Chapter 58: Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Inherited Caprice of Tai Shang

Wei Taiping brought a four-horse carriage, and moving the large plum tree onto it took him considerable effort.

Amidst a gloomy, sorrowful sky, the sunset slowly slanted downward; the final golden rays from Jiuzhen Lake cast oblique light upon the earth, and on the distant horizon, a blurred figure gradually grew clear.

Qian Chen arrived from afar, carrying an umbrella on his back.

Wei Taiping frowned slightly at the familiar figure; he did not think a Qi Refining cultivator, a lone cultivator, could pose any threat. Behind him, a villager whispered: “Isn’t that the sorcerer who cursed Jiang’s boy?” Before he finished, someone swiftly clamped a hand over his mouth. Before Qian Chen even drew near, a man rushed out from the side and fell to his knees with a thud before Qian Chen.

Jiang Weng, tears streaming down his face, held up his grandson in his arms for Qian Chen to see.

Qian Chen sighed: “A child speaks plainly, yet suffers such misfortune—this is truly my fault!”

He picked up the child, helped Jiang Weng to his feet, moving with deceptive slowness yet covering nearly dozens of zhang in a single step. His gaze swept over Wei Taiping as if he were a mere insect, showing no reaction.

Wei Taiping had just sneered, mentally calculating his own men’s numbers, realizing he still could not overpower a Qi Refining cultivator who wielded a flying sword with some skill. He gritted his teeth inwardly: “I’ll let you off this time!”

Qian Chen reached out to probe the child’s breath, thought for a moment, then noticed the broken root of the plum tree nearby. Suddenly he pulled from his sleeve the Soul-Enhancing Yang Pill that Wei Taiping had seen before, transforming the spirit pill into crimson liquid and pouring it over the plum root.

In an instant, the broken root sprouted tender buds.

On the wooden stake, several new branches sprouted and unfurled; time accelerated a hundredfold—within a blink, one branch grew as tall as a man, then replaced the main trunk, shedding its green bark to reveal woody texture.

As if witnessing a lifetime’s illusion, the young plum branch gradually twisted into gnarled, ancient strength; in an instant, it reached twice a man’s height, sprouting new limbs from its trunk, its branches spreading wide like outstretched arms, the canopy expanding to cover the original sky. As leaves fell, blossoms bloomed instantly across the entire tree.

The pink plum blossoms were breathtakingly beautiful—every branch heavy with flowers, falling like a rain of petals.

Qian Chen stood beneath the tree; petals landed on his shoulders, on his wide sleeves… Yet this gentle floral rain did nothing to soften the taut, sword-like tension radiating from him—as if an unparalleled, razor-sharp blade had sliced through the falling blossoms, its cold gleam reflecting off the petals, which landed on the blade’s edge like drops of blood.

Wei Taiping’s mind buzzed as he watched this supernatural display, an event bordering on the Dao itself. All he could think was: “That pill… was the one he traded for the map?”

The expression on Zhen Daoren’s face as he examined that pill was still vivid in his memory—the pill’s color was too pure, showing no trace of fire-refining by a pill master; it was too light, lacking wax coating… inferior spirit pill… merely a fake.

At this moment, he wanted to drag Zhen Daoren here to see it.

His retainers were even worse—some collapsed, legs weak; most stared blankly, whispering: “T-True Immortal!”

When the plum blossoms had all fallen, green plums appeared on the branches, rapidly turning yellow, then dusted with a thin layer of crimson.

Qian Chen casually plucked the reddest plum, peeled it, and fed it to the child. The tart, soft juice instantly seeped into the child’s throat… Jiang Weng, though stunned by the plum tree’s blossoming and fruiting, remained anxious for his grandson. Seeing the child’s pale face soften, he exhaled in relief—then, noticing the boy still hadn’t woken, his tension rose again!

The child’s lips gradually regained color.

Suddenly, “Cough! Cough!” The child slowly stirred, struggling to breathe, his face flushed red. Qian Chen gently patted his back to soothe him; the child let out a loud cough and spat out a toad the size of a thumb.

As soon as he spat out the toad, the child slowly opened his eyes.

He called out: “Ye Ye!”

Jiang Weng burst into tears, sobbing: “Hu Zi, Ye Ye is here!”

The child turned his clear eyes and, spotting Qian Chen, exclaimed in delight: “Immortal Grandpa…”

Qian Chen smiled as he returned the child to Jiang Weng, unconsciously touching his own smooth cheek: Could my demeanor be so old-fashioned that even this child sees through it?

Wei Taiping had no attention left for anything else. He abandoned the carriage pulling the plum tree and tried to slip away quietly. But as he lifted his foot, his legs suddenly gave out—a Cultivation Base of Tong Fa cultivator collapsed face-first onto the ground. Wei Taiping felt his entire body go limp. Just as he opened his mouth to beg, a dark green shadow suddenly leapt into his mouth—he felt something slide down his throat, a living thing darting into his belly.

At that moment, Wei Taiping’s strength returned. He no longer cared what had crawled into his belly, scrambled to his feet, and ran off, stumbling and crawling.

His retainers hurried after him.

Throughout the entire scene, Qian Chen never so much as glanced at them.

Jiang Weng bowed deeply: “You have saved this child twice. He has only a nickname, Hu Zi. Now, Immortal, you have given him new life—please grant him a proper name!”

“His surname is Jiang?” Qian Chen teased the child with a smile.

Jiang Weng nodded: “He is my own grandson!”

Qian Chen instantly recalled Tai Shang’s strange, plagiarizing whimsy. He stroked his chin and smiled: “Then let him be called Jiang Shang. When he takes a courtesy name later, he may also use Zi Ya.”

Jiang Weng’s expression turned peculiar.

Qian Chen turned to look at him. Jiang Weng stammered: “Immortal… I am Jiang Shang myself.”

Qian Chen was stunned, then burst into laughter: “How about Ne Zha? Nickname: Third Prince?”

Jiang Weng waved his hands frantically: “No, no, that’s too much! Jiang Shang is perfect… Jiang Shang is fine. This old man has lived over fifty years—everyone calls me Jiang Weng, Jiang Weng. I’ll just change my name!”

“No, no!” Qian Chen comforted him. “Fifty isn’t old. Look at your frame—you might still be mighty at eighty!”

Jiang the old man kept refusing, but the child’s name was settled.

Qian Chen had resolved the karmic debt he had caused. He glanced at the dozens of villagers with serious injuries and said: “Leave all these plums to you.”

With his left hand behind his back holding the umbrella, he walked calmly away…

This was merely tidying up loose ends—the real troubles still awaited him.

The villagers remained lost in the spectacle, watching the Immortal depart…

At that moment, Shi’s lame boy quickly picked up a fallen plum, bit into it, and soon realized his leg wound was healing—even the broken bone showed no ill effects…

“Plums… These are Immortal Plums! They revive the dead, restore flesh to bones!” Shi’s boy cried out in delight, threw down his crutch, and scrambled up the tree. He reached the canopy, grabbed handfuls of plums, and at that moment, villagers—whether injured or not—snapped out of their daze and surged forward, fighting over the fallen plums on the ground.

Shi’s boy frantically threw plums to the ground, shouting: “Don’t fight! The Immortal said everyone gets one!”

As he threw, he stuffed the largest, ripest plums into his own pockets. Those who first grabbed plums gave them to their injured relatives. Soon, even the old man who had been kicked down could lean against the tree and stand, groaning as he bit into the sour, tooth-aching fruit, his face wrinkled like an old chrysanthemum.

Jiang Weng did not join the scramble. He simply held his grandson aloft, smiling: “Jiang Shang, Jiang Shang, Jiang Zi Ya… This is the Immortal’s gift of a name! He will surely achieve great things… become Chancellor of our Great Jin Dynasty… No, better yet—he must become an Immortal! The Chancellor among Immortals…”

The village head, sweating profusely, squeezed through the crowd and handed Jiang Weng a few plums he’d picked up, smiling obsequiously: “Looks like our village’s fortune rests on Hu Zi! Hu Zi, when you grow up, don’t forget Uncle Shen!”

“You’re his grandfather!” Jiang Weng held up little Jiang Shang. “This is Uncle Shen…”

“Uncle Shen!” Little Jiang Shang babbled.