Chapter 1

Huff! Huff!

A pitch-black locomotive spewed white steam as it raced along the rails.

Clatter! Clatter!

The crankshaft pulled the connecting rods, spinning the wheels rapidly, rhythmically striking the gaps between the rails.

Whooo!

A whistle blew.

A five-car train passed through a tunnel, traveled through the valley, and headed toward the vast wilderness of Pulu Province.

In the third car, a beautiful woman sat before a dressing table, painting her eyebrows.

Why was there a dressing table in the car?

Why was she applying makeup inside the car?

She didn’t just apply makeup in the car—she could dance in it too.

Because she was the only person in this car.

She was Zhuo Yuling, the second concubine of Lu Dongliang, head of the Lu family.

This train was the private locomotive of the Lu family, a powerful clan of Pulu Province.

Now, she was its mistress.

The first car carried coal.

The second car held luggage and onboard supplies.

The third car was divided into a corridor and two guest rooms.

The fourth car was the dining room and card room.

The fifth car was the master’s bedroom.

Zhuo Yuling styled her hair into finger waves, wore heavy eyeshadow but light blush, her pale cheeks accentuating her vivid red lips.

She wore a dark blue indigo high-collared qipao, its hem just above the knees, with slits revealing lace trim of her undergarment; her slender waist and slightly padded shoulders exuded a seductive elegance.

Zhuo Yuling was nearing forty, yet her refined attire and makeup made her appear no older than thirty.

Squeak~

The car door opened, and Lu Dongliang’s figure appeared beneath the pale yellow wall lamp.

The fine wrinkles around his mouth lifted with his mole, and in the mirror, Zhuo Yuling smiled sweetly.

Zhuo Yuling disliked wearing shoes; barefoot, she walked across the dark yellow floral carpet to stand before Lu Dongliang and called softly, “Master.”

Lu Dongliang, over fifty, pinched her cheek, always feeling she was as charming as the day he first met her—she always offered him a sliver of comfort.

But only a sliver.

Weary, Lu Dongliang shed his suit, unbuttoned his vest, loosened his tie, and sat on the sofa, opening a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a glass.

After half the drink, his gloom settled visibly on his face, and he couldn’t help sighing.

Zhuo Yuling sat beside Lu Dongliang, pulled a cigarette from a metal case, placed it between her red lips, struck a match, lit it, and offered it to his mouth: “Master, what troubles you?”

Lu Dongliang took the cigarette and drew a deep drag: “He Jiaqing returns tomorrow. Just now, while playing cards with his elder aunt He Yuxiu, I heard her tone—she wants to break off the engagement with Xiaolan.”

He Jiaqing was the legitimate son of the powerful He family of Pulu Province.

Lu Xiaolan was the daughter of Zhuo Yuling and Lu Dongliang.

Had the He family not declined in recent years, their legitimate son would never have married a concubine-born daughter of the Lu family.

Zhuo Yuling smiled coolly: “Master, didn’t we already discuss this? Xiaolan won’t let He Jiaqing return to Pulu alive.”

Lu Dongliang bit the cigarette, frowning: “That boy of the He family is gifted and carries the Xuan Sheng Honglian—he’s no easy opponent. I worry about Xiaolan...”

Zhuo Yuling shook her head: “Master overthinks. That He boy is a mediocrity—wasting his prime years not cultivating, instead running off to Huan Country to study for four full years, squandering his time. What did he gain?”

Lu Dongliang stroked his mustache: “Young men are easily distracted. But once he takes over the He family’s affairs...”

Zhuo Yuling rose and walked to the phonograph: “Those who can’t control their whims are mediocrities. Mediocrities who hold priceless treasures deserve to die. Once he boards this train, he’s dead.”

The phonograph stood a foot taller than the nightstand, its top holding three golden horns—one large, two small.

Zhuo Yuling picked up a metal cup and poured two cups of water into the left small horn’s opening.

Lu Dongliang looked at Zhuo Yuling: “I heard the young master of the Jiangxiang Gang also wants the Honglian. He holds status in Huan Country—he’s no easy target.”

Zhuo Yuling sneered: “You mean Xiao Zhenggong? That fool isn’t even a mediocrity—he’s a cockroach, a disgusting cockroach.”

If not for his father’s name, Xiao Zhenggong would’ve been crushed long ago. With his pitiful schemes, how could he possibly match Xiaolan?”

Zhuo Yuling bent down, opened the phonograph’s cabinet, and lit the wick stuck into a tub of solidified grease inside a metal box.

Whoosh!

A pale blue flame ignited, and soon, a wisp of white mist spewed from the left horn.

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

This was a steam-powered phonograph.

Pulu Province was unique—fuel couldn’t be stored in bulk, electricity couldn’t be used on a large scale, and steam engines were pushed to their limits.

The phonograph’s turntable, driven by gears, began rotating as steam spewed forth.

Zhuo Yuling placed a shellac record onto the turntable.

Lu Dongliang extinguished his cigarette, leaned back on the sofa: “I’m not doubting Xiaolan—I’m just worried...”

“Master doubts Xiaolan,” Zhuo Yuling sighed helplessly. “Since the day I gave birth to her, you’ve never once looked at her properly.”

As she spoke, Zhuo Yuling placed the needle on the record.

Amid fine static, a lush cello prelude began.

After the prelude, piano joined violin, laying a slow, steady rhythm, followed by a deep, resonant voice:

Moon~light~ is so hazy.

The~earth~ is veiled in night mist.

My beloved in my dreams,

Where~are~you?

“Dream Lover,” Zhuo Yuling’s favorite song.

No electricity, no magnetic discs—this ancient phonograph needed only the friction of needle and record.

Zhuo Yuling stepped forward, pulled Lu Dongliang up from the sofa, buried her head in his chest, wrapped her arms around him, and danced slowly to the beautiful melody.

Lu Dongliang held her waist, still frowning: “If He Jiaqing dies, won’t the Xuan Sheng Honglian be lost in Huan Country?”

Zhuo Yuling frowned slightly—she didn’t want to discuss such trivialities now: “Xiaolan has already confirmed: He Jiaqing has a friend named Li Banfeng. Use him to find the Honglian. After killing He Jiaqing, Xiaolan will track down Li Banfeng—she’ll have no trouble bringing the Honglian back.”

Lu Dongliang hadn’t quite caught it: “You said He Jiaqing’s friend—what was his name again?”

Lu Dongliang didn’t quite catch it: “You just said He Jiaqing’s friend—what was his name again?”

“Half-crazy?” Lu Dongliang blinked. “Strange name.”

Zhuo Yuling smiled: “Master doesn’t need to remember his name. It’s unimportant. Once Xiaolan learns the Honglian’s whereabouts, this man won’t exist anymore.”

“What kind of person is he? Another mediocrity?” Lu Dongliang was cautious, fearing any misstep.

Zhuo Yuling sneered: “He’s not even a mediocrity. He’s not even a person.”

Lu Dongliang stroked Zhuo Yuling’s hair: “So he’s like Xiao Zhenggong—a cockroach?”

Zhuo Yuling shook her head: “Less than a cockroach. Lower than dirt.”

Lu Dongliang grew more curious: “What kind of person is he?”

“How do I describe him?” Zhuo Yuling hesitated.

A wisp of black ash drifted from the phonograph’s oil tank and landed on Lu Dongliang’s collar.

The phonograph’s filter needed cleaning.

Zhuo Yuling wiped the ash from Lu Dongliang’s collar with her fingertip, stared at the black residue, and smiled faintly: “He’s as worthless as this speck of dust—no parents, no relatives, nothing. He grew up in an orphanage, surviving by hauling bricks, carrying heavy loads, selling goods on street stalls—only then did he get into university. Someone like him—dead, he’s gone. Like blowing away this dust. No one cares.”

With that, Zhuo Yuling exhaled gently, dispersing the ash from her fingertip.

He grew up in an orphanage, surviving by hauling bricks, carrying heavy loads, and selling goods on street stalls until he got into university,

Someone like this, dead is dead—like blowing away dust—no one would care.

The train lurched.

Lu Dongliang’s dance steps remained steady—this was the foundation of a Traveling Cultivator.

Fine down sprouted on Zhuo Yuling’s soles, gripping the carpet firmly.

This was the innate talent of a Body Cultivator.

After the jolt, the two resumed their embrace, dancing on.

A fine layer of down sprouted beneath Zhuo Yuling’s feet, gripping the carpet beneath her.

The next day.

Huan Country, Yuedong Province, Yuezhou City, Yuezhou University, Dormitory Six, Room 606.

Li Banfeng lay on his bunk, napping.

In his dream, he sailed his yacht with a group of young women, the sea breeze blowing.

The Best Actress of last year’s Jin Yuandan Award pulled Li Banfeng’s hand into the yacht’s bedroom...

Li Banfeng, clutching his pillow, drooled clear saliva, ready to reach life’s peak in his dream—when suddenly, a voice called beside his ear:

In his dream, he sailed his yacht, surrounded by a group of young women, the sea breeze brushing over them.

The best actress from the previous Jin Yuan Award pulled Li Banfeng’s hand into the yacht’s bedroom…

Li Banfeng, hugging a pillow, dribbled clear drool as he prepared to reach the peak of his life in sleep, when suddenly he heard a voice calling beside his ear:

“Banfeng, save me.”

PS: Dear readers, salad is served—the most conscientious writer has arrived!

"The Dreamer" is a famous song from the Republic of China era; it was used as a background track in Stephen Chow's film "Kung Fu Hustle," where the Landlord and Landlady danced together to it.

Dear readers, invest quickly in the new book—Banfeng will surely not disappoint you.

(End of Chapter)