Chapter 59: Security Guard Uncle Liu, Jiang Lai

5:00 a.m.

Inside Hongfu Huayuan residential complex, it was still quiet, with only a few old men and women sitting under the trees, chatting idly about daily life.

Watching their animated expressions, one could only wonder who had already been ruined in their gossip.

Zhang Fan stepped out of the building and took a deep breath.

Even though he’d taken the sleeping pill left by Zhang Lingzong the night before, he’d only slept a little over three hours.

Upon waking, the crushing headache was gone, replaced by boundless vigor—most importantly, Zhang Fan felt his internal True Yang had surged dramatically.

This was nearly equivalent to months of diligent cultivation.

With this, he could at least master two or three more minor techniques from the [Northern Emperor Method] in a short time.

It was well known that once a novice mastered twelve minor techniques, they could be granted the [Mystic Master] rank.

“What the hell? Am I really a genius? Can I cultivate just by sleeping? But how did I even get back last night?”

Zhang Fan wandered aimlessly through the complex, his eyes filled with confusion.

His memory still stopped at the moment he’d clashed with Cao Wushang; beyond that, he had no recollection at all.

“Did he bring me back? That doesn’t make sense…” Zhang Fan muttered to himself.

Could it be that Cao Wushang had injured him and, feeling guilty, brought him home?

But Cao Wushang didn’t look like the kind of man with any conscience! “Go ask him?” Zhang Fan’s thought barely formed before he spat in disgust.

“I’m the victim here—shouldn’t he be coming to apologize? Pfft…”

“Xiao Fan…”

At that moment, a gentle, soothing voice reached his ears, pulling him back to reality.

Zhang Fan turned toward the sound and realized he’d walked unconsciously to the complex’s entrance—inside the security booth, a middle-aged guard in his forties was waving at him warmly…

He was slightly overweight, with a kind, gentle face, temples streaked with gray. Though it was midsummer, his right hand wore a black glove, looking oddly out of place.

“Uncle Liu, good morning!” Zhang Fan waved back enthusiastically.

Liu Fusheng was the security guard of Hongfu Huayuan and one of Zhang Lingzong’s few friends.

Zhang Fan remembered that since they’d moved here, Uncle Liu had worked as a guard in this complex; whenever Zhang Lingzong went out to work, Liu Fusheng had always looked after Zhang Fan.

As for his right hand…

Zhang Lingzong had told him that when Uncle Liu was young, he worked in a factory and lost several fingers in an accident with a lathe. He felt ashamed and wore gloves year-round, afraid others would stare. Over time, he’d grown used to it.

“You’re up early today, Xiao Fan…”

Liu Fusheng waved him over, opened a lunch box on his desk, revealing steaming, fragrant buns, along with soy milk…

“Lately, I just can’t sleep well,” Zhang Fan said offhandedly.

Liu Fusheng’s hand paused slightly: “Young people, adjusting to society brings pressure—it’s normal.”

“You haven’t eaten breakfast yet, come on, have some with me.” Liu Fusheng urged.

“Whenever you have free time, come by—I’ll cook you soup, and teach you to write characters too…”

“These days, everyone’s stressed. Writing characters calms the mind.”

As he spoke, Liu Fusheng kept only one large meat bun for himself and pushed the rest of the box toward Zhang Fan.

“Uncle Liu, you can write?” Zhang Fan asked casually.

“Hehe, don’t judge me by my looks…” Liu Fusheng raised his gloved right hand, smiling warmly.

“But my handwriting is quite beautiful…”

“It’s a pity—today’s youth are all restless and impatient… writing characters is a practice for inner stillness…” Liu Fusheng shook his head and sighed.

Zhang Fan hadn’t expected that after so many years as a guard, Uncle Liu had such an elegant hobby.

“Uncle, did you see anyone bring me home last night?” Zhang Fan ate a bun and drank soy milk.

“I wasn’t on duty last night.”

Liu Fusheng grinned, his expression sly: “Got a girlfriend?”

“No… I… never mind…” Zhang Fan tried to explain but couldn’t find the words, so he awkwardly lowered his head and ate his bun.

“Young man, don’t be shy—I’ve been there,” Liu Fusheng patted Zhang Fan’s shoulder.

“Uh… Uncle, I’m full.”

Zhang Fan quickly shoved half a bun into his mouth and turned to leave. “Eat more—you’ve only had five!” Liu Fusheng called after him.

“I have to go to work… Uncle, don’t tell my dad.”

Zhang Fan bolted out of the complex like a startled rabbit.

…

9:00 a.m., Taoyuan Square.

As soon as he arrived at the company, Wen He stepped forward in shiny black heels and shoved a form into Zhang Fan’s hands.

“What’s this?”

“Fill out the outbound form. This afternoon, you and Jiang Hu will deliver a shipment.” Wen He smiled.

“Where to?” Zhang Fan asked casually.

“The Shen family of Yujing!”

Jiang Hu appeared like a ghost from behind Zhang Fan.

“The Shen family…”

Earlier, Wen He had given Zhang Fan a list of hidden cultivators and families in Yujing City—many of whom were clients of Ye Buliang.

For example, the He family, who had practiced the Horse Spirit method.

The Yujing Shen family were a renowned lineage of talisman-makers; it was said their ancestors had settled here during the Ming and Qing dynasties, mastering the arts of making talisman paper, talisman brushes, and talisman ink—unrivaled across the land. Many Daoists from talisman sects regularly bought from them.

Among them, the Maoshan Shangqing Sect was one of their largest clients.

Thus, the Yujing Shen family had an excellent relationship with Maoshan.

“Just the two of us?” Zhang Fan asked.

“Isn’t it better just the two of us?” Jiang Hu elbowed him and whispered, “This delivery has a commission…”

At those words, Zhang Fan’s eyes lit up instantly.

He was still an intern; after deductions for insurance and housing fund, his monthly take-home pay was under four thousand yuan—barely enough to survive.

The Four Essentials of cultivation: Law, Companion, Wealth, and Ground.

To reach higher realms, especially later stages, money was indispensable.

“How much?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

At that moment, the door to Ye Buliang opened. Zhang Fan caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye and froze.

“Jiang Lai!?”

Since the He family incident, Jiang Lai hadn’t shown up for a week. She’d grown thinner, her skin paler, her short hair cut to shoulder-length, still ethereal and exquisite.

“You’re alright?” Zhang Fan stepped forward.

“I was never not alright,” Jiang Lai replied, returning to her desk and nodding.

“Last time, thanks to you—”

“Zhang Fan…”

Before he could finish, Jiang Lai cut him off, turning to meet his gaze with bright eyes.

“What?” Zhang Fan blinked.

“Don’t wander off again!”

“Uh… okay,” Zhang Fan said, stunned, then nodded. His expression turned strange—he couldn’t shake the odd feeling of her words.

Meanwhile, inside the office, Bai Buran watched through the blinds.

“Boss, if she used her body to anchor the dragon vein, how could she be unharmed?” Yu Yu raised his question.

Not only would ordinary people lack such ability—if they truly possessed it, they’d be dead.

“Your relative is strange,” Yu Fu paused, gazing at Bai Buran with hidden meaning.

“You’re right…” Bai Buran’s gaze sharpened slightly as he nodded.

“She is strange.”

“How?” Yu Fu raised an eyebrow, pressing.

“She seems… to have no Nascent Soul!” Bai Buran said uncertainly.

(End of Chapter)