Chapter 30: Return to Xianyang

Chapter 30: Return to Xianyang

Crash!

A blizzard of spirit money rained down, swirling in the wind.

The funeral procession moved slowly forward, the wind itself seeming to carry mournful whispers.

Though the Li family hailed from Li Village Fortress, Li Yan’s own branch had dwindled, leaving him without close elders.

Thankfully, Wang Daoxuan oversaw the arrangements while Sha Lifei handled logistics. Neighbors and villagers pitched in, ensuring the elder’s funeral was conducted with utmost propriety.

From selecting the burial site to crafting the coffin, arranging the wake, and final interment, even the seasoned village chief Li Huairen secretly gave a thumbs-up, spending half the evening praising Wang Daoxuan’s efforts.

As for Li Yan, he buried his grief in ceaseless work.

Only this way could he momentarily forget his sorrow.

With his last living relative gone, he now walked the world alone. He’d known this desolation before—in his past life. That’s why, even in this life, he’d clung to village life, staying by his grandfather’s side through its quiet monotony.

On the seventh night after the death, he’d even activated his divine abilities all night, hoping to catch his grandfather’s familiar scent. But nothing came.

In this haze of grief, weeks passed as the funeral formalities concluded.

………

Now mid-autumn, the air turned crisp.

Rumble!

Thunder rolled with the autumn rain.

“This shrine construction ritual will cost a fortune…”

Wang Daoxuan scribbled notes with his brush pen. “Incense, candles, paper offerings, ink, cinnabar… We’ll need at least five years’ worth of supplies from the Mystic Gate Grand Temple Altar. Of course, we’ll have to buy them ourselves.”

“These disposable ritual tools are secondary concerns. To succeed, we’ll also need to borrow high-grade altar-stabilizing artifacts and locate a prime geomantic site.”

“The greater the mountains and rivers, the stronger the Grotto Paradises and Sacred Lands’ innate vitality. The better our chances. I know the Xianyang City God Temple’s master. Through his recommendation, we could hold the ritual at the Taibai Mountain Grotto Heaven Daoist Retreat—but we’ll still need to pay handsomely.”

He sighed bitterly. “Mystic Gate orthodox practitioners emphasize accumulating spiritual merit, but every step forward demands coin. The Dao demands gold as much as cultivation.”

Li Yan, possessing the Great Luo Dharma Body, no longer feared spirit preservation dissolving.

Unaware of this, Wang Daoxuan naturally fretted.

Li Yan shook his head. “Master Wang, no need to worry. My divine abilities have stabilized. Let’s proceed steadily. Rushing will only bring disaster.”

Rattle!

At that moment, the courtyard gate creaked open.

Sha Lifei strode in, drenched, his straw raincoat and bamboo hat dripping.

“Good news! Finally over…”

Beaming, he flung his raincoat aside and barged in. “I’ve confirmed it—Lord Lu’s concubine and Zhao Cheng suddenly sold all their farmland days ago. They scammed several families out of deposits and vanished.”

“This matter’s behind us!”

Wang Daoxuan nodded thoughtfully. “Fleeing with stolen funds? They’ve burned their bridges. Those folks must’ve left Guanzhong. We’ll be safe if we stay cautious.”

Their wariness wasn’t unwarranted.

In Jianghu’s underworld, anyone mobilizing such forces—commanding Guanzhong’s elite swordsmen—was a power player.

Crushing them would be like squashing ants.

“Glad that’s settled.”

Sha Lifei grinned. “Stuck in this village, I’ve gone stir-crazy! With your skills and my connections, we’ll thrive.”

“Let’s head straight to Chang’an!”

The trio planned to partner, profiting from Mystic Gate work.

With Li Yan aiding Wang Daoxuan, they’d finally dare accept bigger cases.

Sha Lifei, shameless and smooth-tongued, knew Jianghu’s every rule—perfect for sniffing out lucrative jobs.

Yet Mystic Gate’s path wasn’t easy.

Like Jianghu, only established reputations attracted clients.

“Chang’an?”

Wang Daoxuan chuckled. “Do you know what Chang’an is? The ancient Tang capital, once the nation’s Mystic Gate hub. Master Ye’s lone journey there earned eternal fame.”

“Even with the capital moved north, Chang’an remains a Mystic Gate stronghold. Orthodox sects, regional lineages, left-hand path sects—all have formidable experts. It’s a den of tigers and dragons. We’re not ready.”

“To Xianyang then.”

Li Yan suddenly spoke, his gaze cold beyond the window.

“Master Wang’s roots are there. We’ll have local advantages.”

“And I have unfinished business…”

………

Near Xianyang’s City God Temple, an old street bustled with incense shops and funeral parlors. Unlike ordinary businesses, these waited for clients rather than advertising.

“Coffins for sale! Buy big, get small free!”

Such cries would see a shop smashed overnight.

Even speech followed strict rules.

A customer buying a coffin was asked, “Whose arrangements are you making?”

Once ordered, coffins might sit years in storage—shops dared not deliver until summoned.

Taboos abounded.

Thus, business lagged, especially during these rainy days. Shopkeepers gathered, playing chess and chatting.

“Hey, heard Wang Laonian’s back?”

“Didn’t he die?”

“No, apparently he left to order a coffin and dodged the funeral.”

“What a coward! Lucky bastard.”

“More—heard he’s recruited two men. They’re sniffing around for jobs.”

“Heh. With his skills?”

The shopkeepers sneered. Though half-outsiders themselves, they knew Mystic Gate’s trade, even associating with sorcerers. Referring clients earned commissions.

They recognized Wang Daoxuan’s name but spat derision without grudges—simply human nature. Mocking a fallen Mystic Gate practitioner made them feel powerful.

A figure passed outside, umbrella in hand.

Hearing their talk, he glanced coldly but kept walking.

Li Yan.

Back in Xianyang seven days, they’d tidied Wang Daoxuan’s ancestral home, then scoured the city for news.

Mystic Gate work proved tough.

The elite sought Tai Xuan Orthodox Sect directly. Lesser clients turned to rising sect disciples.

Rural areas had local spirit mediums—territories fiercely guarded. Outsiders risked magical duels.

Mystic Gate rivalries rivaled Jianghu bloodshed, though rarely seen by common folk.

Li Yan remained patient, frequenting teahouses and taverns. His goals: learn who needed help, and track Zhou Pan’s Divine Boxing Society.

Chang’an’s brothel where his father died had burned to ashes.

Now, only Zhou Pan—the suspicious figure then—remained as a lead.

But Zhou Pan was no easy target.

This old monkey mastered Transformational Strength, dominated Xianyang’s underworld, and commanded countless disciples. Street thugs obeyed his every word.

Forcing answers required perfect timing.

As he mused, Li Yan reached the Asking Dao Pavilion.

“Got work!”

Sha Lifei sprinted in before he entered.

Back in their courtyard, Sha Lifei smirked. “Only I could pull this off!”

“A Huayin shadow puppet troupe’s setting up in Xianyang. An old pal’s with them—they need Mystic Gate help.”

Li Yan’s eyes lit. “Shadow puppetry?”

Huayin troupes specialized in Old Tune.

Though both originated from Guanzhong, Old Tune differed from Qinqiang Opera. The former hailed from eastern prefectures, the latter western, one traditional theater, the other shadow puppetry.

He’d seen Old Tune in Lantian County once—fascinating stuff.

“Exactly!”

Sha Lifei nodded. “Payment might be meager, but you know—puppet troupes all belong to the Liu family. A successful job spreads our name.”

Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard. “What do they need?”

Sha Lifei grinned. “Hear they want a Soul Infusion ritual—inviting divine presence.”

At this, Wang Daoxuan’s face darkened.

“This job—we cannot take it!”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end