Chapter 29: The Five Perfections Sword Maiden (Seeking Collection)

“Master Song, I’ve recently taken in a daughter and wish to commission a Spirit Portrait.”

Hu Chen knelt below and bowed nine times toward the altar, cutting straight to the point without flattery or small talk.

It was what his great-grandfather taught him.

As the saying goes: ghosts speak nothing but nonsense.

Ghostly words are meant to be heard, not taken seriously.

Don’t call you “younger brother,” and you reply with “elder brother”—as if you truly share a close bond with him.

And as the saying goes again: money can make ghosts push mills.

Ghosts and gods are no ordinary spirits; they cannot be bought with mere gold.

Normally, to drive off ghosts you use money, but to command gods you need a talisman’s command.

But Hu Chen isn’t asking “Master Song” to help push a mill.

Thanks to his great-grandfather’s connections, these three tables of offerings and a large brazier of spirit gold are more than enough to pay for a single Spirit Portrait.

So just state your request plainly—don’t complicate things.

“Another Spirit Portrait? Last time it was for your niece—she’s now a favorite concubine of the King of Shu, isn’t she? This time it’s your adopted daughter—planning to present her to which noble?”

“Master Song” spoke lazily, still seated at the table drinking and eating.

He didn’t stop Hu Chen’s kneeling rites, didn’t correct his address, and didn’t rise to return the bow.

Hu Chen hesitated a moment, then decided to reveal part of the truth: “I earned minor merit during the chaos of the Thirty-Six States and was fortunate enough to join the ranks of Marquis Lieyang, soon to depart for Great Qin to serve the Emperor.”

“But I have no connections in Great Qin, and my modest wealth means nothing to its nobles—so...”

“To enter the Central Kingdom? Brother Hu Chen, what a glorious future—congratulations, congratulations!”

Yet his tone held no real surprise or wonder—he’d clearly heard of Hu Chen’s affairs before.

“Since you and your niece harbor lofty ambitions, I shall surely lend a hand.”

Ghosts eat faster than mortals. In the span of a few words, the dishes and wine jars were half-empty. Master Song rose from his seat, his dark silhouette faintly visible in the gloom, as if bowing slightly to Hu Chen in return.

“As before, shall we summon the Western Painting Sage Wu Daozi?”

“Wu Daozi is a Western Painting Sage, but I’m presenting this Spirit Portrait to a noble of Great Qin. The Central Kingdom is the heart of culture—its common folk are well-traveled and discerning, and its nobles have seen countless divine scrolls and immortal verses.”

Master Song’s tone grew slightly cold: “You want to summon a Central Kingdom master? I, a lowly clerk, cannot summon the honored guests of immortal caves.”

Hu Chen bowed again, lowering his head: “My newly adopted daughter is a western desert barbarian princess. She will enter Xianyang with the captive procession and may be selected to serve in the Xianyang Palace—perhaps even become a lady-in-waiting to the Emperor.”

“Brother, what bold ambition—to offer your daughter to the Emperor!”

Master Song’s ghostly form trembled, his tone thick with mockery and absurdity.

Hu Chen replied calmly: “I am no arrogant fool.”

—I have confidence. I have grounds.

This time, Master Song was truly startled.

Hu Chen continued: “Master Song, all I ask is that you deliver a message. Whether the Central Kingdom master comes or not is my fate.”

Once my daughter’s Spirit Portrait reaches the Xianyang Palace, the Central Kingdom master who painted it will once again appear before the world and gain great renown.”

“And of course, should I or my daughter ever achieve anything, we shall never forget your grace, Master Song.”

“Very well. Summoning a Western Painting Sage is one message; sending word to a Central Kingdom master is also one message. I’ll speak well of you—hope you truly achieve something.”

Master Song gave Hu Chen a long look, then vanished into the courtyard as suddenly as he’d come—a gust of dark wind swirling fallen leaves away.

Yet the surrounding yin energy did not lessen.

Hu Chen’s ritual was meant to summon Master Song, but it also drew in many wandering ghosts.

Hu Chen stood calmly in the courtyard, arms behind his back, ignoring the flickering shadows nearby.

He waited roughly the length of an incense stick—when the incense in the censer burned out, he lit another.

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh~~”

Just as before, a gust of yin wind rose from nowhere, and Master Song’s hazy black shadow reappeared.

“Brother, you’re lucky. On my way back, I happened to meet Little Hu government office. Little Hu government office is generous and righteous; upon hearing your story, he immediately returned home and gave me a letter of introduction from Judge Hu.”

“With Judge Hu’s prestige, I’ve persuaded Sage Zhang to paint your Spirit Portrait.”

Hu Chen knelt and bowed in thanks, then asked curiously: “Which Sage Zhang?”

Master Song’s tone held a hint of pride: “Have you heard the legend of the Central Kingdom Painting Sage—‘Paint a dragon without dotting the eyes; dot them, and thunder strikes’?”

Two thousand years ago, a painter, drunk in Qinglong Temple, painted a dragon on a white wall. In his drunken haze, he accidentally dotted the dragon’s eyes.”

Instantly, lightning flashed, thunder roared, the sky turned blinding white—and a bolt shattered the wall, carrying the dragon aloft on clouds... That was this very Sage Zhang.”

He is the true Painting Sage—not like our Westerners who merely call themselves so.”

“Ah—it’s him!” Hu Chen was both astonished and delighted, yet puzzled: “But wasn’t Sage Zhang a painter who ascended to heaven to serve the Heavenly Emperor?”

Master Song dismissed it: “Just folk tales—don’t take them as truth. If painting alone could lead to ascension, why would anyone cultivate Qi or refine their Dao?”

It’s merely that exceptional calligraphy and painting please the immortals more easily, granting better celestial fortune.”

But celestial fortune isn’t the same as ascension.”

Having celestial fortune only means stepping onto the Immortal Path—your future achievements still depend on your character, insight, innate talent, and opportunity.”

Hu Chen didn’t care whether Sage Zhang had ascended to heaven or descended to the underworld—he hurriedly asked: “When will Sage Zhang arrive? What preparations must I make?”

Master Song replied: “Just prepare brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. Everything else, keep it simple.”

He paused, then lowered his voice further: “Sage Zhang is doing this solely out of respect for Judge Hu. He has no interest in you or your daughter, and despises showing off or regaining fame.”

“He’s already immortalized in history—a legendary figure. He needs no Spirit Portrait to win renown.”

“I understand,” Hu Chen said earnestly. “When I return to Yingxiang Prefecture, I’ll first report to my great-grandfather the generosity of Little Hu government office and Judge Hu, then choose an auspicious day to host a Thirty-Three Heavens Grand Ritual to thank you, Judge Hu and his son, and Sage Zhang.”

—This boy’s still sensible—he knows to put old Song first.

Master Song was satisfied, yet shook his head and chuckled: “Brother, know this: gifts must reach the heart.”

A Grand Ritual is grand indeed—the most sincere offering. No ghost or god would be displeased.”

“But the true patron of this matter is Little Hu government office!”

Hu Chen immediately knelt again: “Please, Master Song, instruct me!”

He’d never heard of “Little Hu government office” before, but even without details, “Judge Hu’s son” was enough to explain everything.

Hu Chen didn’t know Judge Hu either—he planned to ask the City God for details upon returning.

Now Master Song clearly said “the gift must please Little Hu government office”—he clearly had a specific demand.

“Sharp boy!” Master Song praised, smiling. “Little Hu government office is generous, righteous, and unbound by trivialities—he embodies the spirit of Central Kingdom knights. But he’s no crude oaf like me.”

“He chases elegance—he’s a romantic scholar who adores poetry and prose.”

“Especially... ah, I’m just a crude oaf—I can’t even explain it.”

“One thing: I’ve often seen Little Hu government office lost in thought, sighing and lamenting, muttering over and over: ‘A maiden’s blush fades before crow’s black, yet still bears the sun’s glow from Zhao Yang.’ I don’t understand—your family is cultured. Do you?”

Hu Chen didn’t understand either. He had no idea what Master Song meant, nor what Little Hu government office wanted—he’d never heard “A maiden’s blush fades before crow’s black, yet still bears the sun’s glow from Zhao Yang.” Surely not to burn poems for him?

Guan Zhong, who was burning spirit gold beside him, suddenly seemed to grasp something and whispered: “Master, ‘A maiden’s blush fades before crow’s black, yet still bears the sun’s glow from Zhao Yang’... isn’t that Lady Li Manman’s poem?”

Had Master Song not been a ghost, he would’ve given Guan Zhong an approving glance.

Hu Chen was no fool. He hadn’t heard those two lines, but he knew—no, he was deeply familiar—with Lady Li Manman.

She was one of the “Western Eight Beauties,” the “Five Perfections Sword Maiden,” and also the top courtesan of Shu—Sword Maiden of the Luodu Teaching Bureau.

The “Five Perfections” meant poetry, sword, dance, beauty, and song—all peerless.

“Little Hu government office is truly a romantic soul—he has taste, he understands elegance. But he overestimates me!” Hu Chen sighed helplessly. “Though Lady Li Manman is a courtesan, she is also the adopted daughter of the Prince of Qinghe. She dances but never sells herself; she receives guests only when she pleases.”

“You’ve surely heard of the Prince of Qinghe.”

“Forget his status and reputation—I currently hold the title ‘Iron Cavalry Captain of the Great Shu Lu Ye Guard,’ directly under the Prince of Qinghe’s command.”

Little Hu government office didn’t love poetry—he loved the woman who wrote those lines.

Hu Chen understood what he wanted.

But the Five Perfections Sword Maiden was no one he could manipulate at will—if he could, he’d have done it himself long ago. Why wait for Little Hu government office to take the first bite?

Unless one day, his great future in Great Qin comes true.

“Brother, don’t be so modest. Aren’t you going to serve the Emperor of Great Qin? Are Great Qin’s nobles less powerful than the Prince of Qinghe?” Master Song asked.

Hu Chen’s heart stirred. He bowed: “Little Hu government office has shown such righteousness and kindness—how could I not repay him? As soon as my daughter’s entry into Xianyang shows any promise, I’ll have Lady Li Manman perform dance, song, and sword for Little Hu government office at once.”

First secure the benefit. Promises and futures are always uncertain.

Master Song was dissatisfied.

He thought Hu Chen was delusional.

A mere general’s daughter from a remote border kingdom—a desert barbarian—how could she possibly catch the eye of Great Qin’s nobles, let alone serve the Emperor? If it were that easy, the Xianyang Palace would be packed to bursting.

“Brother, even if you can’t yet drink the honeyed water from snow-capped peaks, cool well water still quenches thirst.”

Hu Chen nodded vigorously: “I understand. Within the Grand Ritual, I’ll make sure Little Hu government office’s thirst is quenched.”

Master Song was finally satisfied.