Chapter 75

Chen Guanlou spun a tale, and Master Du grew excited, imagining old trees sprouting new buds.

Chen Guanlou also promised him that once the business was up and running, Master Du could bring his eldest son from home to help, earning a decent income. Beijing was vast, populous, filled with the wealthy—and thus brimming with opportunity. With the Hou Fu as his backer, as long as he dared to act, money would never be lacking.

The Hou Fu was the greatest patron; the Tianlaomiao was the greatest treasure.

“I heard the Second Young Mistress owns a jewelry shop that also deals in buybacks. When the time comes, I’ll speak to Manager Liu—perhaps we can open another business channel.”

Don’t fixate solely on rare ancient artifacts; not every official has the taste or knowledge for them. Most households prefer hoarding gold and silver, and women favor buying gold and silver jewelry.

“With the Second Young Mistress, we must proceed slowly—no haste. Right now, the First and Second Branches appear harmonious on the surface, but behind closed doors, they’re locked in bitter rivalry. We’re already aligned with the Elder Master; if we rashly involve the Second Branch, we risk angering him. Offending the Second Young Mistress might bring hardship, but offending the Elder Master? That’s ruin. Listen to this old man—don’t be greedy.”

Master Du was not blinded by Chen Guanlou’s flattery; he retained his basic clarity. He was the Elder Master’s man—he could not betray him, or the scandal of being a traitorous servant would follow him.

Other matters didn’t matter.

Once branded a traitor, his future was finished. No noble household would employ a man who betrayed his master. If you suffer misfortune alongside your master and never switch allegiances, they respect your character and may even offer you another chance. But a traitor—even if brilliant—is despised, and will never get a second opportunity.

“Thank you, Master Du, for the reminder. This matter truly cannot be rushed. We must prioritize the Elder Master first. If all else fails, I’ll find another path. In any case, from now on, you and I will earn money together and drink together. I only hope you don’t find me too shallow.”

“You’re just too modest. If you joined a proper government office, with your talents, you’d rise eventually—far better than the Tianlaomiao. Yet you stubbornly cling to it, refusing advice. I don’t understand what’s so appealing about the Tianlaomiao.”

Master Du shook his head repeatedly, pondering long but unable to comprehend.

Chen Guanlou laughed heartily. How could the world understand what the Tianlaomiao meant to him? He had no need to explain its meaning to anyone.

“Drink! Let’s drink!” He quickly changed the subject, avoiding talk of the Tianlaomiao, focusing only on the future.

…

On his day off, at dawn when the sky was still dim, Chen Guanlou disguised himself and left the city, carrying incense, candles, and paper money to burn for Luo Jingtian at the outskirts, thanking him for leaving behind the treasure, The Ascension Record.

Though it had been a transaction, in his heart, what Luo Jingtian left him far surpassed its value. He was a man who kept his word and repaid every kindness—that was a matter of principle.

Beyond the city, he walked more than twenty li before reaching the burial site.

The location was remote and desolate, with little sign of human presence. The Luo family chose this place to bury Luo Jingtian precisely because its isolation avoided trouble and prevented anyone from coveting the land and forcibly relocating the grave.

He lit the incense and candles, then set fire to the paper money.

“Old Luo, dust to dust, earth to earth. Take the money and bribe the King of Hell—strive for a better rebirth next life. Maybe we’ll meet again someday. I may not come back, so I’m burning you extra. You say nothing—I’ll take that as receipt.”

After the paper burned out and the flames died, he set off down the mountain, walking all the way back to Beijing.

On the way back to the city, two figures trailed him—wearing wide-brimmed hats, their faces concealed, dressed as members of the martial arts underworld.

He glanced around: barren, empty, dense trees all around—perfect for murder and burial.

He stopped, turned, and stared at the two tails.

“Why are you following this old man?” This time, he played the part of a man past fifty, even wearing patched clothes bought from a tailor’s shop—any request he made, the shop’s clerk would fulfill.

“Hand over the item.” The two tails, both in their prime and second-rank martial cultivators, spoke with brutal menace—naturally entitled to arrogance.

Two second-rank martial cultivators facing an ordinary old man? Of course they could be arrogant.

Chen Guanlou frowned, “What item?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Hand over Luo Jingtian’s things.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Old man, don’t be foolish. We’ve guarded Luo Jingtian’s grave for nearly a month—you’re the first person to pay respects. His belongings must be with you. Give them up, and we’ll give you a quick death. Otherwise, don’t blame my sword for killing without mercy.”

How arrogant!

Chen Guanlou tilted his head, thought carefully, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have anything belonging to Luo Jingtian.”

“Even as death approaches, you still pretend ignorance. The Luos don’t have it—so where else could it be?”

“Luo Jingtian tricked us, stole the item. We were too late—he died at the executioner’s blade. You’re the only one who came to pay respects; your bond with him must be deep. Best you cooperate.”

“I truly don’t understand.” Chen Guanlou repeated the same line—nothing, absolutely nothing. He would never admit to possessing Luo Jingtian’s final wealth—not in a dream.

“Enough talking. Kill him. Teach him some manners.”

The two tails drew their swords and attacked.

Chen Guanlou’s blade unsheathed.

He felt no fear—in fact, deep inside, a fierce thrill surged: two second-rank martial cultivators? Come on, come harder!

Blade unsheathed!

Flash of steel, glint of sword!

Three strikes!

Tail A dropped dead instantly—a thin line across his chest, thud—he lay still, breath gone.

Tail B stared in disbelief, face pale with shock, horror, utter astonishment.

He looked at his dead companion, then at Chen Guanlou, and screamed, “Luo Jingtian’s treasure really is in your hands!”

“You keep repeating ‘treasure, treasure,’ yet never say what it is. Now that it’s just you and me—can you tell this old man what you’re truly seeking?”

He advanced step by step; Tail B retreated, expression shifting wildly, “Kill me if you must. What’s the point of pretending now? Mocking me?”

Chen Guanlou looked genuinely confused, “I truly don’t understand—I’m not mocking you.”

He seemed sincere, but the other clearly didn’t believe him.

The man gave a bitter, mocking laugh, “You have no martial meridians, yet you possess a top-tier internal cultivation method. How dare you still lie? Fraud! If it weren’t for what Luo Jingtian left you, I’d have slain you with one thrust.”

“To be honest, Luo Jingtian gave me silver to bury and burn paper for him after his death. As for my martial skill—haven’t you heard of hidden meridians?”

“Hidden meridians appear once every ten years—how could you possibly be one? Don’t try to deceive me.” Tail B nearly broke down—he refused to believe it, absolutely refused.