Chapter 99: Qixi Business! The Wang Family

The next day, Zhang Fan arrived at the company very early.

Last night, through Wang Xuanqing’s soul fragment, he had caught faint traces of the Wuwei Sect.

Wang Xuanqing’s [Soul Binding] indeed had some origins, but whether due to the fragment’s nature or tampering, his key memories were a hazy glow of starlight, utterly opaque.

Yet one thing Zhang Fan could confirm: Wang Xuanqing had definitely encountered the Wuwei Sect.

During the upheaval ten years ago, when Zhang Fan faced Da Ye Bu Liang, experts from the Wuwei Sect were also present.

Since descending from Zhenwu Mountain, he had dealings with the Wuwei Sect’s Thirteen Zodiacs; he seemed bound to this generation by an inexplicable fate.

Now that Zhang Lingzong’s whereabouts were lost and the Evil God’s location unknown, Zhang Fan could only seek the truth of ten years ago from these demons.

Thus, he had painstakingly explored Wang Xuanqing’s soul fragment—though key memories were missing, it was not entirely fruitless.

“Xiong Qianxing was brought down by his hands; that night, there was another person…” Zhang Fan mused.

“Wang Xuanmiao!”

This name was the most vital clue he had; if his guess was right, this woman likely also possessed the Wuwei Sect’s [Soul Binding] technique.

“I need to take leave today and leave early.”

Upon entering the company, Zhang Fan saw everyone had already arrived earlier than him and were busily at work.

Jiang Hu’s desk was piled with talisman paper; he bent over, furiously writing and carving talismans.

Wen He, like a kind neighborly older sister, ensured everyone’s logistics—soy milk, coffee, buns, fried dough sticks, pancake egg burgers—all available.

Even Jiang Lai stood silently beside him, quietly grinding ink for Jiang Hu.

“What’s going on?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

“Fanfan, coffee or soy milk? Buns or pancakes?” Wen He asked with a warm smile on her lovely face.

“Sister Wen, I’ve already eaten. What are you all doing?” Zhang Fan asked again.

“Tomorrow’s Qixi Festival, right? We’re drawing [Harmony Talismans] to boost company revenue,” Jiang Hu said without looking up.

“[Harmony Talismans]!?”

Zhang Fan knew the Maoshan Shangqing Sect indeed had such a talisman; legend said that once forged and hung by the bedside, even an eighty-year-old bachelor could find true love within a day.

If a couple or married pair placed it under their pillow, it could resolve grudges and deepen affection.

“But isn’t [Harmony Talisman] ink supposed to be special?”

Since swallowing the [Evil God], Zhang Fan’s knowledge and experience had vastly improved; he naturally knew how this talisman was made.

The ink for [Harmony Talisman] required something extremely rare: the pollen of a very uncommon flower…

That flower was called [Flower of the Other Shore].

The [Nanyang Strange Records] contained an account.

In a remote village of Futu County during the Eastern Jin, there was a girl named Jiao’e, who had always been radiant; even before coming of age, matchmakers had worn out her family’s threshold, and all said she would surely find a good match.

At twelve, Jiao’e went into the mountains to gather herbs and saw a strange flower—one that bloomed for an instant, petals falling as leaves withered, never meeting again.

Intrigued, she approached to pick it, but when she reached it, the flower vanished; that night, she fell violently ill with fever, recovering only after half a month.

From then on, every night she dreamed of a man coming to meet her, his forehead marked with a faint bloodstain.

Over time, they fell deeply in love, their longing etched into their bones, unceasing.

Years later, when Jiao’e reached marriageable age, she refused all suitors, insisting Heaven had already betrothed her, and she would wait for that man’s return.

Everyone thought her mad and gradually withdrew; years passed, her parents died in sorrow, yet she remained alone, the man never appearing—only visiting her each night.

Thus, time mercilessly aged Jiao’e; her beauty long gone, one day a baby boy was born in the village, his cry loud as a bell.

Jiao’e came to see the infant—and on his forehead was a faint bloodstain.

Tears blurred her eyes; that night, she died.

Later, the tale spread; some said the strange flower Jiao’e saw as a child was the [Flower of the Other Shore], said to grow beside the Yellow Springs, where every pair of lovers, once crossing the Yellow Springs and seeing the flower, could never meet again in any lifetime.

The flower should never have appeared in the mortal world; Jiao’e encountered it, so she could see her destined one—but still, they ultimately missed each other.

Petals and leaves forever apart, loving yet eternally lost—this was the [Flower of the Other Shore]’s mystery; yet its pollen was the most potent substance for love, and when used as ink to carve [Harmony Talismans], it produced miraculous effects of union.

“Holy shit, Hu, you really are a Maoshan Daoist—you actually got [Flower of the Other Shore]?”

Zhang Fan knew the [Flower of the Other Shore] existed only in legend; perhaps in ancient times one might occasionally find it in deep mountains or vast marshes, like near the Yellow Springs of the Xiong family.

Today, it was nearly impossible to find.

Thus, Maoshan’s [Harmony Talisman] was nearly impossible to draw.

Zhang Fan hadn’t expected Jiang Hu to be so capable—he’d actually found the lost [Flower of the Other Shore].

“Where did you find it?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

“Downstairs.” Jiang Hu replied without looking up.

“Downstairs?” Zhang Fan froze: “Where downstairs? You found [Flower of the Other Shore] down there?”

“Downstairs flowerbed. Dogtail grass.”

“Huh!?” Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow, his expression turning strange.

“Where in this age could you find [Flower of the Other Shore]? Even if you could, wouldn’t the cost be astronomical?”

Jiang Hu said calmly: “Boss said save costs—just get the idea across. Mainly, spread good wishes.”

“How much for this good wish?” Zhang Fan asked.

“One hundred thirty-one yuan and forty fen.”

“One-three-one-four? For one talisman?”

“Or a whole stack?” Jiang Hu glanced over.

“Festivals are the best time to make money,” Jiang Hu said solemnly. “Boss says my Dao must prosper—I can’t be too poor.”

“Truly a model of our Dao!” Zhang Fan said, squinting.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic—panic makes you hang on the wall…”

“Don’t rush, don’t rush—rushing gets you invited to a funeral feast…”

At that moment, a sharp, pleasant ring suddenly sounded, echoing through the office.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry—worry makes you die early…”

Jiang Hu put down his talisman brush, pulled out his phone, saw it was the boss, and quickly answered.

“Boss…”

“Yes yes… everyone’s here… almost done…”

“No problem…”

Jiang Hu smiled and nodded.

“What? This… this might be…”

“Hello hello… Boss… no…”

Before he finished speaking, the phone emitted a busy tone.

“Shit…”

Jiang Hu’s smile vanished instantly; he cursed into the phone—true to workplace reality…

Smiling to your face, cursing behind your back.

“What happened?”

“Boss said… Boss said…” Jiang Hu stammered, looking uneasy.

“What?” “Boss says everyone come to the company early tomorrow—go wait outside all the hotels…”

“Wait for what?”

At that moment, even Jiang Lai couldn’t help asking.

“Trash bins!”

“Huh!?”

Zhang Fan froze, but Wen He smiled faintly, clearly understanding.

“Why wait for trash bins?”

“Boss says check if anyone threw away flowers or gifts, pick them up, keep them alive…”

“In a week it’s the Ghost Festival—sell them to people for tomb offerings.”

“Holy shit… that’s so fucking cruel…”

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Zhang Fan was utterly stunned; in all his life, he’d never seen—no, never even heard of—a business genius like this.

Working in this company felt like disgracing his ancestors.

“Too embarrassing,” Zhang Fan covered his face and shook his head.

"Qixi Festival—this is a business opportunity. Some hearts get drunk, some cry, some sleep with girls in hotels…"

Jiang Hu understood this human chaos well.

Facing the boss’s order for overtime, Jiang Lai said nothing, returned to her seat, calm as ever.

Zhang Fan, however, struggled to accept it—almost as if Li Zhi had lost his mind after Empress Wu became a widow.

“I’m taking leave.”

“Take leave now? Where are you going?” Jiang Hu muttered.

“Do you know where the [North Star Lodge] is?” Zhang Fan asked back.

From Wang Xuanqing’s soul fragment, he learned it was where the Wang family’s younger generation cultivated—never open to outsiders, known to few.

There, he should find Wang Xuanmiao.

“Just outside the city… that’s the Wang family’s territory of the Worship of Dipper Sect. I heard most of the Wang kids spend most of their time training there,” Jiang Hu said—true to his reputation as a local expert, nothing in Yujing City escaped his knowledge.

“Leave early tomorrow and take me along.”

“What are you planning to do?”

Jiang Hu’s expression turned sharply wary; since Zhang Fan joined, he had vaguely sensed something was off.

At first, when the He family vanished, he hadn’t thought much of it.

Later, when the Fu Sect’s Shen family also disappeared, Zhang Fan had saved his life—he could only feel gratitude.

Then, after visiting the Xiong family and that huge mess, he was locked up for a full day and night, and Jiang Hu began to feel something was wrong.

He thought of the legendary animated series, Detective Anan.

“Brother, what are you planning to do?” Jiang Hu’s voice trembled slightly.

“What’s that look for? I’m not doing anything—I’m just taking a look.”

Zhang Fan glanced sideways and patted Jiang Hu on the shoulder.

“It’s settled then.”

“Off duty—see you at the Five Spirit Rainbow Light!”

These days, with Old Yu gone and the boss gone, the Five Spirit Rainbow Light had become a bus—anyone could hop on whenever they wanted.

…

Yujing City, suburban area.

Beidou Hall.

It was a villa nestled among the hills, resembling a rural resort at first glance, with a babbling stream circling its exterior and fresh air ideal for recuperation.

At this moment, on the empty courtyard, a group of teenagers aged fifteen or sixteen were cultivating Qi and practicing martial forms, swinging their fists and legs.

Daoists awaken their Nascent Souls, refine internal Golden Cores, gather True Yang, and their physical constitutions surpass ordinary people; some also train family martial arts, since in combat, they can’t rely solely on spells—sometimes it comes down to a battle of Nascent Souls.

Such fierce aggression inevitably invites calamity.

“Xuanfei, I heard you crossed paths with the Xiong family—ran into a tough one?”

Inside the hall, Wang Xuanmiao blocked Wang Xuanfei just as she entered, standing beneath an ancient scroll of the Big Dipper.

“If you already know, why ask me?”

Wang Xuanqing had just died; Wang Xuanfei’s mood was far from good.

“I don’t know the details—who was the opponent?” Wang Xuanmiao asked casually.

“The Xiong family produced a new talent named Xiong Ba—he’s quite capable. Even Xiong Qianqiu said that, barring accidents, the Xiong family’s inheritance will likely pass to him,” Wang Xuanfei said gravely.

“Oh? Xiong Ba? He’s not even a direct heir—how could he possibly inherit the Xiong family?” Wang Xuanmiao’s gaze sharpened slightly, committing the name to memory.

“Did he break Wang Xuanqing’s spell?”

“No… it was a young man named Zhang Fan,” Wang Xuanfei said, shaking her head.

“Zhang Fan? I’ve never heard of him. There’s no such person on record in Yujing,” Wang Xuanmiao’s beautiful eyes narrowed, her expression thoughtful.

Since ancient times, of ten Daoists in the world, nine bear the surname Zhang, one the surname Li.

In the past, any Daoist with the surname Zhang was impossible to ignore, no matter where he went.

But since the Great Daoist Calamity eighty years ago, Longhu Mountain has had no revival of its lineage, and the Zhang surname has declined, no longer standing out.

That’s why Wang Xuanqing dared to utter such bold words: “Mountains do not see Zhang; Dao does not see Li.”

“I don’t know him—he’s a complete stranger. He was hired by the Xiong family as an ally,” Wang Xuanfei said firmly.

“How did he break Wang Xuanqing’s spell? What Daoist technique did he use?” Wang Xuanmiao asked the crucial question.

Wang Xuanqing wielded the “Spirit Binding” technique—yet he was publicly stripped of it, his Nascent Soul not even preserved.

So she was alarmed, fearing the opponent might have noticed something, drawing fire onto her—she couldn’t remain uninvolved.

“I couldn’t tell. Third Brother forbade any pursuit,” Wang Xuanfei shook her head, Zhang Fan’s figure flashing in her mind.

The only impression that man left on her was impenetrable depth.

“Why ask about this? Are you planning to get revenge?”

“Third Brother said not to pursue it—then we won’t. Besides, Wang Xuanqing is gone. What can I do?” Wang Xuanmiao said coolly.

“Is that so? Third Brother said you’re hiding your true strength.”

“Third Brother was joking. I’m just curious what kind of powerhouse would dare to ignore my Wang family,” Wang Xuanmiao shifted the topic smoothly.

“You think he’d dare come here to provoke us?” Wang Xuanfei laughed.

“Not likely. This is Beidou Hall—Wang family territory. Even if he had a hundred courage, he wouldn’t dare come…”

Wang Xuanmiao shook her head, her gaze instinctively drifting toward the hall’s depths, where a terrifying low roar issued forth, carrying a crushing, heart-stopping pressure.

“Besides, there’s no safer place than this. As long as that madman is here, who dares to act up?”

“No madness, no survival!” Wang Xuanfei’s face twitched slightly, her eyes also drawn to the deepest chamber.

Eleven years have passed. Though the man hailed as the most brilliant among Wang’s younger generation is now mad, his Dao has reached great heights—his ferocity is so great that no one dares approach within ten paces.

“Wang Xuangang!!”

(End of Chapter)