Chapter 817: Cursed Wasteland

Ink Fragrance Shop, Lu Family Bookhouse.

Master Lu first brewed tea, then wine, pouring a cup of hot tea and a cup of hot wine for Li Banfeng each.

Li Banfeng sipped the hot wine first, warming his heart and stomach, then sipped the hot tea, clearing his mind.

Master Lu sighed: “Those elder masters must still be as annoying as ever.”

“No, I think they’re quite decent. Did you hear about this too?”

Master Lu pulled out a newspaper and handed it to Li Banfeng; the front-page headline read: “Heroes Gather at Ink Fragrance Shop, Who Is Really Fighting Behind the Scenes?”

“Again, the Ink Fragrance Weekly?” Li Banfeng flipped through the paper carefully. “This man Shao Ying is truly well-informed.”

“His sources weren’t always this good,” Master Lu brought out several past issues of the Ink Fragrance Weekly and highlighted several articles for Li Banfeng.

After reading these articles, Li Banfeng’s impression of Shao Ying worsened considerably.

“Heartbreaking Love” recounted the story between Li Banfeng and Chu Huaiyuan, with lavish descriptions of their bedroom intimacies—some behaviors exceeded Li Banfeng’s understanding.

“Mother and Daughter’s Blood Tears” detailed the unusual romance between Lu Chunying, Xiao Ye Ci, and Li Qi; Master Lu had specially marked one of Lu Chunying’s lines: “Xiao Ye Ci, I must kill you. If you die, I lose only my mother; if you live, I lose my love!”

“Bitter Enmity, Deep Love” described an impossible “bullshit!” between Li Banfeng and Dan Chengjun. Li Banfeng nearly tore the paper apart.

Master Lu quickly stopped him: “Young Master, I’m keeping these papers for my collection.”

“Do you really need to collect these?” Li Banfeng pointed at the articles. “You can find this trash by the handful in Heishipo.”

“Has Ink Fragrance Shop started liking this now?”

Master Lu shook his head: “Ink Fragrance Shop never liked this—not because the stories are bad, but because the writing is too crude.”

Li Banfeng corrected him: “His stories are bad too!”

Master Lu said: “Ink Fragrance Shop favors The Additive Fragrance Poems, The Embroidered Frost Collection, and The Jade Fragrance Record. Vulgar plots are acceptable, but the prose must not be this blunt.”

You’re right, Young Master—this kind of newspaper belongs in Heishipo, not Ink Fragrance Shop.

I investigated Shao Ying. He has no experience in publishing. The Ink Fragrance Weekly wasn’t originally his business.

After he took it over, he ran it for less than two months before sales plummeted, because Ink Fragrance Shop despises this kind of fabricated news.

He’s doing this out of desperation. With his current connections in Puluozhou, he can’t gather valuable news material—he’s just applying the same fabrication tactics he used in Heishipo to Ink Fragrance Shop.

But lately, his newspaper has been publishing so much real, credible content. You must think carefully about why.”

Li Banfeng placed three teacups in a circle on the tea table.

“Neizhou sent Dan Chengjun to seize Ink Fragrance Shop. Shao Ying must have received news from Neizhou to know the full story.”

Master Lu placed another teacup on the table: “With Shao Ying’s current strength, he couldn’t possibly gather intelligence from Neizhou—unless he’s already been bought by Neizhou and is working for them.”

Li Banfeng stared at the four teacups, sensing contradiction: “Neizhou ordered Dan Chengjun to act, yet also ordered Shao Ying to leak the news. What’s the point? Isn’t that sabotaging themselves?”

Master Lu tapped one of the teacups: “Shao Ying lured these elder masters to Ink Fragrance Shop. They’ll now constantly covet the position of Earth God. Perhaps that’s Neizhou’s goal.”

Ink Fragrance Shop concerns the rise and fall of Puluozhou’s literary spirit. Among these elders, there may very well be Qiao Yi’s men, trying to seize Ink Fragrance Shop for Neizhou.

Li Banfeng moved the teacups aside: “Then we must find a way to drive them away from Ink Fragrance Shop.”

Master Lu shook his head slightly: “Keeping guard every day isn’t a good solution.”

Li Banfeng returned the teacups directly to the tea set box: “What if we send all these elder masters back to their hometowns?”

Master Lu sucked on his pipe: “I’ve thought of it too. Sending them all away together is hard, but sending them off one by one isn’t so difficult.”

But I can’t remember how many elder masters there are in Puluozhou. Without careful counting, some will slip through.”

Moreover, I believe one of them is the leader. If we don’t uncover that leader, Ink Fragrance Shop will never know peace.”

Li Banfeng was also pondering this: “These ancestral masters lack the courage to provoke Dan Chengjun, yet now they dare to harass me. Someone must be backing them. Who could it be? Is it Shu Wanjuan?”

Ink Fragrance Shop, Ink Praise News Office.

Shu Wanjuan tossed the newspaper onto Shao Ying’s desk: “Was it Commander Qiao’s order to publish the details of the heroes’ meeting?”

Shao Ying nodded: “Without Commander Qiao’s command, how would I dare act on my own?”

Shu Wanjuan studied Shao Ying before him. The man’s cultivation was low—only Level Six Wu Xiu—and his influence modest, owning a few factories and news offices. He couldn’t fathom how Shao Ying had climbed into Qiao Yi’s favor.

Moreover, Shao Ying seemed to enjoy even greater trust from Qiao Yi than Shu Wanjuan did. Officially, Shao Ying was assigned to assist Shu Wanjuan, but in truth, Qiao Yi gave orders directly to Shao Ying, bypassing Shu Wanjuan entirely—this angered Shu Wanjuan deeply.

Shao Ying’s methods also irritated Shu Wanjuan. Seizing Ink Fragrance Shop was a crucial matter—why publicize it so loudly in the newspapers?

But since it was Qiao Yi’s order, Shu Wanjuan said nothing. He flipped through the paper repeatedly, and when he reached the supplement, his brow furrowed—these stories were disgustingly vulgar.

“Cut down on these disgraceful phrases. Ink Fragrance Shop isn’t Heishipo!”

Shao Ying agreed eagerly, but whether he’d actually change was another matter.

Shu Wanjuan left the news office and walked the streets of Ink Fragrance Shop.

The streets of Ink Fragrance Shop were narrow, but the buildings were elegant and refined. Today’s heavy snow made the scene even more poetic.

By the roadside stood a schoolhouse called Shuishi Mountain Hall, a two-story pavilion, where students’ synchronized recitations echoed from the upper floor.

“Xihe drives the sun; the rabbit and crow race the light. The sea of learning is boundless; a single reed can cross it.”

“White-haired sorrow—surely ignorance? The city of books has paths, yet how many twists and turns—”

Shu Wanjuan loved hearing this, because they were reciting “Encouragement to Study,” a masterful essay he had written when he first founded Ink Fragrance Shop.

Outside the schoolhouse stood a boy, about ten years old, weeping in the snow.

Shu Wanjuan approached him and asked: “Why are you crying?”

The boy held his book, looked up at Shu Wanjuan, and said: “I can’t afford a new book. I brought an old one, but the master said I recited it wrong.”

Shu Wanjuan opened the boy’s book and read “Encouragement to Study” carefully, then asked: “Where did he say you got it wrong?”

The boy pointed to a line: “The Immortals of the Purple Palace all burned oil to continue their studies; the portraits on the Lingyan Wall are merely those who chiseled through walls to steal light.”

“The master says ‘Encouragement to Study’ never had these two lines. He ordered me to cross them out immediately. I saved up for a long time to buy this old book—I didn’t dare mark it, so he punished me by making me stand outside.”

Shu Wanjuan frowned: “Take me to your master.”

The boy refused, wiping his tears: “I owe several months’ tuition. The master hasn’t pressed me. He’s right to punish me.”

Hearing this, Shu Wanjuan’s frown eased slightly.

He ascended the stairs to the second floor and wrote the character “Tired” in midair, striking the teacher.

The teacher suddenly felt overwhelming fatigue. He told the students to review on their own and went to wash his face and rest.

Back in his bedroom, he found a man seated beside his desk, dressed as a storyteller.

The teacher gasped: “Who are you? How dare you intrude into my quarters?”

Shu Wanjuan glanced at the teacher. The teacher trembled; all his thoughts surged together, then vanished instantly. His mind held only awe—nothing else.

He lowered his head, no longer daring to meet Shu Wanjuan’s gaze.

Shu Wanjuan spoke slowly: “The Immortals of the Purple Palace all burned oil to continue their studies; the portraits on the Lingyan Wall are merely those who chiseled through walls to steal light.”

These two lines are indeed the original text of ‘Encouragement to Study.’ Later copyists made errors, causing the current version to be incomplete. You made a judgment without verification—you deserve punishment!”

He picked up the ruler and struck the teacher twice on the head.

After striking him, Shu Wanjuan added: “You care not for personal gain, yet you transmit knowledge and guide students—you are a blessing to poor scholars. This honors the very purpose for which I founded Ink Fragrance Shop—you deserve reward!”

Shu Wanjuan pulled out a book, emptied a wooden box from its pages, and placed it on the table.

The teacher heard every word clearly. When he heard “founded Ink Fragrance Shop,” he realized he stood before an extraordinary person.

He dared not breathe, dared not speak. He didn’t know whether to look up or keep his head down.

After a long wait, he finally dared to raise his head—but the room was empty. Only the box of silver coins remained on the table.

Shu Wanjuan sat in a teahouse by the street, sipping tea with Bloodfang Demon. Just then, the demonic cultivation master Chang Jiuhai passed by, surrounded by numerous ghost servants.

Several ghost servants entered the schoolhouse. Shu Wanjuan gripped his teacup, frowning: “What exactly are they trying to do?”

Bloodfang Demon chuckled: “What? You’re worried?”

Shu Wanjuan shook his head: “They’re acting so openly—they’ll draw the Peddler’s attention.”

Bloodfang Demon set his teacup aside, ate a candied fruit, and stared at Shu Wanjuan: “Second King, don’t think I can’t see through you. When Old Dan wanted to take over this business, you kept refusing. I know you still have feelings for Ink Fragrance Shop.”

Shu Wanjuan said nothing.

Bloodfang Demon continued: “How much feeling you have doesn’t matter to me. Now that Old Dan is dead, I don’t care either. I just want to be a queen—living with anyone is the same.”

We’re trading Ink Fragrance Shop for those thirteen territories, then declaring ourselves kings. Don’t forget that.”

As for what these people are doing, it’s none of our concern. If they overstep, when the Peddler comes, we can use them as shields. Isn’t that perfect?”

Shu Wanjuan looked at Bloodfang Demon: “Qiao Yi gave orders to Shao Ying without involving me. This Ink Fragrance Shop assignment is no longer mine alone.”

Bloodfang Demon laughed: “Why care about assignments? Just manage the business. Whoever holds Ink Fragrance Shop holds the capital. As long as Qiao Yi’s price doesn’t change, our deal still stands.”

Shu Wanjuan gazed at the snow, murmuring softly: “How many people has he promised this price to—”

Qiao Yi studied the documents sent from Puluozhou, his expression complex.

He was nine-tenths satisfied, yet still felt something was lacking.

“Has the Peddler still not appeared in Ink Fragrance Shop?”

Nian Shangyou answered truthfully: “No trace of the Peddler has been found yet.”

Qiao Yi picked up his brush, intending to draft a document, but after a moment’s thought, rinsed the tip and laid it on the brush rest.

The Peddler’s absence from Ink Fragrance Shop didn’t change Qiao Yi’s strategy.

Nian Shangyou also found it strange: What was the Peddler doing, ignoring Ink Fragrance Shop?

In Hulucun, A Yi wiped sweat from her brow and said to the Peddler: “Don’t rush. Go slower.”

The Peddler held a snow cream bottle in his left hand and a probe in his right, his hands trembling: “How can I go any slower?”

“Just extract a tiny bit. Don’t take too much—it’ll be harder to distinguish.”

The Peddler picked out a speck of black shadow, no larger than a needle tip, and placed it into A Yi’s glass bottle.

The black speck slowly wriggled inside the bottle. A Yi quickly sealed it and told the Peddler: “Wait here. Don’t flirt with my wife!”

The Peddler glanced at Qiu Luoye, pressed his lips together, and said nothing for a long while.

A Yi carried a food box and the glass bottle up to the clouds, using the meal delivery as an excuse to hand the bottle to A Yu. A Yu studied it for a long time, then said to A Yi: “Correct. This is the Xuanyuan Silkworm—identical to the one the Peddler gave you last time.”

A Yi thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Big sister, you must’ve mistaken it. The last time the peddler brought over the Xuanyuan silkworms, they were much larger than this one.”

A Yu stared for a while longer: “This Xuanyuan silkworm is trapped by a special technique—it can’t grow. Once you remove the technique and place it in a Xuanyuan land, where it can feed, it’ll quickly grow to the size of a finger.”

A Yi scratched her scalp. “What’s a Xuanyuan land?”

A Yu snapped: “Ask the peddler. I’m hungry!”

She opened the food box; inside were lamb leg and sauced noodles.

A Yu frowned. “Why lamb leg again? You eat this every day—it’s so greasy. Can’t you change it up?”

A Yi got angry. “You’re a half-dead ghost. How can you be so picky about food?”

A Yu smiled gently, lifted one leg, and carried A Yi outside the house.

A Yi flew out of the second floor and landed on the ground. After getting up and brushing off the dirt, she yelled at the house: “Shrew! Starve you for three days—you’ll find anything delicious!”

Back under the clouds, A Yi relayed the message exactly as she’d heard it to the peddler.

The peddler shook the snow cream bottle. “It really is a Xuanyuan silkworm. Each one’s no bigger than a pinhead—how many are hidden inside the Great Totem?”

Earlier, the peddler had harvested a large patch of shadow from the center of the Great Totem. If all of it consisted of Xuanyuan silkworms, the number was truly incalculable.

A Yi was curious: “What exactly is a Xuanyuan silkworm? And what’s a Xuanyuan land?”

The peddler explained: “When Pulu Province first formed, it was all Xuanyuan land. Only later, through gradual refinement, did these various territories emerge. Today, Xuanyuan land still exists in Pulu Province—but it’s extremely rare.”

“Xuanyuan silkworms grow in Xuanyuan land. I can’t say exactly where they come from, but they cause some disturbance to cultivation bases.”

A Yi asked: “What kind of disturbance?”

The peddler thought carefully: “From what I know, when someone eats a Xuanyuan silkworm, fifty percent experience slight fluctuations in their cultivation base, but the change is minor. Twenty percent see noticeable gains. Thirty percent suffer noticeable losses.”

“A very few lose their entire cultivation base. And an even rarer few experience a sudden, explosive leap.”

A Yi blinked. “What do you mean by ‘explosive leap’?”

“I heard of someone whose cultivation base jumped from Earth Skin to Cloud Top in a short time.”

A Yi snatched the snow cream bottle. “Then let me try it!”

The peddler snatched it back. “Why would you try this?”

A Yi looked wounded. “I’ve done so much for you—can’t you give me even a taste of the reward? Didn’t you say it could cause an explosive leap?”

The peddler sighed helplessly. “Didn’t you hear any of what I just said? Only an extremely rare few experience explosive leaps. Do you think you’re one of them?”

A Yi objected. “Even if I’m not, my wife might be.”

The peddler tucked the snow cream bottle away. “Forget this idea. People like that are one in ten thousand—how easy do you think it is to find one?”

Qin Xiaopang arrived at the Ink Fragrance Shop and delivered Liang Wucai to Li Banfeng’s residence.

Liang Wu was delighted to see Li Banfeng. “Seventh Master, I thought you’d forgotten us sisters.”

Liang Cai looked gloomy. “Forgetting would be better. Every time I see you, endless sorrow wells up inside me.”

Li Banfeng frowned. “Where’s all this sorrow coming from? Didn’t I make you both Imperial Grand Empresses? Are you still unhappy?”

Liang Wu glared at Liang Cai, then turned to Li Banfeng. “Seventh Master, ignore him. We’ve had a good time these days, and we’ve always remembered your kindness.”

As she spoke, Liang Wu gazed at Li Banfeng with tender affection, wanting to embrace him—but Liang Cai stood frozen, motionless.

Their bodies were joined; since Liang Cai didn’t move, Liang Wu could only fume helplessly. The sisters were locked in silent struggle when Qin Tianjiu cleared his throat awkwardly: “Seventh Brother, I’ve brought all the members of San Ying Gate. If anything happens, we’ll tell you right away. I’ll go take a walk around town.”

Xiao Pang left. Li Banfeng asked Liang Wu and Cai: “Are you real sisters?”

Liang Cai burst into tears. “I told you—he’s a faithless man. He never remembers anything we’ve said.”

Liang Wu also looked disappointed. “Seventh Master, we did tell you this before. We weren’t sisters originally. After death, our souls drifted through the world as wandering ghosts. When we reached the New Land, we grew together.”

“Which New Land did you go to? Why did you grow together?”

Li Banfeng had never asked this before—he didn’t like prying into others’ secrets.

But today, he had to know. This matter was critical.

Liang Wu and Cai didn’t want to speak of it—especially Liang Cai, who stared out the window, trying to change the subject: “The snow today is so heavy—pure flakes are cleansing my soul.”

Li Banfeng said nothing, only watched the sisters quietly.

After a long silence, Liang Wu finally spoke: “This place can’t be mentioned lightly. To speak of it invites death. But since Seventh Master asks, you must have urgent reason.”

Li Banfeng nodded. “Indeed, it’s urgent.”

Liang Cai asked: “If speaking of it costs us our lives, will you still ask?”

Li Banfeng said: “I will guarantee your safety.”

Liang Wu bit her lip. “If we truly die because of this, Seventh Master, please don’t forget us.”

“Wait!” Li Banfeng silently dropped a drop of blood, forming an invisible boundary around the sisters.

Within the boundary, he activated the High Pillow Without Worry technique. If anything happened, he was certain he could save the two sisters.

Liang Wu began: “After I died, my soul drifted to the New Land—but ended up somewhere that didn’t feel like the New Land. That’s where I met Liang Cai.”

Liang Cai continued: “I arrived a few days before Liang Wu. I felt this place was the fabled Old Soil—it was vast.”

“But the population was extremely sparse.”

Li Banfeng asked: “Did this place have a name?”

Liang Wu said: “It’s called Zhugu Xu. Some living people dwell there, calling each other sisters.”

Liang Cai added: “Our souls were trapped in Zhugu Xu. They placed curses on us, forcing us to become sisters. They remade our bodies—fusing the two of us into one, as we are now.”

“They gave us a name: Liang Wucai—”

Mid-sentence, Liang Cai began coughing violently, as if something had choked her throat.

The sisters weren’t lying—they truly couldn’t speak of that place.

Lai Wujue must have faced the same problem. She wouldn’t even mention her sister.

Li Banfeng opened Jin Qing Qiuhao, pried open Liang Cai’s mouth, and saw a worm wriggling on her throat.

He ordered his glove to extract it. The glove tried twice, then replied: “Master, this worm is too agile. If I force it, it burrows deeper into flesh—I can’t get a clean grip.”

In any other place, the sisters would already be dead.

But they were within Li Banfeng’s boundary, where he had activated the High Pillow Without Worry technique—he was the master here.

He took one small step forward. The sisters froze like clay statues, motionless.

This was the Self-Imposed Stagnation technique—perfectly controlled, causing no harm to the sisters.

The worm inside the throat couldn’t chew through Liang Cai’s flesh and tried to wriggle down the esophagus.

Li Banfeng exerted the authority of the Master of the Household. Under his command, the worm stiffened. The glove easily plucked it out.

The worm was entirely black, the size of the glove’s index finger, with no distinguishing features.

Li Banfeng studied it for a moment. The stiffened worm twitched, trying to bite him. He rolled it into a ball and handed it to the old teapot for disposal.

After a long time, the sisters recovered from the Self-Imposed Stagnation technique. They breathed deeply, finding no further abnormalities in their bodies.

Liang Cai rubbed her throat. “Are we still alive?”

Liang Wu exhaled deeply. “I knew—so long as Seventh Master is here, he’d break that curse.”

Li Banfeng thought about the worm’s appearance. “Was that a curse or a Gu technique?”

The sisters shook their heads. They couldn’t tell—the two Daoist arts were extremely rare in Pulu Province.

Li Banfeng asked: “In Zhugu Xu, everyone calls each other sisters. Are there no men there?”

Liang Wu said: “We never saw any men while we were in Zhugu Xu.”

Lai Wujue had told Li Banfeng she had a sister with similar talents, sharing one character in her name.

She’d also told him Li Banfeng had met sisters like them—born in the same place, following the same tradition, using the same character.

Liang Wucai, Lai Wujue, and another: Hen Wuyou.

It seemed Li Banfeng had found the right people.

“How did you escape Zhugu Xu?”

Liang Cai said: “We escaped in a dream. A very beautiful woman appeared and showed us the way out.”

Liang Wu added: “That woman said she’d come back for us, promised to give us a home. But we never saw her again. Later, Qiu Ye took us in—we stayed on his territory.”

“A dream? A beautiful woman?” Li Banfeng pondered long. “Could it be Meng Qian?”

Shang State, Bozhou.

Cui Ti walked along an empty street into the Second City.

Bozhou’s structure resembled Chaoge overall: the First City housed many factories; the Second City, many workshops.

Now both factories and workshops had shut down, as Bozhou’s population had dwindled.

But this ceramic workshop in the Second City was unusual. Though no one was visible inside, Cui Ti could still sense faint traces of life.

He entered the workshop and walked slowly toward the back courtyard.

A sudden, overwhelming weariness struck him, forcing him to stop.

“Your Excellency, this is just a small business—nothing worth investigating. Please go elsewhere.”

Cui Ti recognized the voice: “Meng Nüshi, in Chaoge, I never entered Meng Qian Tower. I believe I’ve shown you due consideration.”

Meng Qian replied: “I am deeply grateful for Your Excellency’s consideration.”

Cui Ti looked at the workshop. “But I can’t keep showing you favor. I am an Imperial Envoy—I must fulfill my duty.”

Meng Qian understood his meaning: “I cannot ask for your favor without offering something in return. Name your price—I am willing to pay.”

“Price?” Cui Ti thought of his current situation. “I want a dream. A dream that will save my life.”

Meng Qian fell silent for a long time. “Your Excellency, given your current situation, this is very difficult. I can only do my best.”