When the three Xuanyin elders had sealed Xi Ping in the Impassable Sea, it had amounted to forcibly suppressing information about “the ungovernable way” and “the Zhou family raising demons,” but there was no such thing as a wall that didn’t let the air through. The tolling of the Bell of Tribulation in the East Sea couldn’t hide anything from the other immortal mountains. If someone with their mind set on it took a look at the chaos within Great Wan, they would get some idea. 

While Qiu Sha was dead, Xuanwu and his disciple, as well as Yu Chang, who had escaped Tao County bearing the blame for all manner of things, were still living. For those who ought to know, reincarnation wood was no longer a secret. 

The fact that Xuanyin Mountain had never said anything about it came down to rather complicated reasons. 

One important reason was that an ascended spirit of the ungovernable way was fully fledged and wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of anymore. Never mind that they couldn’t catch him to begin with, even if they did catch him, they might end up having to request the aid of the great divine tool of the mountains. Xi Ping’s crimes didn’t merit that. Anyway, Xuanyin couldn’t afford to lose him. 

For another reason, on the surface, Xi Ping was still to this day a formal disciple of Flying Jade Peak.

Among the reasons it had needed the Unbound Furnace to repair Zhaoting was first that Zhaoting had broken under very special circumstances, and of the extant members of the way of toolmaking, none had such high cultivation; also, it was missing a piece. It was incredibly dangerous for a divine tool of this grade to get chipped or cracked, never mind simply getting a hole in it. And in the end, while General Zhi clearly knew that he would die if his vital sword couldn’t be repaired, and that Xi Ping’s true body had already escaped the Impassable Sea, so that shard could be taken back any time, the shard of Zhaoting still wouldn’t come out… Fortunately, the Golden Hand was dependable. In the end, he had succeeded in repairing Zhaoting, reforging it a sliver thinner than before. 

At this point, Zhi Xiu’s attitude was very unequivocal. 

He would perhaps be the youngest shed skin in history, a future pillar of Xuanyin. 

There had by now been a serious reshuffling within Xuanyin. Zhao Yin was dead, and the positions of both the Dignitary of Fate and the new Dignitary of Rites were very ambivalent… And on top of that, while Xi Ping himself said that he couldn’t let the matter between him and Xuanyin rest, he wasn’t an orphan—his parents, as well as his maternal family, with many members and a large business, were all in Jinping, and even if another century passed and his ties to the mortal world more or less severed, there was still Zhou Ying, and there was still Zhi Xiu. If he truly did want to rise in revolt, the shard of Zhaoting in his spirit wouldn’t necessarily shield him. 

At any rate, owing to all of the above reasons, Xuanyin Mountain had simply left the matter unmentioned, pretending to the outside world that no such thing existed. They only secretly placed many eyes in the vicinity of the Yongning Marquis Manor. 

“I won’t guess. Wait a moment.” Zhou Ying shot a talisman at the dog’s head. The droplets of snow wine immediately froze solid. He flicked the frozen dog so it rolled a couple of times on the table, no longer spilling all over the place. “I thought you’d gone to the Land of Turmoil to catch up with that friend of yours. What damn place are you using for your seclusion, anyway? How can you still have an ear out for everything?” 

“A-Xiang? Why would I want to catch up with her? She’s so poor she rattles, and she’s got a family to feed. She doesn’t even know where her own next meal is coming from… Well, that’s not important.” 

Zhou Ying was looking at him expressionlessly. 

Xi Ping: “…” 

Well, he’d better make a clean breast of it. 

Back in Western Chu, Xi Ping had first thoroughly smeared Xuanwu, Xiang Rong, and Zhuoming; they had all died or fled, anyway, so even if any of them saw it, they wouldn’t be able to come take it up with him for the moment. Then he had examined himself and thought that this was rather improper; after all, an ascended spirit getting his revenge by spreading rumors could be called a singular unprecedented act since the beginning of time. 

If he went on like this, when shifu came out of seclusion in a hundred years, the first thing he would do would be to kick him out of his peak.  

So he had foisted the Embellished Toilet Papers, that miracle it sullied the ears to hear of, onto san-ge, while he himself, following A-Xiang’s clues, had run off to the Land of Turmoil with the Unbound Furnace’s furnace flame to search for the hidden realm Qiu Sha had neglected. Qiu Sha had left behind quite a few of Lancang’s ancient texts. “Tai Sui,” the “self-made genius” who had learned from a bunch of evil cultivators in Wild Fox Country, at last had an opportunity to cram some orthodox cultivation. 

But, after all, Qiu Sha had split this hidden realm open. There were people other than Xi Ping who coveted it—it wasn’t long before those three ascended spirits of the Land of Turmoil who had nearly founded a nation had also found their way to it following some clues. 

Zhou Ying said, “And here I was wondering how, with the four great immortal mountains besieging them, those three evil cultivators could still run away. It turns out that you had a hand in it.” 

“It was nothing,” Xi Ping said modestly, “no trouble at all.” 

Zhou Ying: “…” 

This scoundrel could turn any sarcastic remark into praise for himself. 

“I didn’t do it for their sakes. Since A-Xiang killed the Exonerators’ White Amaranth, over the years, the division of power in the Land of Turmoil has basically stabilized. If those three got carried away with their success and all died at once, the other evil cultivators would be racking their brains to fill their positions, and the Turmoilers would have an even harder time of it. Don’t worry, I didn’t reveal myself, and I didn’t leave any traces,” Xi Ping said. “But once that hidden realm was completely exposed, there was certainly no way to stay there, so there was nothing else I could do. I had to follow those three home.” 

Zhou Ying unconsciously tilted his head. He suspected that he was so drunk on snow wine that his ears were ringing. “You had to what?” 

The dog Xi Ping—who, because he was frozen, had his head half-turned awkwardly, as if he had a stiff neck—said from this uncomfortable posture, “I went to their den to scrounge spiritual stones. My true body was hidden in a reincarnation wood seed. I found a corner in one of their hidden realms and put down roots. These great ascended spirit evil cultivators are so rich. They’ve saved up so many spiritual stones. Shouldn’t they pay back the favor of saving their lives with their bodies…no, I mean, with a fountain of favor?” 

As if his hands were stiff, Zhou Ying slowly massaged his palm in order to keep himself from slamming that dog flat. In a reasonably calm tone, he asked, “When did this happen?” 

Xi Ping said with immense self-satisfaction, “The seed I buried has grown as tall as a person.” 

Zhou Ying said, “Are the three ascended spirit masters of the Land of Turmoil so ill-informed that they haven’t heard that the ungovernable way has a master now?” 

“Of course they’ve heard. They’ve pulled up all the reincarnation wood trees within a twenty li radius,” Xi Ping said. “I didn’t say I was a reincarnation wood tree. They think I’m a crooked scatter-leaf poplar.” 

The scatter-leaf poplar was a common type of tree. The texture of its wood was about the same as reincarnation wood, similarly soft and making for poor timber. This tree was easy to grow, and it had an auspicious name, making people associate it with “branches spreading and leaves scattering far and wide¹”; when there was a newlywed couple in the house, people usually liked to plant a few of these trees in the yard—unlike reincarnation wood, which only made people think of dying and reincarnating, and was used specially for memorial tablets. 

The only problem was that the reason the scatter-leaf poplar was called the scatter-leaf poplar was that this tree’s leaves separated into petals like a flower. It was very distinctive. The reincarnation wood’s coarse rotten leaves were nothing like that. 

“It’s no big deal,” Xi Ping said. “My true body is inside the tree. When it grows new leaves, I just cut them into little flowers myself. Anyway, we soft trees all have more or less the same kind of trunk. They aren’t carpenters. They can’t tell the difference.” 

Zhou Ying: “…” 

Here was an ascended spirit who’d said he was going to “go into seclusion,” but he hadn’t sealed himself into a mountain or set up an array. Instead, he was spending all his time in someone else’s courtyard, eavesdropping and cutting his own leaves…even cutting them one by one. 

He was cultivating shit! 

The two cups of snow wine Zhou Ying had just drunk evaporated right out of his eyes and ears. He was no longer dizzy or deaf. He slammed his palm down on the dog, smashing it to steam. 

The thick aroma of the snow wine instantly became so strong it was stifling. Bai Ling had been ready for this. He stuck himself outside the window, matching the nearby white paper lantern as though they were a pair of memorial couplets.

Xi Ping’s voice came from the reincarnation wood: “Tsk, otherwise I’d have to meditate and do daily lessons. What’s the difference between cutting leaves and meditating? They both refine the mind and temper the will. You’re being such a stickler, san-ge. Ah, it’s clear you don’t normally apply yourself, either.” 

Bai Ling was afraid his lord would once again uproot the miniature tree in a fit of rage. Xuanyin Mountain didn’t permit reincarnation wood to grow in Jinping. When the time came, he would once again have to go to some coffin shop in the middle of nowhere. He quickly interjected from outside the window: “So what important news did you hear in the Land of Turmoil, Viscount?” 

“Right, san-ge keeps interrupting me,” Xi Ping said. “The powerful evil cultivators are preparing to form an international alliance.” 

Zhou Ying froze. 

“Before, those three dear friends thought no one was paying attention to the Land of Turmoil, so they got excited and provoked the immortal mountains and nearly went to their graves. Now they know what they’re up against. And lately there’s been reliable information that after the business last time, the four great spiritual mountains seem to be getting ready to join hands to clean up the Land of Turmoil…” 

“Slow down,” Zhou Ying interrupted him. “Even I haven’t received word of that yet. It’s clearly an inner sect secret. How did it reach your ears over there?” 

At this point, he thought of something. His brows moved slightly. “Did it come out of the inner sect of Southern Shu’s Lingyun?” 

Xi Ping wasn’t in the least taken aback. The strange thing would have been if san-ge couldn’t guess. 

Apart from Southern He, which had been destroyed, the prevailing attitudes of the four nations towards evil cultivators were all very clear; it was only their methods that were different: Kunlun’s “severe penalty” was suppression; evil cultivators would be executed at once. Xuanyin’s “severe penalty” was considerably more refined; they would first convict the evil cultivators of all kinds of crimes of “extreme wickedness.” Because Sanyue was lax in its administration, they had coexisted with evil cultivators in the long term…but that was still only a problem of domestic affairs; in all sincerity, they didn’t view evil cultivators as human. 

It was only Southern Shu whose circumstances were a little complicated. 

Shu had two clans. One was called the Xiuyi, the other the Miah. 

The Xiuyi were experts in controlling large beasts—such as the gold-armored zheng. Shu’s imperial Li clan belonged to the Xiuyi. The Xiuyi worshipped the Lingyun Sect’s founder, the sage Tianbo. Their stature was similar to those of people from Chu and Wan, and their appearance was somewhat similar to neighboring Chu. Only they themselves could tell the difference. 

The Miah, meanwhile, were more skilled in the way of medicines and poisons, and the way of toolmaking…and they often kept small and unremarkable little beasts that nonetheless had particular uses. It was said that some Miah cultivators could also communicate with plants. The majority of them were short and slight. When occasionally some of them were tall, their frames would all be very slender, as if they hadn’t finished growing, with high cheekbones and big eyes. There were different tribes within the Miah, with such complicated bloodlines that outsiders couldn’t get the hang of them at all. They could only tell that there were some differences in their hair and eye colors. The Miah also paid tribute to the founder Tianbo-zhenren, but they only regarded him as the founder of their nation. Different tribes each had their own faiths. Flowers, plants, mountains, and rivers could all be gods that they worshipped. 

On the main peninsula, the population of Xiuyi was slightly larger, but the three islands in the South Sea were inhabited almost entirely by Miah. The Xiuyi thought of themselves as the mainstream of Shu; they believed the Miah to be uncivilized savages and discriminated against them. The Miah thought that they were the true roots of Southern Shu, and the Xiuyi were a foreign mixed breed; they were hostile towards the Xiuyi. 

In Southern Shu, the situation wasn’t that each side claimed to have reason on their side, putting them in the right; they had only one rule for handling affairs: my clan is in the right. 

But this time they really weren’t in the right—the ascended spirit evil cultivator who had come out of the South Sea was Miah. He was very mysterious. He called himself Wangge Luobao. 

The principles of heaven collided with the principles of the clan: should they aid the spiritual mountains in expelling evil and defending righteousness, or should they shield their clansman from the multitude of Xiuyi, defend the reputation of the Miah? The Miah of the Lingyun Immortal Mountains were mixed in their views. It was normal for there to be “leaks.” 

“Wangge Luobao is leading the way. In his own words, he’s ‘uniting the warriors of the mortal world who have stood up with the weight of the mountains on their backs.’ He’s sent all the great evil cultivators he could find an invitation. I have one, too—they buried it at the roots of a reincarnation wood tree in the north of Shu,” Xi Ping said. “At the beginning of the fifth month, in the South Sea hidden realm. I figure many people will go.” 

Unlike the other evil cultivators, who eked out a living under the oppression of the immortal mountains, this Wangge Luobao of Southern Shu likely had the support of Lingyun’s Miah. This person’s resources and ambitions were inestimable. While they were all ascended spirits, people like the country bumpkin ascended spirits in Demon Country couldn’t be mentioned in the same breath. 

Zhou Ying said, “What are you planning?” 

“I want to see what the South Sea hidden realm looks like and whether I can get myself something like it,” Xi Ping said. “All these great evil cultivators have hidden realms, but I don’t. Neither the Impassable Sea nor Sanyue are my territory. Every day I’m scrounging food all over the place. I’ve nearly lost face for all evil cultivators…” 

“Be reasonable.” 

“Master Lin has nearly created true spirit-conducting gold,” Xi Ping said seriously. “He’s gone over the few remaining steps hundreds upon thousands of times. He doesn’t dare to act rashly in case he attracts strange phenomena. I need a safe place. While of course Tao County is good, after all, there are many people watching there—san-ge, you can also go if you want to do anything unsuitable to be done in public. That way you won’t have to have eight hundred people watching you if you so much as use a handful of spiritual stones.” 

At first, Zhou Ying froze. Then, lowering his eyes, he said, “If you can handle your own little affairs, that’s good enough. Don’t mind me. Bai Ling, the Marquis is getting on in years, there’s no need for him to take the trouble to entertain those idlers. Ask him to come to the guest room for some rest…and move this pot of grass over there.” 

Xi Yue had tried planting reincarnation wood at the Marquis Manor. The next day, he had received a hint from Pang Jian, and in a few days, he had indeed found that the seeds wouldn’t sprout. The Marquis Manor’s gardener couldn’t make heads or tails of it. How could these trees that grew anywhere at all not be able to acclimatize themselves to Jinping? He was perplexed about it for a long time. From then on, Xi Yue had known that they couldn’t plant reincarnation wood in the Yongning Marquis Manor, and he didn’t dare to casually take the amulet out of his mustard seed. 

Only at Prince Zhuang Manor, with a possessor of a paramount spiritual sense present, would these gazes not dare to pry overmuch. Therefore, over these last several years, the naturally cold and aloof Zhou Ying, as if he’d had a change of personality, had taken to visiting his relatives. He would call at his uncle’s house during all the holidays, and he would often invite the Marquis to come pay a short visit. 

He would only visit. The “tree” in the flower pot and the amulet in Zhou Ying’s sleeve didn’t dare to speak at will… After all, mortals were transparent before immortals. 

Following orders, Bai Ling took the potted reincarnation wood to the guest room. When he returned, he saw his lord gazing emptily at the remaining snow wine in the cup, so he said softly, “I didn’t speak out of turn and let the Viscount know that the inner sect wishes you to establish a foundation, my lord.” 

“It’s fine,” said Zhou Ying. “He refuses to stay in seclusion and goes around collecting information. He must have guessed it himself.” 

He had even taken the initiative to think of a line of retreat for him. 

With an apparent trace of impatience, Zhou Ying waved a hand and pointed at the disorder on the desk. “Clean this up for me.” 

The Yongning Marquis Manor didn’t mingle with major military or political affairs, no one had ever gone short of clothing or food, and elixirs were available in whatever quantity you needed. The Marquis was still quite hale and hearty. He ate well and slept soundly. Only his left knee often ached on rainy days. 

While he was napping, Xi Ping carefully passed a narrow sliver of spiritual energy, like silk thread, through the bones of the Marquis’s knee, dispelling the cold and strengthening the bone. He thought of his mother. 

He could see the Marquis occasionally, but he rarely got to see Madam Cui. A wife living in the depths of a compound couldn’t always be going out and showing her face in public, and it wouldn’t even be appropriate for Xi Ping to have san-ge give her a package of rouge…anyway, she didn’t use rouge anymore. 

With this silent accompaniment, the Marquis of Yongning woke from his afternoon nap. He felt as if his whole body had been renewed. All his bones and muscles felt younger. 

As if he hadn’t fully woken up, he quietly sat on the little bed for a while, watching the receding sunlight out the window and thinking about something, until the page boy keeping watch outside the door knocked and asked if the Marquis required service. 

Finally the Marquis responded, straightened his clothing, washed up and drank tea, then went to see Prince Zhuang. 

Before leaving, as if carelessly, he lightly stroked the miniature tree on the little table. Where his wide sleeve passed, a small pouch embroidered with a brocade carp was left behind in the flower pot. 

Looking at the fine stitches and well-chosen colors, it was clear at a glance that this was Madam Cui’s handiwork. Inside the pouch was a wellness talisman.