Chapter 569: Sweeping Dust Day: The Old Affairs of the Master

On the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, the Stove God was worshipped; on the twenty-fourth, households performed "sweeping dust," symbolizing the removal of filth and the welcoming of divine blessings.

The people of Chengdu Prefecture called this day the "Jiao Nian Festival"; local customs records state: "On the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth month, every household sweeps their dwellings, removes dust and dirt, and prepares wine and fruit to offer to the Stove God."

It was not merely for cleanliness, but also carried the meaning of "discarding the old and welcoming the new."

Even the brooms used had specific lore.

Chengdu residents tied bamboo branches into long brooms, calling them "sweeping-year brooms"; after sweeping the house, they burned the brooms along with old items in the stove, symbolizing "sending away poverty."

"When sweeping the house, you must begin from an auspicious direction, starting with the main beam—'sweeping misfortune from above'—and never sweep from the door outward, lest you 'drain away wealth and fortune…'"

Wang Daoxuan swept as he spoke: "We northerners emphasize the Stove God worship; the Sichuanese emphasize 'Jiao Nian'—both customs passed down from ancient Chu."

Wang Fu had servants, yet Wang Daoxuan insisted on sweeping himself.

In his view, he had wandered the four seas, making north and south his home; though he lived away, these traditions could not be broken.

Without ritual, the holiday lost its flavor.

Li Yan and the others did not object; their group was mostly solitary souls gathered together—he was the leader, but Wang Daoxuan was more like a patriarch.

After the busy work and a light breakfast, everyone went about their tasks.

As planned the night before, Li Yan went to gather intelligence, Sha Lifei went to contact Hou Xuan, and the rest remained at the Bamboo Grove Cottage.

After all, they still had the mission to protect Xiao Jinghong.

With Ming Shanzi gone, they had become the main force.

Lu San handled defense and mid-range attacks, Wu Ba provided close protection, Wang Daoxuan set up the altar to control the battlefield, and with the disciples of Du Men, they could handle most situations.

Li Yan left the Prince's Mansion and stepped onto the street.

After sweeping dust, only a few days remained until the New Year; Chengdu's streets grew ever more lively, with door gods, peach charms, and New Year paintings sold everywhere, and the crackle of firecrackers never ceased.

From today on, even the government would suspend legal proceedings; the people called it "sealing the seals and ignoring criminal cases."

Li Yan did not hesitate—he headed for Mingxiang Pavilion.

The Shu Prince's situation was complicated: within his mansion lurked not only masters of the "Ghost Opera Troupe," but also a celestial immortal reborn as a mortal.

Moreover, the Shu Prince had been possessed by Lu Sheng.

That was a famous sorcerer from history, who had lived longer than Zhao Changsheng—who knew how powerful he had become?

Before having firm certainty, Li Yan had no plans to provoke him further.

Of course, last night's gains were considerable; from the conversation between the two members of the "Ghost Opera Troupe," it was clear the Shu Prince's current forces consisted mainly of two factions.

One was the southwestern heretical sects he had previously gathered.

The other was the hired members of the "Ghost Opera Troupe."

The "Shu Prince" had broken ties with the Worship the Dragon Cult; the "Ghost Opera Troupe" members were no better—united only by profit, constantly scheming against each other.

This situation might be exploitable.

Right now, the most important thing was to find out what the enemy intended to do.

With such a commotion, Li Yan did not believe he could not find a flaw…

…………

In eastern Chengdu Prefecture, the bustle was greater than in other areas.

This district had always been a melting pot of the three teachings and nine streams; because of Chengdu's lantern festival and martial contests, it had drawn a flood of martial artists and Daoist sorcerers.

The roadside taverns showed no intention of closing.

Their flags still fluttered, and the shouts of dice games echoed continuously.

The snowstorm from last night had not yet ceased; the streets teemed with people, and merchants hauling livestock trampled the snow into sludge, the air filled with clamor and the braying of mules and horses.

Li Yan had been here before, so he knew the way well.

He quickly noticed that the number of martial artists here had increased since his last visit, including many sorcerers at the Second Story of Qi and martial artists who had reached the Hua Jing stage.

Do not underestimate this.

Though vastly inferior to him now, in local regions they were all local kings, much like Zhou the Old Monkey of Xianyang in the past.

To call it a gathering of heroes would not be an exaggeration.

The situation was more complex than he had imagined…

Li Yan frowned slightly, pulled his hat lower, and wove through the streets and alleys until he reached the entrance of Mingxiang Pavilion.

"Young Master Li, this way…"

The doorkeeper had already recognized him; seeing him from afar, he rushed forward to greet him and led him into the tea house.

Even during the New Year, the tea house was crowded.

To his surprise, the stage featured a group of Daoists playing flutes and sheng, beating fish drums, and chanting the Bu Xu Ci.

"Lord Wenchang, High Truth of the Purple Palace. Jade scrolls and golden texts, holding the register of laureates in the Nine Heavens; red robes and white horses, descending literary radiance across the Three Realms. Great compassion, great vows, great sage, great mercy—Lord Wenchang Zitong, the Heavenly Sovereign of Eternal Rebirth…"

This was the Litany to Lord Wenchang.

In Shu, there were two great deities: one was Er Lang Zhen Jun; the other was Lord Wenchang.

Across the Divine Land, there was long-standing saying: "In the north, worship Confucius; in the south, worship Wenchang"—now spread nationwide, even more renowned than Er Lang Zhen Jun.

Sensing Li Yan's surprise, the attendant hurried forward and whispered: "A merchant wished to seek favor for his son, who is currently taking the imperial exams in the capital, so he specifically arranged for this performance."

"Master Li, follow me…"

He led Li Yan through the front hall to the back courtyard.

They did not notice that in a private room on the second floor of the front hall, a pair of eyes had briefly glanced at Li Yan's back—and instantly sharpened.

In the back courtyard, Li Yan immediately smelled a strange odor.

It smelled like tea leaves mixed with medicinal decoction.

And even, the scent of poison insects.

Li Yan frowned slightly and entered the courtyard.

There, Liang Yu—one of the Six Idle of the Bamboo Grove—was brewing a medicinal decoction in a peculiar copper pot, engraved with talismanic patterns and grooves.

In the central groove of the copper vessel lay a strange worm-like creature, writhing violently, flanked on either side by tea decoction and medicinal broth.

Liang Yu stared fixedly at the copper vessel, his fingers rapidly forming hand seals.

As the fire boiled, the tea and medicine bubbled, their liquids spreading along the grooves, converging toward the center.

At the vessel's center, they had thickened into a pitch-black, viscous sludge.

The strange insect, scalded, twisted in agony, greedily sucking up the sludge, its body swelling larger.

When the tea and medicine had fully evaporated, the insect had become a round pellet, its outer skin rapidly dried and hardened by the copper vessel.

Li Yan now knew the nicknames of the Six Idle of the Bamboo Grove.

Liang Yu not only understood tea but also practiced the Lingnan Tea Poison and Xiangxi Grass Witch methods—her nickname was "Tea Poison Lady."

This method of alchemy was utterly unheard of.

As for Sima Bo, lying beside her, his nickname was "Ghost-Faced Scholar."

Though curious, Li Yan said nothing, standing quietly to wait; the relationship between him and the Six Idle was no less than that between him and his companions—they would not betray him.

Liang Yu removed the insect pellet, peeled off its cracked outer shell, revealing a pitch-black pill.

Sima Bo took it, mixed it with tea, and swallowed it in one gulp.

His previously pale face immediately improved.

"This is called Grass Spirit Pill."

Liang Yu finally spoke: "This old man injured his spirit-soul and wishes to recover combat strength quickly—ordinary methods won't do, but the side effects are severe; he may never advance further."

Sima Bo paid no mind, shaking his head: "I'm an old man already—I no longer care about such things."

He turned to Li Yan, his voice growing excited: "Young Master Li, have you found the traitor's trail?"

"Yes. In the Shu Prince's mansion."

Li Yan did not conceal anything—he recounted what he had seen.

Of course, he omitted the celestial immortal, referring only to a mysterious master. "He… he truly forged it!"

Upon hearing this, Sima Bo's expression turned agitated; he tried to rise but accidentally strained his lung meridian, bursting into violent coughs, his face turning crimson.

"You old fool, why the rush?"

Liang Yu frowned but handed him a specially brewed tea.

After drinking it, Sima Bo calmed down, then spoke in a low, grave tone: "You don't know what that traitor has done."

"My lineage's ancestral secret text, the Hundred Faces Codex, originated from the heretical Jiangzuo sect—it contains three forms: human, ghost, and divine."

"The human form requires peeling off a living person's face—while still alive, the victim must be tortured mercilessly to fill them with rage…"

"The ghost form, besides the human skin, requires trapping the lingering soul and transforming it into a vengeful ghost, binding it to the skin…"

"The divine form adds another secret method: it can refine the 'yao sheng' into the mask, requiring cultivation in an extremely yin location—it is exceedingly brutal, with nine methods: Ghost Zhong Kui and Ghost Eight Immortals."

"That traitor has killed countless people practicing this—everything is my fault. I should have destroyed the secret text long ago."

Beside him, Liang Yu spoke gravely: "It's done now—what good is lamenting? You know this method—you must know how to break it."

Not a single word, not a single mistake, not a single omission!

"Tell us—we must prepare in advance."

Sima Bo nodded: "He has forged Ghost Zhong Kui. Once unleashed, it will be followed by a hundred ghosts, excelling at stealing souls—use rooster's blood to break it."

"Then we're set."

Liang Yu said coldly: "Once the other comrades arrive, we'll find an opportunity to trap him and help you purge your own house."

"It won't be easy."

Li Yan spoke gravely: "According to what I've heard, the Shu Prince's forces include several heretical masters: Nie Sangu, Blood Nuo Master Ba Daizha, Water Ghost Artisan Tian Qiye, and the Black Sect Lama Duo Ji Zaxi."

"All these old devils are still alive!"

Liang Yu heard, her eyes filled with shock.

Though the Bamboo Grove Six Idlers were a wandering immortal group and had once gained considerable fame, they still fell short compared to these infamous southwestern demonic cultivators.

Even if they gathered together, they would struggle to defeat them.

"Not only that, there are even more formidable experts—the Black Feather Guard under the Shu Prince, each carrying new-style firearms…"

Li Yan described the grim situation, then added: "But we have an opportunity—the reinforcements from Qingcheng Mountain will arrive soon."

"For now, we must first find out what they intend to do. Best to gather intelligence from the outskirts, to avoid alerting them."

"The Shu Prince is hosting a martial arts tournament to stir up chaos—he must be trying to conceal his plans."

"Senior Liang, your information network is extensive. Have you heard of any strange events in Chengdu recently?"

"Strange events?"

Liang Yu paused in thought, then nodded. "Indeed, there have been."

"Yesterday, the Chengdu City God Temple suddenly closed its doors, the temple attendant was replaced, Huangling Sect summoned all its disciples, and several were imprisoned…"

"I know about this."

Li Yan said gravely: "Someone in the City God Temple has been bribed by the Shu Prince's mansion to deliberately conceal the great array and secretly aid Nie Sangu. Master Mingshan from Qingcheng Mountain has already notified them to handle it."

"So that's how it is…"

Liang Yu nodded and continued: "The day before yesterday, something strange happened at Qingyang Palace outside the city—the statue of Laozi wept blood, causing widespread panic…"

"Also, lately many martial artists have arrived, spreading rumors that at midnight, the Fuh River dock is haunted by water ghosts—those who encounter them often wake up dazed, their faces bruised and swollen."

"Some sorcerers went to suppress it, but those who didn't encounter it were fine; those who did all fell into a daze, woke up with black-and-blue marks all over their bodies, and their clothes torn to shreds…"

"The thing hasn't killed anyone, so no one pays attention now—only at midnight, no one dares stay at the Fuh River dock."

"Fuh River dock?"

Li Yan frowned slightly. "Those demonic figures under the Shu Prince are likely hiding outside the city. Perhaps they're smuggling something at night—I'll go check tonight."

Situ Bo nodded. "It's not far from here to the Fuh River dock. No need to rush. Since today is a festival, let's have a simple meal first, then go at dusk."

"Very well, then I'll trouble you."

Since the senior had kindly invited him, Li Yan could not refuse.

Though called a simple meal, it was in fact a grand feast; since he had duties that night, Li Yan did not drink.

But being with these two seniors was far from boring.

They recounted information about the southwestern demonic sects, especially the four ancient demons, and told many stories from the old days of the xuanmen martial world.

Most of all, they spoke of the Ten Great Masters of Shenzhou.

Li Yan had never truly grasped the stature of these masters—until now, hearing them described by contemporaries, he understood their might.

Lu Hongyuan, master of Mingde Martial Arts Hall, son-in-law of the Kong family of Luzhou, channeled Confucian righteous qi to integrate Xingyi, Bagua, and Taiji into one, hailed as the unity of civil and martial ways—he once challenged Huo Yin for the chairmanship of the Divine Fist Association, and once slew the last imperial tutor of the Golden Tent Wolf Kingdom…

Cheng Jianxin, of course, needed no introduction—one sword subdued the entire southwest…

Huo Yin's divine fists were invincible; he was also an imperial bodyguard…

Liang Zan, the southern fist master, once fought alone against the southern seas' demons…

Wu Shuang of the Taiji Sect, a woman who surpassed men, was once a peerless beauty, called "Peerless Under Heaven"…

Sun Cunhuan, the Xingyi master, had reached the divine level of fist art…

Chen Yuanlu, master of Qiankun Martial Arts Hall, wielded a Qiankun Great Spear that stirred the four corners—he once dueled Cheng Jianxin and lost by only one move…

Dong Changxing, the Bagua Palm master, once defeated every challenger in the capital; even Huo Yin's intervention ended in a draw, after which Bagua Sect flourished in the capital…

Wan Shengying, founder of Wan Sheng Fist, chief guard of thirteen provinces' escort guilds, once slew thirteen water demons of Taihu in a single night—since then, escort banners traveled unchallenged across the land, and he maintained close ties with the Shanxi merchant guild…

Hao Cunzhen, the disheveled Daoist, wandered the world.

The martial world had only one evaluation of him: "Reincarnation of Zhang Sanfeng!"

Each of these men was a towering giant of their age; even xuanmen cultivators dreaded encountering them, and even the court had to show them deference.

Li Yan listened, entranced.

Liang Yu, watching him, shook her head with a cold laugh: "Being invincible in the world means nothing. The tides rise and fall; new generations always surpass the old. They are aged now—the future belongs to you young ones."

"Perhaps soon, a new generation of Ten Great Masters will emerge. If you have ambition, go seize one of those titles."

"Senior, you jest."

Li Yan was speechless. He turned to look out the window. "It's getting late—I'll head to the Fuh River dock first."

"Be careful on the road. As long as the green hills remain, you'll never lack firewood."

"Yes, seniors, rest assured."

After bidding farewell to the two, Li Yan left Mingxiang Pavilion.

Night had already fallen. Just before the city gates closed, Li Yan exited Xicheng.

Outside Chengdu, the land was not empty—it was dotted with shantytowns built by impoverished locals, organized by district.

Originally temporary shelters erected decades ago during floods to house displaced victims, over time more poor people gathered, forming vast shantytown clusters.

In these areas, no officials governed; lawlessness reigned, giving rise to countless local gangsters and petty factions—a hallmark of Chengdu.

Around the shantytowns, faint candlelight flickered like scattered stars.

"Wu~ Father!"

A cry echoed through the night air.

Li Yan heard it and sighed inwardly.

He knew the winter had been unusually harsh, with constant snow and wind—how many commoners had not survived the New Year?

Continuing forward, he soon reached the Fuh River dock.

It was utterly dark, not a soul in sight.

Yet Li Yan stopped, his expression turning strange.

He faintly smelled the scent of roasted mutton…

(End of Chapter)