu Zhao sensed a faint stench of blood—clearly not a good sign.

The county yamen, however, showed no trace of disturbance. Still, he wouldn’t underestimate it—especially since he hadn’t yet located the Golden Wind Sect’s altar within the city.

“What I can sense now probably isn’t the strongest,” Gu Zhao thought. “Xiuyue County isn’t a peaceful place. No wonder Old He fled back to the village.”

Compared to remote mountain villages, Xiuyue County was far more dangerous. Unless facing total village annihilation, staying in the village was safer than staying in the county.

Gu Zhao was pondering how to discreetly inquire about the Golden Wind Sect when he suddenly sensed someone following him.

It wasn’t that he had eyes in the back of his head—it was the natural sixth sense granted by magic power and spiritual sense: prolonged attention on him triggered awareness.

Taking the chance to buy a baked pancake from a street vendor, Gu Zhao spotted two hooligans in casual attire, not far behind, pretending indifference but glancing at him repeatedly.

Their stances swayed, weapons hidden at their waists, eyes gleaming with greed and malice.

In modern times, Gu Zhao would have fled by taxi or sought police help—but here...

Gu Zhao turned and stepped into a nearby alley. There—his information source arrived.

But to his surprise, the two hooligans didn’t follow immediately. Just as Gu Zhao, pretending calmness, was nearly at the alley’s end, a figure walked toward him—it was one of the hooligans.

The next instant, footsteps sounded behind him—the second hooligan finally entered, closing in fast.

The pincer formation was complete; both hooligans wore cruel smirks.

“You look unfamiliar. First time in Xiuyue County? Visiting friends or studying?”

“You dress well—must have decent cash. Today, we’ll teach you a lesson: don’t wander into alleys during daylight.”

“Enough talk. Hand over your money—or don’t blame our blades for being careless!” The front hooligan drew a short knife; the rear one grinned wickedly.

Gu Zhao pressed against the wall, feigning innocence. “You… you’re not trying to rob me, are you?”

Gu Zhao gestured with both hands, sternly warning them, “If you take another step, I’ll act. I’m telling you—this is self-defense. If I kill you, I won’t be held responsible.”

Daoists act with integrity; they never strike without warning.

Finding Gu Zhao absurdly naive, the two hooligans burst out laughing and advanced closer.

“Duk! Duk! Duk!”

But just before they moved to attack, three soft taps echoed. Behind the front hooligan walked a white-robed man carrying a bamboo basket full of scrolls, holding a bamboo pole adorned with painted landscapes and figures.

“Excuse me, let me pass,” the man said coolly.