Chapter 63

These past few days, Liu Xiaolou slipped out every day to stroll the streets and gauge the situation, but Zhanglong Sect maintained tight control over Wuchao Town; he found no safe escape route.

He went to the mouth of Tou Tiao Alley, but Zhang Ma and Qing Jie had already been driven back inside—the Zhanglong Sect had posted guards at the alley’s entrance, forbidding them to continue their trade, even to leave their homes, or let outsiders in, claiming it was to prevent troop morale from collapsing; Liu Xiaolou lost this line of sight.

But he had roughly pieced together the situation: Zhanglong Sect had chosen Wuchao Town as its garrison, with the Sect Master himself arriving, four of the five Elders present, twelve Inner Disciples, and over two hundred cultivators including stewards, Outer Disciples, managers, affiliated clans, and rogue cultivators, plus dozens of young, strong servants and attendants—truly an imposing force.

The Eyang Mountain Zang Clan, an important branch of Zhanglong Sect, arrived under Clan Lord Zang Baili, bringing twelve clan cultivators and patrons, plus over twenty servants and attendants—essentially the entire clan had come, seizing two neighboring courtyards around Liu Xiaolou’s home.

Besides the familiar Jin Gongfeng, even the clerk who collected spirit rice had followed, handling supplies for the Zang Clan. Every mealtime, the scent of spirit rice, spirit wine, and spirit meat drifted from the opposite courtyard, making Liu Xiaolou’s mouth water. Once, unable to resist, he knocked on their door during mealtime, offering to help—but the Gongfeng dismissed him with a casual, “Wait for military orders.”

That day, after finishing his practice, he planned to go out again to scout the situation when his courtyard gate was pounded violently.

He opened it to find Jin Gongfeng, who dragged someone from behind and shoved him in, saying to Liu Xiaolou: “This cultivator is also from Wulong Mountain—do you recognize him?... He’s been assigned to stay here.”

Jin Gongfeng left immediately—it was mealtime, and he had to rush back to the opposite courtyard—leaving Liu Xiaolou and the newcomer staring at each other.

“Say, Tan Brother, how did you end up here?” Liu Xiaolou was stunned.

The conscripted man was naturally his good friend Tan Ba. He curled up on the chair, clutching his head in pain: “I was hiding in the big mountains, got bored, thought I’d stroll into town to meet Green Pearl at Tou Tiao Alley—only to be blocked right at the town gate and handed a badge on the spot...”

Liu Xiaolou was speechless: “What time is this? A massive battle is about to erupt—three sects against one sect—and I’m stuck here with no escape, but Tan Brother, you just walked right into the trap... can’t you keep it zipped?... I’ve met Green Pearl too—she’s not that alluring, is she?”

Tan Ba disagreed: “Green Pearl is great—very tempting...”

Liu Xiaolou said: “Green Pearl? Honestly, she’s a bit fat; her looks aren’t as good as Liu He, her figure not as good as Ye Zi.”

Tan Ba retorted: “But her chest is big! Think about it, Liu Younger—those two lumps pressed against your face...” He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, wore a blissful expression, and sighed deeply: “Ah...”

Liu Xiaolou shook his head: “Different tastes—your call.”

Tan Ba asked: “Who do you like, Liu Younger?”

Liu Xiaolou thought a moment, then said: “Qing Jie...”

Tan Ba sneered: “Don’t even dream it—who doesn’t like Qing Jie? But it’s impossible. Qing Jie hasn’t taken any outside clients in years; I heard she once had a lover—no one knows who had such luck... Unless you force her, which ruins everything, breaks the rules, and the whole Wuchao Town would rise up. Qing Jie, though nearing thirty, carries that mature allure—hmm... if you could get a taste, Zeze ... Younger, if you’re talking figure, face, chest, waist, ass—damn, how do you even get her into bed? I’d pay a hundred taels of silver—no, one spirit stone!”

Liu Xiaolou blinked, inexplicably feeling quite cheerful; he smiled inwardly but didn’t take the bait, only said: “Get lost.”

Tan Ba had been lost in thoughts of Qing Jie for a long while when his nose twitched: “Who’s cooking spirit rice? So fragrant! Hey? What meat is this... and wine? Spirit wine! Definitely Bamboo Leaf Green!”

Liu Xiaolou nodded toward the gate: “Who else?”

Tan Ba realized: “Ah, the Zang Clan!” He leapt up, scrambled onto the courtyard wall, peered across for a moment, then asked: “Is there any for us?”

Liu Xiaolou gave him a look: “You’re dreaming.”

Tan Ba clung to the wall a while longer, then slumped down, returned to his chair, and sat in gloomy silence.

Liu Xiaolou kicked the chair leg: “There’s rice in the vat, meat on the beam, firewood in the stove. I heard your Tan Clan’s braised pork is excellent—make some and let me taste it.”

Tan Ba lazily rose and trudged toward the kitchen, muttering: “That’s the Lingnan Tan Clan, right? My Xiangxi Tan Clan is generations apart from them—but if you’re talking braised pork, my Xiangxi Tan Clan’s version is the real deal—spicy...”

Liu Xiaolou paid him no mind and went inside to continue his cultivation.

After days of relentless effort, the Daling acupoint was on the verge of collapse; its gate, thin as paper, had grown softer under the constant impact of true qi, nearing the point of bursting at the slightest touch.

Achieving such progress in under a month was remarkably fast—after all, the entire Hand Jueyin Meridian had only nine major acupoints, each a substantial point; once broken through, the acupool would store true qi far exceeding that of acupoints on other meridians.

Tan Ba’s braised pork was indeed delicious, especially the spice—huge amounts of Sichuan pepper and prickly ash covered the meat entirely, leaving Liu Xiaolou praising it endlessly.

On the third day after Tan Ba’s arrival, as he trained with his iron staff in the dripping courtyard, the gate was kicked open with a crash; Jin Zhishi stood outside shouting: “Liu Xiaolou, Tan Ba—take your weapons and magic tools, move!”

Both sighed inwardly. Tan Ba slung his forged-gold iron staff over his shoulder; Liu Xiaolou sheathed his San Xuan Sword at his waist, clutching the Lin Yuan Xuan Stone Array plate, stepped out the gate, and joined the Eyang Mountain formation.

Zang Baili led them to the town’s west, where they merged with other clans and rogue sects into Zhanglong Sect’s main force, leaving Wuchao Town and following the Wuchao River upstream toward Wulong Mountain.

A large boat sailed upstream, its sails fully inflated despite the wrong wind direction—clearly powered by Daoist arts. A dozen men clustered around a refined elder on the bow, pointing at the land-bound column and nodding in approval.

Zang Baili turned to those behind him: “That is Master Qu!” Then he led the applause.

Inspired by him, all the affiliated clans and sects cheered, hundreds of cultivators shouting in unison—the noise shook the heavens!

As Liu Xiaolou stared curiously at this first cultivator of Xiangxi, Tan Ba tugged his sleeve, gesturing for him to turn back. He turned—and there, unmistakably, were Longshan Sanren, the Seven Heroes of Guzhang Mountain, Old Hu Du, and other fellow cultivators from Wulong Mountain; they too waved their arms and cheered toward the Wuchao River, though they looked weak and listless.

They were all conscripted too?

One had to admit: “Impressive.” Zhanglong Sect, as the local power, truly knew how to find people—no one could hide.