Chapter 23

The other side grunted, raised his staff again, and Liu Xiaolou flipped sideways a dozen feet in the blink of an eye, flicked his wrist, and the misty silk tendon revealed its tip, ready to fight to the death.

Seeing Liu Xiaolou escape, the opponent freed his right hand, transforming it into a palm; in the dark night, his single palm shimmered faintly, emitting a glow that resembled a celestial crane, wings spread as if about to take flight.

“I’ll knock you senseless in the dark!”

At that moment, Zuo Gaofeng, suspended in the net, shouted loudly: “Tan Bazhang!”

This loud cry instantly halted the fierce battle; Liu Xiaolou froze, staring at the man, who also froze, leaping three steps to the side, leaning slightly forward, staring back and forth between Liu Xiaolou and Zuo Gaofeng in the net.

“It’s me, Zuo Gaofeng! You’re fighting Liu Xiongdi—Liu Xiaolou of the Three Profound Gates!”

“Oh no!” The man slapped his forehead, dropped his iron rod, tore off the black cloth covering his face, rushed over to lower the net, and kept muttering: “My apologies, my apologies—floodwaters washed over the Dragon King’s temple!”

As he pulled off the cloth, Liu Xiaolou recognized him—it was Tan Bazhang, the man he’d met once before.

That one encounter, too, had come through Wei Hongqing; this man was another victim of Wei Hongqing’s wanderings, and the two of them had once cursed together on Ghost Dream Cliff!

Zuo Gaofeng stepped out of the net, curious: “Tan brother, what are you doing in Mount Wuling?”

Tan Bazhang looked embarrassed: “I planned a long journey, but got robbed on the road—my funds vanished for no reason, so I thought this mountain might be a good place to do business. Who knew my first deal would be with two brothers? Oh, forgive me, forgive me!”

He then came over to Liu Xiaolou and apologized again: “Brother, you’re magnanimous—don’t hold my clumsiness against me!”

Liu Xiaolou could only smile bitterly: “No harm done, no harm done.”

Tan Bazhang extended a thumb: “Brother, your skills are impressive! My entire cultivation’s power in that strike was effortlessly blocked by you—truly admirable!”

Liu Xiaolou’s wrist still trembled—he couldn’t call it “effortless”—but since he didn’t know Tan Bazhang well, he dared not show weakness, and merely said coolly: “Too kind, too kind!”

Zuo Gaofeng, however, knew Tan Bazhang slightly better, chatted casually for a while, and asked where he was headed; Tan Bazhang said his several cousins in Yuanling had summoned him, and he was rushing to meet them. As for what the matter was—that was family business, so Zuo Gaofeng didn’t press.

But since Tan Bazhang had lost his funds, and fellow cultivators had the duty to share resources, Zuo Gaofeng pulled out ten taels of silver and gave them to him; Tan Bazhang didn’t refuse, slipping them into his robe.

Zuo Gaofeng said: “This mountain is full of insects, snakes, and beasts, and bandits lurk along the roads. It’s not safe for you to travel alone—why not join us as we leave the mountain?”

Tan Bazhang immediately nodded: “Damn right—there are too many bandits on this road. Traveling with you two? I’d be delighted!”

Thus the three laughed and set off together, crossing mountains and ridges; by noon the next day, they had left the territory of Mount Wuling.

All feasts must end; each had his own destination, and it was time to part. Though the Wuling mountain path had been short, their bond had grown deep; at parting, they were reluctant, exchanging heartfelt farewells.

“Brothers, meeting in Wuling Mountain was fate. If you ever need me, find Zuo here at Banmu Gorge—I won’t refuse!”

“Brother Zuo speaks truly—if fate brought us together, we’ll meet again. Then, Tan will raise a cup with you, Brother Zuo, and Brother Liu!”

“Little brother thanks both elder brothers—when we meet again, we won’t stop until we’re drunk!”

Thus Zuo Gaofeng headed northeast, Tan Bazhang went southeast, and Liu Xiaolou set out on the direct eastern road; the three brothers nearly shed tears.

After traveling east for more than ten li, Liu Xiaolou turned south, walked twenty li, then turned west again; this detour added twenty to thirty li, but he reached Mount Tianmen before nightfall.

Mount Tianmen has two main peaks, each a hundred zhang tall, connected at their summits by a natural stone bridge, resembling a gate to heaven—so magnificent it was named Mount Tianmen.

Liu Xiaolou had never been here before; seeing the towering Tianmen Gate, he was deeply awed, gazing upward for a long time, thinking: Such a feat of nature—could only be the work of heavenly gods. Do celestial deities truly exist? And is their abode truly like this?

For a moment, his longing to seek immortals and cultivate the Dao grew even stronger.

Beneath Mount Tianmen, a marketplace had arisen since ancient times, housing dozens of sects, clans, and great families, with countless wandering cultivators from Jing and Xiang constantly coming and going, selling spirit materials, spirit flowers and herbs, elixirs, magic treasures, and talismans; wine shops, tea houses, brothels, gambling dens, inns, and stables lined the streets, thriving beyond measure.

One marketplace surpassed Wuchao Town tenfold.

Liu Xiaolou walked through the bustling market, glancing at this shop, peering into that one—his eyes were dazzled.

Dai Gaocheng said he met Wei Hongqing at the Hongji Wine House on the eastern edge of Tianmen Market; this sworn brother always loved wine, so the best place to find him was clearly Hongji Wine House—yes, both names had the character “hong,” so it must be this one.

Walking and searching, he finally found the Hongji Wine House on the eastern edge of the market.

The three-story wine house was grand and imposing; it was evening, and guests came and went in great numbers. Waiters shouted incomprehensible calls, carrying trays, lifting jugs, hauling barrels, moving constantly.

The top floor was full, so Liu Xiaolou chose the second floor; the window table was taken, so he found a lone table in the corner, ordered three small dishes, rice and wine, and ate with an open appetite.

Hongji Wine House had deep backing and great wealth; its menu offered over a dozen spirit birds and exotic beasts, but the prices were exorbitant—Liu Xiaolou dared not order any; his three dishes were ordinary fare, but the rice was spirit rice, and he ordered a small pot of spirit wine—totaling five taels of silver, far beyond what an ordinary person could afford.

Even Liu Xiaolou could only afford such luxury occasionally.

The food was fine, but the spirit wine was bland, its spiritual energy slightly weak—far inferior to the spirit wine he’d drunk at Jinping Manor—but for five taels a pot, one couldn’t ask for more. The waiter recommended premium Zhuyeqing, costing dozens or even hundreds of taels, or outright spirit stones—he couldn’t afford it.

He ate and drank slowly for half an hour, yet saw no Wei Hongqing; he was just considering asking a waiter when a figure stepped out from one of the private rooms, shouting to the waiter: “Another pot of Zhuyeqing!”

Liu Xiaolou couldn’t help smiling—so Wei Hongqing was here after all!

The two met, and Wei Hongqing gave him a bear hug; Liu Xiaolou nearly couldn’t breathe.

Finally released, Wei Hongqing slapped his shoulder: “Xiaolou, I knew you’d come—ha!”

Liu Xiaolou muttered: “That old ginseng...”

Wei Hongqing laughed: “Truly a wonder—no wonder it grew on Shouyang Mountain! I soaked it in wine—guess what? After three months, I drank the whole batch in three days—my cultivation surged—ha!”

Liu Xiaolou sighed helplessly as Wei Hongqing dragged him into the private room: “Come, come—I’ll introduce you to a good friend!”