Chapter 21: The Plight of Guan Lao Ya

“Master Qingsong...” Guan Huchen unconsciously tugged the reins, and Chiyan Ju immediately slowed its pace.

After hesitating a moment, he ultimately did not turn his horse around to seek out Master Qingsong at once.

“Where did you see him?” he asked.

“By the western garden gate, in the alley—he was surrounded by many others.”

Xiao Yu described the children with concise yet precise wording.

She did not mention how Master Qingsong had called her “clever,” or that if Danzi followed her advice, he might live a few more years.

“Hmm, they’re probably hidden dragons pulled from other vassal states,” Guan Huchen said with sudden understanding.

The fact that Master Qingsong had rushed overnight to Shadou to find him showed just how busy he’d been—and what he’d been busy with.

Xiao Yu said: “They’re all better dressed than Danzi; many don’t even look like ordinary people.”

Guan Huchen thought a moment, then said: “Likely remnants of old royal lineages.”

By “old,” he meant before the Thirty-Six States Alliance was crushed by the Yangyang Marquis.

Xiao Yu longed to ask: Didn’t Qin ruthlessly slaughter anyone whose blade hadn’t yet dulled, and bury those whose blades had? How could there still be royal descendants left?

Of course, even if Xiao Yu wasn’t a humanities student, she remembered from her past life that Qin troops had buried only common folk; most of the Six Kingdoms’ nobles had been spared.

They were relocated to Xianyang, where they remained a step below Qin nobility but far above ordinary people.

“There are also some ordinary children... some aren’t even children,” she said.

“Ordinary children... even our remote borderlands in Shu aren’t spared? Hmph!”

Guan Huchen clenched his lips, a faint flush of anger on his face.

The anger didn’t last long; he merely fell silent, face cold.

Xiao Yu added another question to her mind but wisely stayed quiet.

The next morning, in the back courtyard of the Guan family’s herbal shop.

Guan Huchen leapt off Chiyan Ju and, face grim, told Guan Zhong: “Send someone to wait outside the Prefect’s office. When Master Qingsong returns, come straight to me.”

He had just returned from the Prefect’s office.

After a night’s rest, a bath, and changing into clean everyday robes, he’d planned to visit Master Qingsong there—but upon entering, he didn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

“I asked around. Last night, the Prefect wanted to host a banquet for the imperial envoy, but couldn’t find him—he searched the entire Prefect’s office and couldn’t locate Master Qingsong.

They say the master used immortal arts, appearing and vanishing without trace,” Guan Zhong said, trailing behind Huchen, face troubled.

The Prefect’s office had warriors and sorcerers—yet even they couldn’t detect Master Qingsong’s comings and goings. What use was stationing ordinary men at the gate?

Huchen sneered: “If he were alone, even I couldn’t spot him.

But no matter how skilled his Five Elements Dunshu , he can’t carry many people.

These past few days, he’s been ruthlessly gathering ‘Dao seedlings’ across northern Shu.”

“Dao seedlings... meaning talented disciples for cultivation?” Guan Zhong asked, astonished.

“Not just cultivation talent—those born with Dao bodies, Immortal bodies. Perhaps such people exist in Zhonghua. But in our backwater, we don’t produce such gifted geniuses.”

Huchen stopped in the main hall, unconsciously touching his brow and eyes, “Mainly those born with innate magical abilities!”

“Innate magical abilities...” Guan Zhong glanced quickly at Huchen’s “Immortal Eyes,” and understood.

“I don’t understand why Master Qingsong is neglecting sleep and meals to gather Dao seedlings for our Shu.

I know Shu has been ravaged by the Thirty-Six States Alliance, with heavy losses and weakened strength—but why is the master so obsessed, ignoring even the Prefect’s invitations?”

As he spoke, Guan Zhong poured tea for Huchen, seated in the master’s chair.

Huchen sipped his “Great Qin Longjing” and sneered: “You understand nothing—you’re a fool! Master Qingsong is draining Shu’s vital essence to feed Qin.

Right now, the Dao seedlings are being kept at the Prefect’s office; when the Yangyang Marquis returns, he’ll take them all—along with the hidden dragons—back to the heartland of Qin.”

Guan Zhong blinked, then bowed: “I am shallow! Master, your insight is profound—you see the whole tree from a single leaf.”

Huchen shook his head: “I’m not as astute as you say—I simply know more than you.

Qin’s Daoist thieves have been doing this for ages.

Every three or five years, border inspectors crossed Liushahe to secretly patrol our western vassal states.

Back then, they never stayed in Shu; they focused on draining the richer, stronger states farther west—Xilu, Juxiang, Tianfeng, Chichi, and others.

Without these constant drainings, how could the wise and martial rulers of Lu, with its flourishing culture and martial tradition, have produced only ‘Ten Great Immortals of Xilu’?”

Guan Zhong exclaimed: “All these years, so many border inspectors came—and I never heard a word of this!”

Huchen set down his teacup and sighed: “Even Zhang, the Prefect who wields arcane arts, can’t find Master Qingsong. What makes you think you’re better than him?

Those Daoist thieves are truly cruel and ruthless—and they truly possess uncanny foresight, profound sorcery, and vast supernatural power.

Had Shu not held Tianmen to guard the Shadou crossing—through which all travelers from the west must pass—I’d never have known this existed.”

Guan Zhong held back several times, but finally couldn’t: “Master, I understand your loyalty to Shu, and your sorrow over the loss of Dao seedlings and declining strength.

But you must think of yourself too.

If you know Master Qingsong can foresee the future, don’t keep calling him ‘thief Daoist’ or ‘little Dao boy.’

Beware—he might sense your words and calculate your fate!”

He was roughly Huchen’s age, a household-born servant who had served Huchen since childhood, and knew his master’s nickname: “Guan Lao Ya.”

He’d heard Huchen mutter “thief Daoist” before, knew it was wrong, but also knew it was just “Guan Lao Ya” being himself—so he’d said nothing.

But now that Huchen had explicitly said these Daoists could foresee the future, he could no longer stay silent.

Guan Huchen replied calmly: “I have no patriotic devotion.

If Shu grew strong, the Li family would fear drawing Qin’s attention—and our Guan family would gain nothing.

With Shu’s talent dwindling, our Guan clan’s heroes stand a better chance at high positions.

As for these Daoists’ foresight—you’re worrying over nothing.

Divination is real, but even a Heavenly Immortal can’t sit at home, calculate a few moments, and know everything in the world.”

Even the Jade Emperor needs the Eyes of a Thousand Li and Ears of a Thousand Miles to learn details.

Does the Jade Emperor, who has endured ten thousand calamities, not understand the innate changes of the Dao?

Guan Zhong exhaled slightly, relieved: “If you’re not worried about the loss of Dao seedlings or the decline of talent, why are you so angry?”

“Don’t you get it?” Huchen glanced at him coldly. “There’s a saying: the flour seller hates the lime seller.

Once these Dao seedlings enter Qin’s army, how will I, a famed general of western Shu, stand out anymore?”

The Son of Heaven isn’t a bandit—he can’t just slaughter and bury endlessly.

Balancing mercy and authority is a basic skill every ruler masters.

The Yangyang Marquis has already shown Qin’s terrifying might across the Thirty-Six States; next, he’ll bestow favors to soothe the hearts of the western peoples.

The more Qin invests in Shu’s Dao seedlings, the less likely my future under the Yangyang Marquis will diminish.

But as Huchen himself said: the flour seller hates the lime seller.

Truthfully, lime only looks like flour—it doesn’t truly compete with flour.

Guan Lao Ya is simply narrow-minded—and he knows it.

He knows it, but he doesn’t care.

Because he only mutters complaints behind closed doors, to soothe himself—without ever changing his humility and deference before Zhonghua’s nobles.

Guan Zhong thought a moment, then understood his master’s tangled emotions.

He nodded: “I truly understand now. No need to watch Master Qingsong—just watch for the Dao seedlings appearing outside the Prefect’s gate.”

He walked out to the main hall’s entrance, waved over a sharp-witted servant, and whispered instructions...

Returning to the hall, he saw his master still sipping tea, and asked hesitantly: “Master, are you in such a hurry to find Master Qingsong?

I told you yesterday: in three or five days, the Yangyang Marquis will return to Tianmen or Luodu from Feixian Ferry.

Master Qingsong will surely appear then.

You’ll be traveling with the Marquis—how could you miss him?”

Guan Huchen shook his head: “I’d rather find Qingsong before the Yangyang Marquis returns.

I can tell—Yu Yu looks down on me.

The ‘Nine-Turn Bone-Transformation Pill’ in Qingsong’s hands can purify my bloodline, strengthen my sinews and bones, and elevate my Immortal Eyes beyond their current level.”

Yu Yu... that kid...

Guan Zhong’s forehead broke into sweat.

Even knowing his master was “Guan Lao Ya,” he never imagined he’d dare to mock the Yangyang Marquis so openly.

Not only did he use his name—he called him “that kid.” Isn’t it you who looks down on him, not the other way around?

“Master, aren’t you overthinking? Immortal Eyes are such a great divine power—even immortals covet them.

Anyone who awakens Immortal Eyes has at least the foundation of an immortal rank.

Even if they die as ordinary mortals, the Underworld’s Yanjun will recruit them, or enfeoff them as ghost deities, or send them to some immortal paradise to guard a great immortal’s estate... cough, I mean, serve as a great immortal’s advisor.

That’s why ‘Thousand-Li Eyes’ is called the ‘Immortal Eyes.’

Doesn’t the Yangyang Marquis understand the value of Thousand-Li Eyes to the Fire Crow Army?

During the recent Thirty-Six States rebellion, your eyes saw every enemy plan before it unfolded.

That’s how the Marquis swept through armies like wildfire,” Guan Zhong said, bewildered.