Chapter 203: The First Gate Under Heaven

Through thick fog, two figures moved swiftly.

The hunter Sun Tiecheng walked quickly, covering over seventy li in half a day, but that was still far from the pace of a third-layer Traveling Cultivator.

"Are you really a Traveling Cultivator?" Li Banfeng grew impatient.

Sun Tiecheng answered honestly: "Sir, we can't walk too fast—if we do, we won't find the Old Land."

"Why is that?"

"I can't explain the reason clearly, but I know this path must be walked slowly to find the gate of the Old Land."

The Old Land has a gate?

Li Banfeng grew increasingly curious.

After another half-day's walk, the thick fog gradually thinned, and ahead, a city faintly emerged.

Unlike Green Water City, this was not a modern town—it was an ancient city, with walls, battlements, and a gate tower.

Sun Tiecheng said: "Sir, this is Fisherman City. Pass through Fisherman City, keep heading south, and you'll reach Iron Sheep Mountain."

"Fisherman City? Are there many fishermen here?"

"Not that 'fish'—it's the other 'fish.' I can't read, so I don't know how to say it."

A city suddenly appeared in the boundless wasteland. Li Banfeng felt uneasy—this city gave him a bad feeling, as if danger awaited him.

Avoiding misfortune and seeking fortune is the foundation of a Traveling Cultivator's survival.

Li Banfeng told Sun Tiecheng: "We're not entering the city. We'll go around it."

"Can't go around—it's easy to get lost."

Li Banfeng stared at Sun Tiecheng in surprise: "Have you been to Iron Sheep Mountain before?"

"Yes."

"You're a Traveling Cultivator—you've walked this path before, and you still get lost?"

"Yes, you can get lost. This city is cursed—you must pass straight through it; there's no way around."

Li Banfeng grew even more puzzled: "Even if we walk right along the wall, we still can't go around?"

Sun Tiecheng looked troubled: "Sir, you paid me, so I wouldn't dare lie to you. This city truly can't be bypassed. If you don't believe me, I'll return your money."

"No need," Li Banfeng waved his hand. "Let's enter."

Inside the city gate, Li Banfeng looked around.

Indeed, the city was sizable—streets were wide, paved with stone slabs, and buildings stood shoulder to shoulder, though years of neglect had left them dilapidated.

Though the buildings were ruined, there were many people: strollers wandered the streets, vendors sold goods by the roadside, shops stood open, and people came and went.

The Old Land became "old" because the land lost its vital energy; according to his wife's words, within a hundred li, there weren't even a hundred people.

But why were there so many here?

To others, this would be incomprehensible—but Li Banfeng found nothing strange, because these people glowed faintly green.

Precisely speaking, they weren't people—they were ghosts.

The entire city was filled with wandering souls, just as Ma Wu had said: they thought of themselves as living, completely lacking the caution and taboos of true spirits.

These ghosts differed from those Li Banfeng usually saw—their flesh and blood appeared real and intact, almost comparable to the flesh of Earth Deities.

Were they all Earth Deities?

Impossible!

They lacked that aura of authority.

Then where did this flesh come from?

Could it be due to long-term residence in the Old Land?

As they walked down the street, they heard someone shouting nearby:

"Pain is pain, injury is injury, blood and qi flow like a great river. Minor pain turns to illness, minor wounds turn to sores from heat!"

What was this?

Approaching, they saw a man carrying a box, hawking medicine to a crowd:

"This is my ancestral secret formula, specially for treating lower back and leg pain and injuries.

Each patch contains twenty-one herbs—no pearls, no ginseng, no buffalo gallstones—just cheap herbs.

Folk remedies cure serious illnesses; herbs outwit famous doctors. Our medicine isn't expensive—two yuan per patch. Severe cases need two patches; mild ones need just one."

Li Banfeng smiled: "This man's interesting."

Indeed—he was selling ointments to ghosts.

Do ghosts even need ointments? Would they even work?

Perhaps they really would work for these ghosts with complete, intact flesh.

Sun Tiecheng muttered beside him: "Sir, this guy's a 'chao pi'—a 'lu ken han.' All frauds. Not worth watching."

"Chao pi" was underworld slang for traveling medicine peddlers.

"Lu ken han" meant ointment seller—because in old times, ointments had to be warmed over fire before application.

Such street hucksters were never genuine—but Li Banfeng hadn't expected that even after becoming a ghost, this man still used these tricks to deceive.

Yet the buyers were all ghosts too—Li Banfeng wanted to see how ghosts tricked ghosts.

The man glanced at Sun Tiecheng, then shouted: "Someone just called me a fraud. We've never met—how do you know?

I'm an honest man: I honor my parents at home, make friends everywhere, and value my reputation. Hearing your words, I'm deeply offended.

I'll keep my face, I'll fight for my honor. Today, to spread my name, I give it all away—free!"

Free?

Li Banfeng stroked his chin, watching intently.

How do you cheat if you give it away?

Sun Tiecheng urged: "Sir, don't watch—he's 'yuan nianzi'—a stage trick. Just a street scam."

Li Banfeng refused to leave.

The man continued: "My herbs are cheap, but they cost me money. I can't give one to everyone here.

I have ten tickets—I'll toss them, you pick them up. Whoever catches one gets a free patch. Someone catches, someone doesn't."

The man began tossing paper tickets—Li Banfeng actually caught one.

Lucky break!

Let's see how he wriggles out of this.

The man added: "Yesterday, someone took one of my patches, got home, thought it was free, didn't care, and threw it away.

Gentlemen are easy to deal with, but rogues are hard to guard against. Whoever got a patch, please give me one yuan as cost."

Li Banfeng called out: "Didn't you say it was free? Now you want money?"

The man replied: "Brother, you're right—we must keep our word. Spitting gives a nail. I said free, so it's free.

One yuan covers the cost of one patch—I'll give you another one free. If it doesn't work, come back for a refund. If it works, spread my name."

Li Banfeng shook his head—this trick to swindle money? Who'd believe it?

…

Five minutes later, Li Banfeng held two patches and walked on with Sun Tiecheng.

"Sir, I told you he's a fraud—why'd you fall for it?"

"No problem. One yuan isn't much—just for fun. My legs have been aching these past two days."

Li Banfeng's legs really did ache—not from injury, but because his Residence Cultivator level suppressed his Traveling Cultivator base.

Then what use were these patches?

Well, he bought them.

Not far ahead, an old man was shouting: "Few come for readings today, but many fates are written on faces.

Yin-yang shifts are endless; all under heaven lies in one palm. One glance, and I see the signs:

Someone's family suffered misfortune, someone spoke ill behind others' backs, someone came seeking revenge—bloodshed hangs over their faces!"

Li Banfeng stopped.

What did he mean?

Was he talking about me?

Sun Tiecheng whispered: "This one's a 'tiao jin men'—a fortune-teller. Also a fraud. Don't fall for it."

Li Banfeng didn't stop—he kept walking. Soon, the old man followed.

"Young man, I won't take your money. I chased you half a street just to warn you:

Today, you face dire misfortune. Put off your revenge. Grudges have a source, debts have a master. Heaven's law moves in cycles—don't rush now!"

Li Banfeng stared at the old man a long while, then pulled a hundred Huan Kingdom notes from his pocket and pressed them into the man's hand.

The old man sighed: "Young man, I'll take this. Your face shows kindness. Let me teach you a way to break the curse:

Stay in the city tonight—don't leave. Tomorrow, come back to me for another reading. Then I'll tell you how to handle it."

With that, the old man left.

Sun Tiecheng stamped his foot in frustration: "Sir, why'd you fall for that again?"

Li Banfeng thought deeply: "He was surprisingly accurate."

"Let's not waste time here—I'll get you to Iron Sheep Mountain fast."

Li Banfeng waved his hand: "We won't climb the mountain tonight. I'll stay in the city. We'll decide tomorrow."

"You really believe him? I won't stay here!" Sun Tiecheng shook his head. "Sir, I've said all I can. Tomorrow, leave the city south—you'll see Iron Sheep Mountain."

Li Banfeng gave Sun Tiecheng another twenty silver dollars—fifty in total—as payment.

Sun Tiecheng pursed his lips: "Sir, you're a good man. Since you insist on staying in town, I'll take you to Youlai Inn—it doesn't cheat customers."

Li Banfeng followed Sun Tiecheng to the inn. The shopkeeper's face glowed green—he wasn't of the living world—but the price was fair: eighty-one coins a night, with a private room.

That night, Li Banfeng checked in.

Not long after he settled in, the shopkeeper glanced at the waiter beside him and ordered: "Go to the back courtyard, gather the boys, grab your tools, and set the table!"

The waiter whispered: "Set the table now? Shouldn't we wait until he's asleep?"

The shopkeeper snarled: "Pfft! You want me to wait while you strike first and gobble up the meat while it's hot? Do you think I can't see through your scheming?"

"Master, what are you saying? I'm thinking of you—wait till he's asleep, then we act. It'll be safer."

"Enough nonsense. Get them now!"

The waiter reluctantly headed to the back courtyard, ready to summon the laborers, farmhands, and cook.

But those few had already sharpened their knives and were preparing to climb through the windows.

The waiter shouted angrily: "You heartless bastards! Without the master's order, you're already planning to sneak a bite? No discipline at all!"

The cook clapped her hand over his mouth: "What are you yelling for? We're worried the brat might trick us—we're just scouting ahead for the master."

The waiter shoved her away and waved his hand: "Come with me—to the main hall. The master's waiting. We'll act together."

In the main hall, everyone looked around—but the shopkeeper was gone.

The laborer asked: "Where's the master?"

The waiter shook his head: "I don't know. He told me to come here."

The farmhand stamped his foot in fury: "That old bastard—he sent you away so he could eat alone!"

They stormed upstairs to Li Banfeng's door—only to find it locked.

The shopkeeper wasn't here?

The cook smiled. Good. Let's strike first.

The farmhand kicked the door open and lunged to pin down the target.

The laborer threw a large blanket over the figure.

The waiter barked: "Chop!"

The cook stepped forward and slashed down.

The shopkeeper screamed: "What the hell are you chopping me for?!"

The laborer unfurled the blanket—and found the shopkeeper inside.

The waiter stared in shock: "Master, how did you get up here first? We agreed to move together!"

The shopkeeper's face remained calm: "I came ahead to scout. Which bastard just chopped me?"

The farmhand pointed at the cook: "She did! The knife's still in her hand!"

The cook protested: "This knife only cuts the living—it can't harm the dead. Even if it did, they wouldn't feel pain."

"No pain? You're lying to ghosts! Am I not made of flesh?!" The shopkeeper rubbed his back for a long time. "You say it doesn't hurt? Try letting me chop you once!"

The shopkeeper raised his knife to kill the cook. The waiter said: "Master, where's the guest?"

The shopkeeper held the knife, thinking hard.

He hadn't seen the man since he entered. Where had he gone?

…

Li Banfeng hadn't gone anywhere. He'd placed the key on the rafters and remained inside his personal dwelling.

In his hand, he held two medicinal plasters, sitting quietly before the phonograph.

"Hey, husband, what's that sticky stuff in your hand? So disgusting."

Li Banfeng said: "Bought it on the street. For leg pain."

"Does your leg hurt?"

"A little."

"Use this to treat it?" The phonograph couldn't believe it. "Husband, you're sometimes foolish, but you're still smart—how did you fall for such a trick?"

"I didn't just fall for the skin-dealer's trick—I fell for the Golden Gate's trick too. But it didn't cost much, and I'm not short on money." Li Banfeng tossed the plasters aside.

He truly wasn't short on money—but now he was short on wit.

Li Banfeng looked at the phonograph and spoke slowly: "Wife, I don't know what's wrong with me. Since entering the city, my mind has grown dull—I believe everything others say."

"What city?"

"Fisherman's City."

"On the Old Soil?"

Li Banfeng nodded: "Yes, on the Old Soil. I thought there'd be many fishermen—turns out there are more con artists."

"Hey, husband, that's not 'fish' as in 'fisherman'—it's 'fool' as in 'deceive.' You've entered Fool's City—you've met the Fool Cult!"

"The Fool Cult? There's such a sect? And it's that powerful?"

"Husband, the Fool Cult was once the number one sect in the world. At the same level, no one could match them."

PS: The Fool Cult was the number one sect?

Did other sects accept that?

(End of Chapter)