Chapter 300

The troupe members were all ordinary mortals, unlike cultivators who did not need sleep.

Thus, the caravan traveled slowly, stopping and starting along the way—journeying by day, resting by night; when inns were available, they stayed there, and when none were found, they simply pitched tents to endure the deep night.

While everyone slept, Ji You would continue cultivating spiritual energy and refining his body in some secluded spot nearby.

Day after day passed like this, and after an impossibly long journey, the troupe's carts finally returned to Pingyang County.

Pingxi County lay in the southeast of Yunzhou, outside the mining region.

The local people still lived by farming, rising with the sun and resting when it set.

When the troupe arrived in the county, a spring rain had just begun to fall; from afar, mist and drizzle blurred the scene.

Upon entering the city, the four weary carts slowed gradually and came to a halt before a courtyard with a sign reading "Fengxian Troupe."

The troupe members leapt down from the carts and began unloading their luggage.

They worked tirelessly until midday, when the spring rain lessened slightly, and one of the carts headed east.

Two hours later, the troupe master appeared on a slanting alley, carrying wine and meat, accompanied by the young female lead and the martial male role.

Along the street, wooden scaffolds dotted every side—houses under repair, some with collapsed walls now patched up, others with collapsed roofs entirely abandoned.

Ji You followed behind them, his gaze sweeping over the houses.

"The repairs after the snow disaster only began now?"

"Did you hear about the snow disaster too?"

Ji You nodded: "I've heard a little about it."

The troupe master sighed softly: "We were on a job then and got stranded in Qingzhou, unable to return home. We spent the entire winter in anguish, learning how badly our hometown had been hit—but thankfully, all our family survived."

"Who paid for the repairs?"

"I don't know. We had no ancestral home in the city—we always lived outside, in Xujia Kou. Only after the snow disaster did we realize living inside the city was safer, so we used our life's savings to buy some dilapidated houses whose original owners no longer wished to repair."

The troupe master stepped over a patch of mud and stopped before a courtyard gate: "Here we are."

Ji You looked up and saw a courtyard with green-gray tiles: "Though secluded, it's quite spacious."

"We pooled our money to buy it. Right after purchasing, we hired workers to repair it, to serve as a home for our elders—my uncle and senior uncles live here, and even our grandmaster resides here."

As he spoke, the troupe master led everyone inside through the gate.

Inside the courtyard, two middle-aged men, their hair turning white, were polishing old jade-belt opera costumes.

Seeing the troupe flood in, they looked up and smiled.

"Back already?"

"Uncle, Senior Uncle, we're back. Where's Master?"

"Your master took another job. How was your journey?"

"We performed for eight days—the employer suddenly refused to let us perform the final show…"

The young female lead glanced at the troupe master, bit her lip, and swallowed her suspicion that the Lang family's ancestral spirit had risen from the grave.

The troupe master handed the wine and meat to the older of the two: "Senior Uncle, how is Grandmaster doing?"

"His spirit is still good, he eats well, and these past few days he's been constantly wondering why you hadn't returned yet—now you're finally here. Oh, who's this…?"

"Oh yes, Senior Uncle, Uncle—I brought a friend back with me this time."

The troupe master's uncle and senior uncle had already noticed Ji You; after staring for a long while, they snapped back to awareness: "Your friend…?"

The troupe master nodded: "This young lord is someone I met on the road. He's deeply interested in our opera 'Immortal Saves the World'—wants to know what happened afterward. I didn't know either, so I brought him along to meet Grandmaster."

As they spoke, an elderly man with white hair and beard stepped out from the main hall opposite the gate.

He gripped a bamboo cane and shuffled slowly across the threshold, glancing outside.

Few live past seventy, yet this old man still looked spirited—though his legs were unsteady.

"Wencai's back, eh…"

"Grandmaster, we're back."

At once, the troupe master stepped forward, recounted the events of their journey, then leaned close to the elder's ear and whispered.

The old man listened, then glanced twice at Ji You: "For an opera?"

The troupe master nodded at Grandmaster's hoarse question: "I saw he had no other motive—he asked nothing but questions about the opera. Seems like a true fan. I dared bring him along."

Grandmaster studied Ji You for a long while, then coughed softly twice: "Invite him into the front hall."

"Young lord, our Grandmaster invites you to the front hall."

The troupe master turned and called out.

Ji You bowed in thanks, then stepped forward toward Grandmaster and followed him into the front hall.

The young female lead and martial male role had already sat down in the courtyard; seeing Ji You head toward the front hall, they looked puzzled.

They had traveled with Ji You from Zhongzhou to Yunzhou and knew he came for the opera's story.

But in their view, their troupe strictly upheld its rules—this man would likely waste his journey.

Yet they never expected the young lord was actually invited inside.

The front hall had decent lighting, so even on this gloomy day, the room remained bright.

The frail Grandmaster gestured for Ji You to sit, then struggled to pour tea for him—but Ji You waved him off, took the teapot himself, and poured a cup.

"Your health is still good."

"Just an old skeleton—nothing left to live for. I heard from Wensheng you're interested in our opera."

Ji You held the teacup and nodded: "I've inquired for a long time—shadow puppetry, three-string ballads—I've heard them all, but they were all fragmented tales. Only recently, after hearing a few of your troupe's performances, did I begin to piece together the full story."

The frail elder fell silent for a long while: "You've traveled so far—what exactly about this opera intrigues you?"

Ji You had told the troupe master he wanted to know the ending of the final act—but now that explanation sounded clumsy.

No one would journey from Zhongzhou to Yunzhou merely to learn the ending of an opera.

After a long pause, Ji You spoke: "I seem to have some connection to the people in the story. I have questions—but no one I asked knew anything. I once overheard fragments of it in a teahouse, and followed those clues here."

"So you're searching for the people in the story? But I only know the one who wrote it."

"The writer will do. May I ask, where did he hear this story?"

The troupe's Grandmaster spoke in a hoarse voice: "My own grandmaster, as a child, was saved by an immortal. This story was based on that immortal's deeds."

At these words, Ji You's brow lifted slightly.

Before arriving, he had assumed the elder members of the troupe might not know the story's origin—or perhaps only knew rumors.

If that were true, he would have abandoned his search.

For no matter what, he had already embarked on the path of body refinement; whatever the outcome, he must continue.

Yet he never imagined he'd actually found the story's source.

At that thought, Ji You recalled the boy character in the opera.

He had few lines, seemed insignificant, and never appeared in other performances—but in this troupe's opera, he was never cut.

Now it seemed his intuition was right—the boy was likely one of the troupe's ancestors.

After long thought, Ji You spoke: "Besides the opera's content, did your grandmaster say anything else about this immortal?"

The elder fell silent for a long while: "I can tell you about my grandmaster's life."

"Please."

"My grandmaster's name was Cui Rong."

Amid the drizzling rain, the elder spoke slowly in his hoarse, weak voice.

His grandmaster, Cui Rong, had been a homeless orphan who begged for food, surviving alongside other children of similar fate, mingling among all walks of life.

When they grew slightly older, these children, desperate to eat, followed a few older boys into gambling dens.

Supposedly, those older boys were clever, gifted at gambling, and even as children, their skills had reached a divine level.

So one handled theft, another handled gambling—and they managed to survive.

But one day, they didn't stop in time and won too much, drawing the attention of the den's owner, who nearly killed them.

At that critical moment, they were saved by an old man radiating divine light.

Unlike the opera's tale of a wandering immortal saving the world, this old man was no passerby—he was a regular at that very gambling den.

Cui Rong often saw him at the table, knew him as a shabby-looking man with terrible gambling skills, sometimes even cheating—but never imagined he was an immortal.

Ji You frowned slightly: "I know cultivators can use spiritual sense to see through dice cups."

The troupe's Grandmaster paused slightly: "I don't know about that. I only relay the story as it was told to me."