Chapter 30: Return to Xianyang

Whoa!

Countless paper money fluttered through the air, drifting with the wind.

The funeral procession moved slowly forward; even the wind seemed heavy with sorrow.

Although Li Yan’s family belonged to the Li Family Fortress’s original surname, his branch had dwindled to near nothing, with no close elders left.

Fortunately, Wang Daoxuan presided over the rites, Sha Lifei ran errands, and neighbors and villagers lent a hand—Grandpa’s funeral was conducted with great solemnity.

Choosing the burial site, selecting the coffin, setting up the altar, interment…

Every step of the process, even the village chief Li Huairen, who had seen much in his life, secretly gave a thumbs-up and spent a long time cultivating ties with Wang Daoxuan.

As for Li Yan, he too suppressed his grief, bustling about tirelessly.

Only by doing so could he momentarily forget his sorrow.

With all his closest kin gone, he stood alone in the vast world.

He had endured this loneliness once in his past life, so even though this life was dull, he chose to stay in the village, keeping his grandfather company.

On the seventh night, he even activated his spiritual power to keep vigil all night, hoping to catch a whiff of his grandfather’s familiar scent—but he waited in vain.

Thus, numb and dazed, the funeral was finished, and another month had passed.

…………

It was now the eighth lunar month, and the weather had begun to cool.

Boom!

Amid the muffled thunder of autumn, a light rain drizzled down.

“The ritual to build the Divine Tower is costly…”

Wang Daoxuan scribbled with brush and ink, “Incense, candles, paper offerings, brushes, ink, cinnabar—all must be offered for at least five years on the altar of a major Daoist sect. Of course, we’ll have to spend silver to buy them.”

“These disposable ritual tools are secondary; to succeed, we need decent protective talismans for the altar, and we must find a superior feng shui spiritual node.”

“The stronger the natural qi gathering at famous mountains, great rivers, and blessed grotto-heavens, the greater the chance of success. I know the temple keeper of Xianyang City God Temple—he can introduce us to the Daoist grounds atop Mount Taibai, but we can’t skimp on the payment…”

He let out a bitter laugh. “We Daoists of the orthodox path value accumulating merit, but every step upward demands its toll—and money is never absent.”

Li Yan possessed the Great Luo Body, so he no longer feared his spirit dispersing.

Wang Daoxuan was unaware of this, naturally growing anxious for him.

Seeing this, Li Yan shook his head. “Master need not worry. My spiritual power is now stable. Let’s proceed slowly—rushing will only ruin things.”

Rustle!

At that moment, the sound of a gate being pushed open came from outside the courtyard.

Sha Lifei, wearing a straw rain cape and hat, stepped in from the rain and wind.

“Good news, good news—it’s finally over…”

His face beamed with joy. He flung off his rain cape outside the door and strode in, eyes sparkling. “I found out—the concubine of Lu the Squire and Zhao Cheng suddenly sold all their land. Word is they swindled several families out of down payments and have vanished without a trace.”

“This matter must be over!”

“It should be over…”

Wang Daoxuan pondered briefly, then nodded. “They stole money before fleeing—that’s cutting all ties. Those people are likely far beyond Guanzhong. As long as we’re careful, we’re safe.”

It wasn’t surprising they were so cautious.

Anyone who’s wandered the Jianghu knows: whoever could mobilize such power, with several major knife-bandits in Guanzhong serving them, must be a figure of immense authority.

Crushing them would be no different than crushing ants.

“If it’s over, that’s good.”

Sha Lifei beamed. “Staying in this village has driven me mad. With your two’s skills and my connections, how could we fail to prosper?”

“Why not head straight to Chang’an?”

The three of them had planned to go into business together, making a living from the Daoist path.

With Li Yan’s help, Wang Daoxuan could finally dare take on certain jobs.

And Sha Lifei, with his thick skin and smooth tongue, knew all the Jianghu rules—perfect for gathering rumors and securing lucrative jobs.

Of course, the Daoist path wasn’t easy to walk.

Like the Jianghu, you only get work once your name spreads.

“Chang’an?”

Wang Daoxuan chuckled wryly. “Do you even know what Chang’an is? In the days of the Tang Dynasty, it was the gathering place of all Daoist sects under heaven, teeming with extraordinary talents. Ye the Master entered Chang’an alone and forged a legendary reputation that echoes through history.”

“Even now, though the capital has moved north, Chang’an remains a major Daoist stronghold.”

“Orthodox Daoist sects, regional Daoist lineages, left-path heretics—countless powerful figures dwell there. Truly, tigers lie hidden and dragons sleep. We have no standing there.”

“Go to Xianyang.”

Li Yan spoke suddenly, his gaze cold as he stared out the window.

“Master Wang’s home is in Xianyang—he knows the ground well.”

“Besides, I have some matters I need to clarify…”

…………

Xianyang, an old street near the City God Temple.

Shops selling incense, candles, and handling funerals and weddings differed from other businesses—they waited for customers to come to them; no one shouted on the street.

“Coffins for sale, coffins for sale—buy a big one, get a small one free…” Who dared shout like that? Their shop would be smashed that same day.

Moreover, even speech had its rules.

For example, if someone came to buy a coffin, you asked: “Whom are you arranging this for?”

And if someone ordered a coffin—even if it sat for years—you had to keep it safe. You never showed up unannounced to deliver it.

There were other taboos, too, which could not be casually broken.

Thus, business on this street was never brisk, especially these past days of continuous rain—familiar shopkeepers gathered to play chess and chat.

“Hey, heard the news? Old Wang the Quiet’s back.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“No word is he was out ordering a coffin and narrowly escaped.”

“That fool’s got dumb luck.”

!.

“Even better—they brought two others with them. These past days, they’ve been asking around, trying to pick up jobs.”

“Hah, with his two-bit skills…”

The shopkeepers on the street all sneered in their speech.

They ran related businesses and were semi-experts, familiar with many Daoist practices, even connected to some sorcerers.

They could earn commissions by referring customers.

They knew Wang Daoxuan was a Daoist, yet the things they said mocking him grew nastier by the word.

It wasn’t personal hatred—it was human nature.

Mocking a fallen Daoist made them feel better, gave their words more edge.

A man passed by the door, holding an umbrella.

Hearing their talk, he merely cast a cold glance and ignored them.

The man was Li Yan.

They had returned to Xianyang for seven or eight days, tidied up Wang Daoxuan’s old home, moved in, and begun gathering information.

Unfortunately, Daoist business wasn’t easy either.

Important people usually contacted the Grand Xuan Orthodox Sect directly; lesser ones sought out rising Daoist lineages.

Many villages had their own witch doctors and shamans on the ground.

That was their turf. Unless they faced an unsolvable problem, they wouldn’t allow outsiders to interfere—otherwise, a magical duel might erupt.

Daoist conflicts were just as bloody as those in the Jianghu.

The only difference: ordinary folk rarely saw them.

Li Yan wasn’t in a hurry. Each day he loitered in teahouses and taverns—first to find out who needed help, second to gather information on Zhou Pan of the Divine Fist Society.

The brothel in Chang’an where his father died had been burned to ashes.

The only lead now was Zhou Pan, whose behavior that day had been suspicious.

But Zhou Pan was no easy target.

That old monkey had already reached the Hua Jing level of martial skill, controlled both the black and white worlds of Xianyang, commanded a large gang of disciples, and had street thugs obeying his orders.

To extract information, he needed the right opportunity.

As he pondered, Li Yan had returned to Wenda Pavilion.

“Business has come!”

Before he even entered, Sha Lifei rushed in from the street, breathless.

Back in the courtyard, facing the two men’s gazes, Sha Lifei beamed with pride. “How’s that? Only I, Sha Lifei, could pull this off!”

“A traveling opera troupe from Huayin plans to set up a stage in Xianyang. One of them is someone I know—they need a Daoist to help them with something.”

Li Yan’s eyes lit up. “A shadow puppet troupe?”

Troupes from Huayin mostly performed Laoqiang.

Though both Laoqiang and Qinqiang originated in Guanzhong, they were not the same.

Qinqiang came from the Western Prefecture; Laoqiang came from the Eastern Prefecture. One was traditional opera; the other, shadow puppetry.

He’d seen one once in Lantian County—it was fascinating.

"That's right."

Sha Lifei nodded enthusiastically: "This job might not pay much, but you know—these opera troupes are all from the Liu family. If we pull it off, our reputation will rise."

Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard: "Good. What do they want to do?"

Sha Lifei chuckled: "I heard they want to perform a possession ritual—summon a spirit."

Upon hearing this, Wang Daoxuan’s expression changed instantly.

"We can't take this job!"

(End of chapter)