Chapter 9: Chop Them Down at the Gate!

Rumors are something some believe and others do not.

Especially after Ji You returned home and never emerged again, soon someone seized on the logical absurdities in the rumor and meticulously argued that Ji You was not an immortal.

This man’s name was Wang San, and he lived by Nan Ya River.

Two and a half years ago, he also worked for the Ji family, but was expelled for petty theft.

On the day the Ji family suffered misfortune, he was the first to cheer; now that he heard Ji You was an immortal, he simply could not accept it.

During this time, some had countered with the fact that the Qiu family’s young girl had returned safely, but all were shut down with a single retort: “Set that aside for now.”

But then, a group of households with modest wealth in the county arrived at the Paifang Street, bringing rice, grain, poultry, and livestock, waiting anxiously at the gate—this silenced Wang San.

These households who came to Paifang Street had seized portions of the Ji family’s property during their misfortune, sipping from the same sweet broth.

Things they could not carry away during their flight—oxen, utensils, farming tools—had all been thoroughly divided among them.

Two years of peace had made them feel utterly secure; especially since they had seen Young Master Ji idling in the streets, doing nothing, they believed seizing his property was only fair.

Until Master Fang had just summoned them to the government office and revealed the truth.

Thus, in their terror of impending doom, they sat uneasily, gathered whatever they could, and hurried here to beg forgiveness.

But the Ji residence remained firmly shut, no one answered, leaving them drenched in cold sweat.

Finally, someone sharp-witted pointed them toward a clear path, so they hurried to the city outskirts and returned everything to the Qiu family.

“These people, they’ve long been close to Master Fang, and even seized two fen of our grain fields…”

“It seems the rumors in the county are true…”

“Hey hey hey, none of you gawkers—leave at once! No crowds or noise before the immortal’s gate!”

As the crowd chattered, a group of government office runners arrived wielding their awe-striking batons, several with slightly swollen cheeks.

And at that moment, the Ji family immortal’s reputation truly began to strike fear across the land.

In truth, County Magistrate Fang Zhongzheng also wished to come and beg forgiveness.

That morning, he went out on official business with the serving staff, returned home to find his garden of chrysanthemums ruined, flew into a rage, then heard from his servants about Ji You—and fell silent for a long while.

Who could have imagined that the son-in-law he once looked down upon had now made even the Fengxian Mountain Villa dare not utter a single word?

But just as he stepped out the door, his daughter blocked him.

“Father, your daughter will also be an immortal of the Heavenly Book Academy—merely a little later than Ji You in starting. Why must you grovel so?”

“Ruoyao, immortal matters are no joking matter.”

“If you truly go to beg forgiveness, won’t you confirm to the entire county that I abandoned him two years ago, that I broke my marital vows?!”

Fang Ruoyao already carried the aura of an immortal; her firm stance made Fang Zhongzheng abandon his plan to visit the Ji residence.

He did not know how cultivation truly worked, but he felt his daughter’s words held some truth—if both were students of the Heavenly Book Academy, neither should be beneath the other.

Just as he was about to sit down for tea and carefully review his grain ledgers, he saw Cao Jingsong stride out of the government office, sword in hand, furious, then shot into the sky, cursing loudly.

“Little An, where is… where is Immortal Cao going?”

“Master, Immortal Cao sensed spiritual energy passing through the air—he says the Fengxian Mountain Villa has returned, trying to recruit Young Master Ji. Immortal Cao is furious and plans to cut them down at the gate, one sword apiece.”

The servant assigned to serve the two immortals spoke, then hurried after him.

Listening to the continuous curses echoing through the air, Fang Zhongzheng fell silent for a long while, then gathered some silver and rushed to the Qiu family outside the city.

Aside from Fang Zhongzheng, the households that seized the Ji family’s property, and the immortals of the Fengxian Mountain Villa, others also wished to see Ji You.

At dusk, the sun dipped below the western hills, the sky grew still.

Kuangcheng circled through the back alley and arrived before the Ji ancestral home, pausing before the faded red characters on the crumbling door couplets.

After news of Ji You reached the Kuang family, since the elders knew the two had been childhood friends, they sent him to pay his respects—after all, in this world, allying with an immortal might be a lifeline.

He was bolder than others; after a moment’s hesitation, he pushed open the gate and stepped inside, arriving at the second courtyard of the Ji ancestral home.

During their flight, the Ji family had cleared out all furnishings, leaving only broken bricks, shattered pottery shards scattered among knee-high weeds now sprouting faint green moss—already desolate.

“The world is strange indeed—when the people are gone, the grass grows lush.”

Kuangcheng froze slightly, looked up—and Ji You’s voice came from within the room, as if he had sensed him long ago.

This, perhaps, was the marvel of cultivation.

Kuangcheng stood at the door, stared into the room for a long while, then spoke: “These past two days, even when people shouted insults through the wall calling you a coward afraid of death, you pretended not to hear—were you truly cultivating hard to break through your realm?”

“What? Someone dared to shout through the wall that I’m a coward afraid of death?”

Kuangcheng rubbed his nose: “No, no, I must’ve misheard.”

Ji You fell silent for a moment, then his voice came from within: “I wanted to interact with you all as an ordinary man, but all I got was distance. I’m done pretending—I’m laying it all out.”

Kuangcheng stepped forward again: “So when you heard me mention the Heavenly Book Academy that evening, you weren’t thinking of asking Fang Ruoyao for help—you were planning to become a disciple yourself?”

“How could anyone place hope in a woman who rushed to break off her engagement the moment her fiancé’s family collapsed?”

“So that’s it…”

Kuangcheng gave a self-deprecating laugh.

The world says scholars are rigid and foolish—he once thought that merely a prejudice.

But after this experience, he realized that when trouble came, all he could do was open his mouth to curse—and even then, he couldn’t tell who the right person to curse was.

Kuangcheng paused, then stiffly bowed: “Young Master Ji, Kuang has shown you disrespect in the past. After learning of this, my father scolded me severely. Tonight, I wish to host a banquet at home to apologize.”

Ji You fell silent for a moment, then replied: “No need. I’ve already eaten. Go home.”

“A cup of thin wine—surely that won’t hurt?”

“Leave.”

Kuangcheng stood stunned for a long while, then bowed and said farewell, turning to walk away.

He was not a man to flatter or curry favor; had his family not forced him, he might never have set foot here. Seeing the other showed no gratitude, he naturally would not linger.

In truth, he felt a slight relief—his childhood friend still carried kindness in his heart. That was enough.

As for past friendship, Kuangcheng would not dwell on it.

Ji You was now a disciple of the Heavenly Book Academy, fully accomplished in the lower three realms—his status noble, transcendent, utterly distant from Kuangcheng, a commoner in plain clothes.

He still remembered how Fang Ruoyao had been the same—suddenly grown haughty.

She herself had explained it was because immortals needed a pure heart, unmoved by gain or loss, so they could ascend the Dao—not because she looked down on old friends.

Whether true or not, he could accept it.

But just as Kuangcheng stepped out the door, a loud crash echoed from within—the sound of overturned furniture—and a muffled groan, as if someone had fallen.

Kuangcheng paused, then his expression changed—he stepped into the room.

Ji You sat slumped on the floor, left hand resting on the overturned wooden chair, lips covered in blood, staining his white robe with a large crimson patch.

Some of it had already darkened—clearly spilled earlier, now dried.

“Didn’t tell you to come in, yet you insist—foolish child! Now that my Coughing Blood Technique is complete, I’ll use you to test it!”

“?”

Kuangcheng stared at him in silence for a long while—believed not a word.

Ji You, seeing he didn’t believe, fell silent beside him.

(End of Chapter)