Chapter Six: The Demise of Body and Spirit

Zhuo’er Divine Lord’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You know well—it wasn’t me who did that.”

“Not you? Ha! Then how is it you’re the only one from the Yin clan who survived? Where were you when our master marched against the Five Realms? You know perfectly well how you seized the rule over the Six Realms. Why bother with these hollow displays of benevolence?”

Zhuo’er’s expression grew dim. “I know I’ve wronged her. All these years, I too have lived in agony.”

“At least you’re still alive. But what about our master? Death would have been enough, but you all destroyed her divine soul, condemning her to endless torment and annihilation. Are you gods or demons?”

“Qingtian, you were born from divine stone. You wouldn’t understand—those left alive suffer more.”

“Oh? If it’s as you say, so painful, why not just die yourself?”

“Qingtian…” Zhuo’er turned his back. “If I could, I’d rather have perished in her place.”

A dry laugh. “Our master was a demon god—if she died, she did so blazing and unbowed. ‘Spirited away’? She never cared for all that Daoist nonsense and its tedious rules. Don’t speak of her like that. She hated it.”

Zhuo’er managed a faint smile. “You’re right. She longed for freedom, always wild and unrestrained, even a little lazy.”

Qingtian broke a sweat.

“Everyone’s gone, can’t you leave her some dignity?” Their master hated being called lazy, though she was certainly the laziest of all. Had she not been born in the Yin clan, with her disposition, another twenty million years wouldn’t have seen her reach Immortal, let alone Divine.

“I forgot that was what she hated most.”

A fleeting tenderness crossed Zhuo’er’s face, but when he met Qingtian’s gaze, his expression hardened.

“Let that child go. Come with me. I promise no one will harm you. I’ll find you a quiet place for secluded cultivation—how about it?”

Qingtian snorted. “‘Secluded cultivation’? Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying you’ll lock me up so I can’t cause trouble? Such grand words for such petty deeds. How did our master never see through your sanctimonious hypocrisy? Tsk, tsk…”

“It’s been over a hundred thousand years, and you speak more like her every day.”

“I follow my master as I please. What, are you going to bite me?”

Zhuo’er restrained the urge to roll his eyes. As ruler of the Six Realms, he had to keep up appearances.

“You’d better leave that child. He can’t protect you.”

“If I heard correctly, that child is no ordinary one—he’s the son of Bai Ruo from Qingqiu. I never thought Bai Ruo would become a Divine Lord too. If our master were still here, with all these years gone by, she’d have achieved as much.”

“Bai Ruo is not one to be trifled with. If you remain with his son, he’ll surely eliminate you, and even I couldn’t save you.”

“Who needs your saving? Bai Ruo was betrothed to my master, and now he’s got a bastard son? No way—I’ll just follow this little fox to Qingqiu and teach that shameless fellow a lesson.”

At last, Zhuo’er couldn’t help but press a hand to his forehead. “Qingtian, are you courting death? That one, like me, is one of the Three Divine Lords. You don’t stand a chance. Listen—leave the child. I’ll speak to the Celestial Realm on your behalf.”

“Get lost! I don’t need help from a hypocrite like you. If I die, I’ll do it with earth-shaking grandeur, just as my master did.”

Zhuo’er gazed at him for a long moment. “So be it. Fate will take its course.”

With a light wave of his right hand, the Celestial Realm returned to normal.

“Little one, keep this stone for now. Take good care of it, will you?”

Bai Pu paused, feeling something odd had just happened.

“Little one?”

Bai Pu looked up, pouting. “Uncle, what do you mean, ‘for now’? Why put it with me?”

…

“…”

“And you call yourself a Divine Lord? What shameless words…” The voice was soft, but among immortals, nothing escapes the ear.

Just then, Taibai, who had hurried back from the lower world, quickly pulled Bai Pu behind him and bowed to Zhuo’er. “Divine Lord, why have you come?”

He glanced around. “Only a Divine Lord like yourself could subdue a great beast like Qingtian.”

Bai Pu rolled his eyes. That big stone just now—wasn’t that Qingtian? A beast of the century? So stupid, even giving me a rock!

“Is there any instruction from you, Divine Lord?”

Zhuo’er shook his head. “No, Qingtian wasn’t subdued by me.”

“Oh… ah!” Taibai’s mouth dropped open wide enough for three eggs. “Then which overreaching deity did it? No celestial here could manage it—otherwise, I wouldn’t have found the temple in ruins when I returned. What a mess—the unlucky ones will have plenty to clean up.”

Zhuo’er pointed at the little fox behind Taibai. “It was him.”

Taibai followed his finger, then his eyes widened. “My goodness!” He scooped Bai Pu up into his palm. “Little prince, you’re incredible!”

Bai Pu shoved away the huge face looming over him. “Get lost! Don’t rub my feet!”

“No, no, little prince, you’re my favorite!”

Zhuo’er kept his customary gentle smile as he approached Bai Pu and reached out his hand.

Bai Pu retreated, climbing onto Taibai’s shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid.” Zhuo’er gently twisted the black obsidian divine stone hanging from Bai Pu’s neck, then formed a secret seal. “Don’t let your father see this—otherwise, it might not remain yours.”

With that, Zhuo’er teleported ten paces away, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll take my leave. Take good care of it.”

“Of course, Divine Lord! Take care!”

Standing on Taibai’s shoulder, Bai Pu rolled his eyes again. But when things quieted down, he felt as if the uncle’s words had been meant just for him.

Bai Pu looked down quietly at the black stone hanging from his neck. Was he asking me to take care of you?

After a bit, Bai Pu left the Celestial Realm, despite Taibai’s endless reluctance.

He formed a seal, washed the tears Taibai had smeared on his feet, and wore a look of utter disgust.

…

Jiang Lan lay in bed for over half a month. The only progress he made was expanding his activity range from his own courtyard to wandering the entire attached school.

The Duke of Wei’s mansion was divided into east and west wings: the east housed the main branch, including the heir and the old duke; the west, the eldest young lady and the third master.

Though the estate was split, meals and expenses were shared. In earlier years, when the main branch was intact, the lady of the heir managed the household. After she and her husband died in misfortune, the third master’s wife took over. When she too passed, the third master himself handled things.

Under Jiang Yu’s stewardship, the estate’s accounts were a mess. Aside from the dowries of the two wives, everything that could be squandered was wasted away.

When the eldest young lady Jiang Si grew up a bit, she couldn’t bear it any longer. At just seven years old, still a child, she took on this heavy burden.

To the servants, the old Duke, crippled with a leg ailment, had stayed secluded in his small courtyard for years; the third master was a reckless spendthrift whose best virtue was not ruining things further; the heir was a timid and inept fellow who took no responsibility. Their only hope was the eldest young lady.

Recently, she’d brought up leaving home to do business again, raising concerns among the staff. The Chen Dynasty was not like other nations—strict with women, especially those of noble birth. She’d already drawn gossip by managing the household; if she went out to trade, the family’s reputation would surely suffer.

…

“Is the estate short of money?”

A few maids, sighing under the corridor, looked up to see Jiang Lan approaching in a blue robe and white jade coronet, the morning sun casting a gentle warmth over him, making him seem almost beautiful.

No, that must be an illusion. How could the heir possibly be called beautiful?

“Greetings, young master.” The maids quickly stood and curtsied properly before hurrying away.

Jiang Lan pressed his lips together. Everyone in the household avoided him. At first, he thought it was due to rumors of possession by an evil spirit. Only recently did he learn that, orphaned young, he’d become extremely withdrawn, kept only two maids and an old woman, and had forbidden all other servants from approaching his quarters.

So, whenever he appeared, the staff either avoided him or bowed from afar, not daring to invite misfortune.

A few years back, a foolish servant bumped into him and was beaten half to death, poisoned mute, and sold off.

Now, no one dared provoke the eccentric heir.

When Jiang Lan discovered this, he just sighed. Perhaps, being a woman in disguise, the original owner had no choice—if her secret was revealed, no amount of imperial favor could save the Jiang family from execution for deceiving the sovereign.

Straightening his robe, Jiang Lan shamelessly made his way to Jiang Si’s quarters in the west wing—Siwan Pavilion.

He read the bold, unrestrained characters on the signboard, signed “Daoist Mingqian,” and couldn’t help but admire them.

“What fine calligraphy! I wonder what sort of person could write such characters?”

A laugh came from inside. “Young master, have you forgotten? Daoist Mingqian is the third master’s courtesy name.”

A woman with a smile like a spring flower approached. She looked to be in her early twenties, dignified and steady. Some years back, she’d been promised by Miss Jiang Si to the house steward’s youngest son.

“Oh? Chunming, you’re quite knowledgeable.”

Jiang Lan remembered her. Though his cousin Jiang Si rarely visited, she’d sent plenty of gifts and supplements through Chunming.

By all accounts, Chunming got on well with the original owner—a bright, straightforward person.

“Madam’s name contains the character ‘Wan.’”

Chunming lowered her voice, mindful of other people in the courtyard and not wanting to sadden her mistress if she overheard.

Jiang Lan nodded. It seemed his third uncle had his redeeming qualities—not just a gambler, but at least a devoted husband.

“Is my sister here?”

His cousin managed everything for the family; though there were many under her, she was perpetually busy. Jiang Lan wasn’t sure if she was in.

“You’ve come at just the right time, young master. Miss has just returned from outside. However…”

Noticing Chunming’s hesitance, Jiang Lan’s expression grew serious. “If there’s something, speak up. Don’t be so hesitant—I can’t stand it.”

Chunming sighed. “It’s the matter of the shops…”