Chapter 33: Seven Seas Li Zhenren

The yamen runners stripped Liu Ershou of his official robe, then skillfully pinned him to the ground.

Two veteran runners brought forth the beating sticks, swung them high, and brought them down hard on Liu Ershou’s buttocks!

Instantly, the sound of whacks echoed through the courtroom, and Liu Ershou cried out in agony.

The muffled thuds of the sticks striking flesh were clearly audible.

The beating sticks were made of thick, hard bamboo, with several copper rings bound along their surface, leaving deep red marks with every blow.

Liu Ershou watched helplessly as the stick rose high, then came crashing down onto his own buttocks.

A loud crack rang out, accompanied by Liu Ershou’s pained scream—the pain felt as if it would tear him apart.

His face twisted in agony, tears welling in his eyes, his hands clenched tightly.

He felt as if his buttocks were on fire, waves of searing pain radiating from flesh to bone, nearly driving him to faint.

He wanted to struggle, to beg for mercy—but he knew it was useless.

He could only grit his teeth and endure the endless torment, hoping it would end soon.

At first glance, the veteran runners struck without mercy, each blow landing squarely on flesh—but in truth, their intent was thoughtful, with hidden subtlety.

These two beating sticks were hollow, producing loud sounds but far less pain than solid ones.

Hollow sticks were reserved for specific individuals; as long as one paid enough bribes to the runners, they’d be treated with these hollow sticks.

The runners had shown Liu Ershou considerable decency—automatically choosing the hollow sticks; exactly twenty blows, no more, no less.

Though not as painful as solid sticks, and unlikely to break skin, several blows would inevitably leave deep bruises.

But he understood this was merely the veteran runner’s act of kindness—ultimately, it caused no fatal harm.

Liu Ershou watched the stick descend, feeling his buttocks burn as if set ablaze.

The agony seemed ready to strip him of reason and dignity; Liu Ershou cried out loudly, tears and snot streaming down his face, utterly humiliated.

A collective gasp rose from the courtroom, as if all present pitied Liu Ershou’s suffering.

As soon as the beating ended, the runners carried Liu Ershou out to apply ointment.

Shaking, Liu Ershou was carried out of the courtroom, tears flowing uncontrollably, his heart filled with humiliation and rage.

Though the beating had not endangered his life, the humiliation left him deeply wounded.

As Assistant County Magistrate, to suffer such disgrace filled him with unprecedented defeat and helplessness.

He longed to seek revenge immediately, to reclaim his lost dignity and power.

But he also knew this was not the time to vent emotion—it was time to think calmly, to find a way to turn things around.

Jiang Mingyu did not beat Xia Duo; instead, he removed him from his position as Militia Commander and imprisoned him in the county jail, awaiting further judgment.

“Shangmu County… now it has no Assistant Magistrate. Does Lord Jiang have a plan to handle this?” asked Cloud of the Murong.

“Lord Murong… you’ve asked precisely the right question.” Jiang Mingyu paused, then returned to his desk, picked up his brush, and immediately wrote a memorial.

He first detailed the entire course of the case, then petitioned the Emperor to swiftly appoint a new County Magistrate to Shangmu County.

After finishing, Jiang Mingyu read it over, nodded with satisfaction—this memorial was concise and precise, certain to resolve the current crisis.

As Jiang Mingyu wrote furiously, Cloud of the Murong’s voice sounded again: “Lord Jiang, may I ask why you’ve come to the frontier?”

Jiang Mingyu looked up; Cloud of the Murong’s face was filled with curiosity. He smiled faintly and set down his brush.

“By imperial decree, to investigate a case.”

“Investigate a case?” Cloud of the Murong smiled shyly. “I thought… His Majesty had sent you to find me.”

“No. It’s to investigate the cause of the late Emperor’s death…”

Jiang Mingyu continued: “We intend to ascend Snowball Mountain to seek out the local immortal and obtain a medicinal formula.”

“Snowball Mountain? An immortal?” Cloud of the Murong pondered, then spoke: “Could it be… Seven Seas Li Zhenren?”

Jiang Mingyu froze, then beamed with joy: “Exactly! Lord Murong—do you know the Zhenren?”

Cloud of the Murong smiled and shook his head. “There is only one immortal on Snowball Mountain. I’ve only heard of him—I’ve never met him. But… how do you intend to meet him? Do you have a guide?”

“No need to worry,” Jiang Mingyu replied with a smile.

“Physician Li Xuan is the Zhenren’s disciple—he will lead us up the mountain to pay our respects. All will be well.”

“Then I need not worry,” Cloud of the Murong said softly. “I wish you a safe journey and smooth success.”

In the afternoon, after bidding farewell to Jiang Mingyu, Cloud of the Murong departed Shangmu County and returned to the Yin Si tribe.

Jiang Mingyu and his two companions spent another night in the county yamen, then set out at dawn the next day; after half a day’s mountain path, they reached the gate of the Daoist temple where Seven Seas Li Zhenren resided by noon.

Beyond the gate lay a stone staircase stretching endlessly into the distance!

The steps were extremely steep, uneven in height—climbing to the top would be no easy feat.

Li Xuan recalled: “When I studied medicine here before, I had to sweep these steps every morning. I counted them—exactly one hundred and eighty-eight!”

The three began climbing; though not as sheer as a ladder, the steps were still steep, and every ten or so steps required them to pause for breath.

The sun blazed overhead, heat rising; soon, all three were drenched in sweat.

Jiang Mingyu looked upward—the stone steps stretched dozens of zhang, still without end.

He clenched his fists inwardly; climbing so long a staircase would be grueling.

Li Xuan’s face had turned pale; he kept clutching his chest, clearly struggling.

Jiang Mingyu watched, unable to suppress a sigh.

“These steps are too long. To climb them on foot will exhaust us to death,” Jiang Mingyu muttered.

Yet the thought of meeting the Zhenren brought a flash of determination to his eyes.

The three advanced in intervals of rest and climbing, step by step upward.

Even Tu Kesiluo, with his excellent physical condition, was soaked through front and back.

Jiang Mingyu and Li Xuan felt as if their limbs were filled with lead, impossibly heavy.

Li Xuan, seeing a sliver of sky at the staircase’s end, felt a surge of joy: “After another twenty steps, we’ll reach the temple gate.”

“Finally… almost there!” Jiang Mingyu exhaled deeply, gazing at the scene ahead with a serene smile.

The destination was in sight—this arduous climb had been worth every step. The Zhenren was right before them; their goal was within reach!

After climbing the steps, the three finally reached the temple gate—but it was tightly shut.

Li Xuan pounded repeatedly on the heavy bronze door ring, trying to draw attention from within.

Yet after moments passed, the door remained locked.

“Is anyone there?!” Li Xuan shouted. “Master, it’s Xuanren—I’m back! Open the door!”

But there was no response from within.

Jiang Mingyu wondered: Was Seven Seas Li Zhenren deliberately avoiding them?

This gate, he suspected, would not open easily.

Seeing the door remain shut, Li Xuan’s face grew anxious.

He pounded the ring again and again, making the bronze bells clang loudly—but still, no one appeared.

“The Zhenren is clearly refusing to see outsiders,” Jiang Mingyu sighed. “It seems our journey will end in vain.”

Li Xuan turned to him, eyes filled with reluctance: “We’ve endured countless hardships to reach this mountain—how can we return empty-handed?”

He struck the door again with all his strength—the bronze gate rang out with a thunderous clang, as if the very rock wall trembled.

“Master!!!” he cried. “I’ve come under imperial command and with the Imperial Envoy to pay you homage! If you don’t open the door, you’ll incur the wrath of Heaven!”

After a long while, the door finally opened—and a young, beautiful woman stepped out, poised and graceful.

“Brother!” the woman called happily.

“You… who are you?” Li Xuan couldn’t recognize her. Her appearance differed from his memory, leaving him bewildered.

The woman: “Don’t you recognize me? It’s me—‘Qi Wu’!”

She was Li Xuan’s junior sister, Han Tian, nicknamed “Qi Wu.”

When Li Xuan left the mountain, she was only ten; now she was nearly seventeen—no wonder he didn’t recognize her.

“Oh… so you’re Qi Wu!” Li Xuan exclaimed in realization. “You’ve changed so much—I wouldn’t have recognized you!”

Li Xuan studied the young woman before him—she was no longer the little Qi Wu of his memory, but a beautiful, graceful girl.

Her face was as pale as snow, her eyes gentle, her nose straight, her lips slightly curved—drawing every man’s gaze.

Her rosy lips, radiant as blooming flowers, haunted every man’s dreams.

Her bright eyes seemed to hide countless mischievous thoughts, and countless shy secrets.

She wore a white robe that clung to her graceful curves, the fabric fine and smooth, shimmering faintly in the sunlight.

She looked as if she might take flight at any moment—reminding one of a celestial fairy in feathered robes.

No wonder he hadn’t connected her with the little girl he remembered—time had changed her too greatly.

“Wow… I didn’t know Physician Li had such a beautiful junior sister…” Tu Kesiluo, beside them, was instantly stunned by Qi Wu’s beauty.

Tu Kesiluo gazed at her luminous eyes and luscious lips, his heart fluttering.

A bachelor, he was filled with delight, his heart racing—he saw nothing else in the world, utterly entranced by her face.

A boundless joy surged within him, as if he’d encountered the most beautiful fairy on earth—how could he not be utterly captivated?

He had already imagined having children with her, naming them, planning their lives—he thought: if he could marry such a beauty, he’d be blissful every day, beyond his wildest dreams!

“Who is this…?”

Qi Wu, noticing Tu Kesiluo’s staring gaze, blushed and asked.

“This is the Imperial Envoy, Lord Jiang!” Li Xuan introduced.

“This is Grand Interior Guard Commander Tu,” he added, gesturing to Tu Kesiluo.

“Commander Tu, can you mind your manners? Can you wipe that drool off your chin? You’re being ridiculous!” Li Xuan shook his head at Tu Kesiluo’s expression, as if he meant to devour Qi Wu whole.

After introducing Jiang Mingyu and Tu Kesiluo, Li Xuan asked Qi Wu: “Is Master still here?”

Qi Wu: “Master is here—she’s busy in the alchemy chamber right now…” With that, Qi Wu ushered the three of them into the Daoist temple.

The three followed Qi Wu’s steps, passing through the gate corridor, front courtyard, and central courtyard, until they reached the Three Pure Ones Hall.

The temple’s structure was grand, with endless corridors encircling courtyards, filled with a rich aroma of alchemical pills.

Li Xuan ren claimed he needed to first seek his master’s permission, leaving Jiang Mingyu and Tukesiluo to wait, then turned and led Qi Wu toward the rear hall.

After some time passed without Li Xuan ren or Qi Wu returning, Jiang Mingyu, with nothing else to do, wandered with Tukesiluo through the temple grounds.

The two passed through a series of vermilion doors, arriving at one courtyard after another.

Each courtyard was filled with rare flowers and exotic herbs; lotuses bloomed in the ponds, willow branches swayed gently, and a soft breeze brought great comfort.

As they strolled, they came before a small house with a large chimney.

The house was modest in size but exquisitely crafted; its door lintels and window frames were painted with vivid, colorful patterns of birds and flowers.

From within came occasional crackling sounds, as if someone were busily at work.

“I was wondering… why does it smell like decocted medicine? Turns out it’s coming from here.”

Upon saying this, Tukesiluo curiously approached the house to investigate.

Inside, before the stove, crouched a nine-year-old girl, her face smeared with soot, her whole body filthy.

The girl had two thick braids, her face covered in dust, yet her large eyes were pitch-black and gleaming, radiating sharpness.

“Who are you? How did you come here?” the little girl called out loudly.

Jiang Mingyu found the girl’s mature speech amusing.

He replied: “I am of the Jiang family, named Mingyu, an imperial envoy commissioned to investigate a case. I have come to pay respects to the True Person Qi Hai Li.”

The girl frowned at them. “An imperial envoy? Investigating here?” She added: “Wait a moment…” Then she dashed out of the house, vanishing toward the rear mountain.

Jiang Mingyu watched closely; though not yet of age, the girl was remarkably intelligent, her large eyes gleaming with shrewdness.

Seeing her suddenly run off, he wondered whether she was going to report to Qi Hai Li or to summon someone to drive them away.

Tukesiluo was also puzzled: “That little girl vanished in a flash—could she be going to get people to chase us off?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jiang Mingyu smiled. “She’s going to report to Master Qi Hai Li. We’ve already announced ourselves—she won’t throw us out.”

Tukesiluo found this reasonable and stopped speculating.

The two stood outside the house waiting, when soon after, Qi Wu arrived with Li Xuan ren.

“Lord Jiang… so you’re here! No wonder I couldn’t find you!” Li Xuan ren exclaimed anxiously. “I’m truly sorry—we can’t find Master!”

Jiang Mingyu looked confused. “What? Master Qi Hai Li isn’t in the temple?”

“We’ve searched half the mountain and found nothing,” Qi Wu added. “I just saw her in the alchemy chamber—how could she vanish so quickly?”

“Not here either…?” Li Xuan ren muttered as he circled the small house. “This is strange… where could Master have gone?”

Jiang Mingyu recalled the little girl crouching by the stove. “Earlier, a little girl was watching the fire by the stove—perhaps we should ask her?”

“A little girl?!” Li Xuan ren and Qi Wu exclaimed in unison.

Jiang Mingyu nodded. “Yes, about nine years old.” As he spoke, he held his hand at the girl’s height.

“Oh my! That’s our master—True Person Qi Hai Li!”

Li Xuan ren slapped his forehead, suddenly understanding.

He then asked: “Then where did she run off to now?”

“That way,” Tukesiluo pointed toward the rear mountain.

Jiang Mingyu frowned, utterly baffled: “Why… is your master in the form of a little girl?”

Li Xuan ren explained: “When Master was nine, she accidentally swallowed my master’s Elder Reversion Pill—she hasn’t grown a single inch since!”

“Age-locking?!?!”

Jiang Mingyu was utterly astonished.

Li Xuan ren nodded. “Yes, only her appearance remains unchanged—her mind still matures with age.”

Jiang Mingyu finally understood. “Then may I ask… how old is True Person Qi Hai Li?”

“Seventy-eight!” came the voice of the little girl from the doorway of the house.

Now she wore a jet-black Daoist robe, smooth and supple, embroidered with a few auspicious clouds—deep and mysterious.

On her head rested a Murong jade hairpin, adorned with several fluttering white feathers.

In her hand she held a plain-feathered fly-whisk, its handle hung with small bronze bells that chimed softly with each step.

Now, Qi Hai Li’s brow radiated an unfathomable, divine aura; her bright eyes sparkled with hidden mysteries.

Her gait was brisk yet dignified; her large eyes clear and piercing, radiating sharpness.

A faint herbal fragrance emanated from her, as if she might vanish at any moment like a celestial immortal.

Every gesture she made was ethereal and alive, inspiring awe—she seemed ready to unleash mysterious arts at any instant.

Qi Hai Li herself appeared enveloped in Daoist celestial aura; compared to the filthy little girl moments before, she was utterly transformed—like two different people!

Jiang Mingyu stared at her, struggling to connect this radiant, immortal-like child with the soot-covered girl he’d seen by the stove.

Had it not been for her voice, he would have sworn this was someone else entirely.

Jiang Mingyu fixed his gaze on her, stunned by the extreme duality of her transformation.

Seeing Jiang Mingyu’s confusion, Qi Wu stepped forward and whispered in his ear: “Master rarely appears in this divine Daoist form—she clearly holds you in the highest regard.”

Li Xuan ren also leaned close, speaking softly: “Master never dresses like this unless absolutely necessary. Given her nature, she’d never bother to change like this.”

Hearing this, Jiang Mingyu felt a quiet joy within.

That the True Person honored him so deeply moved him deeply.

He knew today he would speak freely with her—clearly explain his mission. How perfect!