Pang Jian watched the new provisional disciples board the carriages with a smile—the fourth prince, the ninth princess, Royal Prince Cixi's eldest son… along with a few more distant imperial kinsmen; altogether, out of thirty-one provisional disciples, those surnamed Zhou filled six places. Of Xuanyin’s other great families, only one member of the Lins’ main bloodline had been selected, and a barely related offshoot of the Zhaos had made it in. The remainder were all… rather unexpected candidates.

Had the noble scions in this class been unusually immoral to get themselves struck off the list at the outset, or had Zhi-shishu done it on purpose?

It was hard to say. 

A blue-rober whispered in his ear: “Commander, which ones do you think have the potential to enter the inner sect?” 

“Who are you asking? A country bumpkin like me couldn’t even find the door to the inner sect,” Pang Jian answered indifferently. “Anyway, if it’s not one of the Zhous, then it’ll be the Lin.” 

The blue-rober said, “Then the rest will be our future colleagues.” 

“Drop it.” Pang Jian languidly kept pace. “The Latent Cultivation Temple isn’t some kind of guaranteed path like a sewer, where you can open your spiritual eye just by entering. Every year there are quite a few who manage nothing but eating enough to gain ten jin.” 

Xi Ping, placed at the end of the line of carriages, heard this and looked up. This brat’s ears were amazing; across several lengths, he could still hear others whispering. He must have spent a lot of time eavesdropping. Xi Ping filtered out the other information and determined that the meals at the Latent Cultivation Temple were good. He was quite pleased and waved familiarly at Pang Jian. 

Disbelief appeared at once on Pang Jian’s face. He couldn’t resist asking his colleague, “Do I seem like a friendly and approachable person?” 

His subordinate misunderstood him and smoothly produced some flattery: “Naturally, commander, you’ve always been good-natured and amiable.” 

“Go to the medical hall later and get some pills for your eye disease,” Pang Jian said expressionlessly. 

Just then, Zhao Yu came over in a hurry. 

Ever since a member of the Zhao family’s main bloodline had been the first to be struck off the roster by General Zhi, they had all been dejected, including Zhao Yu. He had been somewhat more subdued than usual lately. Without making eye contact with anyone, he came up to Pang Jian and whispered, “Commander, the person standing guard was inattentive to his task. I just received a report that that earworm half-puppet has run away…”

“Let him run.” Pang Jian didn’t take it seriously. An ignorant little half-puppet was less dangerous than a stray dog, and given his condition, he must have come pretty cheap; this didn’t amount to a financial loss.

“Well…” Zhao Yu hesitated, then quietly said, “After all, it’s a thing that Zhi-shishu asked after specifically.” 

“What would shishu want him for? He just couldn’t stand to see the little thing starve to death. You…” Because of the Grand Selection, Pang Jian had been busy with unnecessary rigmarole for several days. Now he was somewhat enervated and nearly spoke his unvarnished thoughts aloud.

He nearly blurted out, You’d be better off disciplining your family’s youth rather instead of opining on trifles like this, just barely restraining himself.

“You… don’t need to worry about him. A half-puppet that lives off of spiritual stones won’t get far in the mortal world. It may be that one of these young masters or young mistresses has brought along some treat and lured him off.” Pang Jian forced himself to say something more tactful and patted Zhao Yu on the shoulder in a show of decency. “I’m going to take the little whelps to school. I’ll start back as soon as I get there. For the next couple of days, you and the others will be responsible for Jinping.” 

Then he pursed his lips and whistled. A sword floated up at his feet. 

When Pang Jian flew up riding his sword, all the white horses drawing the carriages let out long whinnies in unison and began to move, sprinting along Zhengyang Street, which had been cleared of traffic.

Xi Ping stuck his head out the window and saw that the little alleys tucked away on either side of the empty street were full of people watching the fun. Quite a few commoners, seeing a blue-robed half-immortal flying on a sword, bowed excitedly by the roadside as though witnessing the arrival of a god

Commander Pang, naturally, was used to this sight. Sleeves fluttering in the wind, he kept his gaze fixed forward. 

For a moment, envy arose even in the useless young master’s heart. 

He couldn’t resist thinking, In another year, will I also be able to wear the blue robe and ride the wind?

Just then, the fleet of carriages passed by the Heyin Building—the Heyin Building was the property of an imperially accredited merchant, the tallest restaurant in all of Jinping City, which stood at the western city gate; people came there to see off travelers. 

The window of a private room was half-open, and a familiar face flashed by. It seemed to be Prince Zhuang. 

But before Xi Ping could get a clear look, the fleet suddenly accelerated and left by the western gate like the wind. 

Xi Ping wasn’t holding on. His back bumped against the body of the carriage, and a powerful air current surged in through the window. The inscriptions on the window flashed and automatically sealed it. His ears buzzed, and he was pressed down into the carriage seat. 

After a while, the pressure finally decreased a little. As soon as Xi Ping sat up, he heard Commander Pang say loudly, with a laugh, “Everyone hold on and sit tight. Better not open the windows and look down.” 

His words were too effective. No sooner had he spoken than nearly all the carriage windows opened, heads sticking out of them in unison. 

Xi Ping was choked by the fierce countryside wind mixed with smoke and dust and couldn’t quite catch his breath. He narrowed his eyes into slits, then found to his astonishment that the ground of Jinping was already far away from them. The houses, roads, tall buildings, and watercourses were all constantly shrinking… They were flying in the sky! 

The eyes of the young man closest to him rolled up into his head. He fell straight back into the carriage in a faint. 

Pang Jian, satisfied, veered aside on his sword and casually flew over to the carriage to seal the window for the young man who had fainted. “Tsk, scared of heights and can’t follow directions.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xi Ping’s head being pushed out of shape by the wind. Commander Pang’s gaze suddenly sharpened as he noticed something. He murmured, “So that’s where you’ve run off to.” 

“Huh? What did you say?” With the howling wind pouring into his ears, Xi Ping was thinking that flying through emptiness wasn’t a delightful experience at all. He shouted, “Exalted, aren’t you worried about your skin getting as chapped as a radish?” 

Before Pang Jian could answer, Xi Ping felt something touch his foot. He looked down and saw the hem of a pink garment peeking out from under the seat. 

A ghost in broad daylight! 

Xi Ping jumped, caught unawares. “Hey!” 

The owner of the pink hem quickly curled inward. Xi Ping stepped on the hem and pulled the “ghost” right out. 

There was a crash, and the whole box of blue jade spiritual stones emptied over the whole carriage. He had pulled a small child out from under the seat.

The child had a blue jade clutched in each of his little paws, and his lips were pressed together unnaturally.

Xi Ping: “…” 

Had he accidentally taken someone else’s luggage and brought along someone’s kid? And why did this little thing look familiar? 

Just then, a gust of wind came through the window and hit the small child in the chest. The child gave a cry and spat out two blue jades, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth. 

“It’s you!” The familiar “bed of nails” teeth jogged Xi Ping’s memory. This child was the “little slave” that belonged to the skinless evil cultivator at the Blissful Village! 

“Ho, rich man.” At some point Pang Jian had come through the wall into his carriage. When he saw the blue jade pearls rolling over the floor like pebbles, his expression cooled almost imperceptibly.

As soon as the earworm half-puppet saw him, he was immediately too scared to move. 

Pang Jian waved a hand. The scattered spiritual stones rolled back into the wooden box on their own and arranged themselves. He picked up the box and weighed it. He knew there had to be at least a hundred liang. Each and every one of the spiritual stone beads in the box was sparkling and clear, without a single blemish. All were first-class blue jade. 

This box of beads might be described as astronomically expensive.

“Quite a healthy patrimony.” Pang Jian raised his eyelids and examined Xi Ping, his smile turning cold. “Is the Marquis of Yongning’s salary so high?” 

“Don’t mention it. The Marquis’s little income isn’t even as much as we bring in managing the bit of land left by our forebears in the south suburbs.” Xi Ping seemed not to have heard the barb in Pang Jian’s words. He smoothly closed the whistling window and said with perfect ease, “Hey, sit down, Exalted. Would you like some pastries? I brought them from home. They’re still warm.” 

Pang Jian’s expression warmed slightly. He politely turned down his kind offer. “I see, your family has your ancestors' blessings.” 

No one had farmed the earth in the south suburbs for a long time. After Moon Plated Gold had come to the mortal world, all kinds of steam engine factories had grown up like bamboo shooting up after a spring rain shower, especially in the south suburbs, which contained the canal docks. If you had a bit of land there, you could get rich on the rents alone. No wonder they were so liberal.

Pang Jian closed the box of spiritual stones and put it aside. “How much land does your family have? Can it stand up to this kind of expense?” 

Xi Ping counted on his fingers. “Two or three hundred mu, I think. Who knows, I’m not sure of the exact number. The rents are trifling, anyway. Our Marquis gets by primarily on the strength of his looks.”

“Oh?”

“Have you ever heard of Cui Ji, Exalted?” said Xi Ping. 

Pang Jian had heard of Cui Ji. 

Cui Ji was the area’s largest jeweler and occupied a huge compound of stillness amid the noise in the most prosperous part of Jinping City. If a wealthy matriarch or young mistress went out without a couple of pieces by Cui Ji on her, she would be too embarrassed to meet anyone.

When the name of a business was famous enough, even those who didn’t shop there would hear of it—for example, even a child knew about the Zhuangyuan Hong wine at the Heyin Building, even monks had heard of the osmanthus duck at the Phoenix’s Perch Pavilion, and even a man like Commander Pang could recognize Cui Ji’s little carp imprint, which had cut through the purse of every wealthy lady in Jinping. 

Xi Ping picked and chose among the box of pastries. “My mom’s surname is Cui. Cui Ji is my grandfather’s business, and my mom owns thirty percent of the shares.” 

This was a long story: when Madam Cui had been a young mistress, she had gone with a friend for a trip in the countryside. On the way, their carriage had broken down. The Marquis happened to run into them and kindly lend a hand. Young Mistress Cui was easily swayed by beauty. One look, and she was bewitched by his charms. 

The Marquis hadn’t been a Marquis at the time, only an idle and pampered young man. Though in the eyes of Boss Cui, the Xi family amounted to paupers, in the eyes of the world, a petty bureaucrat was still a government official, and his status was higher than a merchant’s. The Xi family had only this one son; he couldn’t marry into his bride’s family. 

Anyway, they weren’t a good match. 

But the young mistress didn’t care. She insisted on marrying him, and no one could talk her out of it. Boss Cui was furious. Go ahead and marry him, he said, and when you’ve married your boy toy, you can forget about your father. So the young mistress had strictly obeyed her father’s wishes: she had cut all ties with the Cui family, turned her head away, and gotten married, taking not one single thread with her.

But times change—later, the Xi family’s young lady entered the palace and became a success. The onetime unreliable boy toy, thanks to the favor shown to his sister, somehow managed to become the Marquis of Yongning, and the mixed up Young Mistress Cui became the lady of the Marquis Manor.

How could you reject relatives from a noble family? So Boss Cui and Madam Cui’s father-daughter relationship had naturally been renewed. 

The boss carried on in impressive style. The Yongning Marquis Manor, and even the Imperial Consort in the palace, were all amply provided for, to the great satisfaction of all. 

Xi Ping gave a rough account of the Marquis’s history of acquiring riches and commented, “Actually, I feel like it’s more like my mom and my aunt tied the knot, and my dad was just thrown in as a bonus.” 

Pang Jian: “…” 

He didn’t know what comment to make about all this. Anyway, he was a little envious. 

Xi Ping stuffed a preserved egg dumpling into his mouth and narrowed his eyes provocatively at Pang Jian. He gave a half-mocking laugh. “Exalted, what are you thinking? A family of nobodies like us relies entirely of imperial grace. There are eight hundred pairs of eyes at the imperial censorate watching us twelve shichen a day. Demerits come easy. When there’s something we can’t touch, we won’t even dare to bend down to pick up a dropped copper coin. Do you think it’s so easy being a sycophantic courtier?” 

Pang Jian was dazed by his defiance. 

Everyone who saw a walker in the mortal acted like they had seen a god, and even the nobility was polite, never mind that Pang Jian was famously hard to get along with. Since he had come into power at Heaven’s Design Pavilion, no one had given him any attitude. The feeling was novel. Commander Pang actually didn’t get angry right away. He asked curiously, “Kid, do you know that even if you come back from the Latent Cultivation Temple, you’ll be running errands for me?” 

“Not necessarily,” said Xi Ping. “If I manage nothing but eating enough to gain ten jin, I’ll probably have to go to the imperial guards’ young masters’ training camp to run errands there.”

For once Pang Jian was speechless. He then he laughed in spite of himself. He remembered this whelp’s conduct at the Blissful Village; indeed, he was a magic beast that feared neither heaven nor earth. 

Pang Jian reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small piece of gold leaf, which he gave to Xi Ping. “I misspoke. I’ll give this to you as an apology.”

“Thank you, Exalted.” Xi Ping had always readily accepted gifts. He would take anything that anyone dared to give him. He had never put on a polite show of refusal. “What is it?” 

“A dragon-taming chain. It answers to a drop of blood from its owner. It’s used for taming beasts.” Pang Jian indicated the half-puppet next to them with his chin. “This little thing eats spiritual stones, like eating gold without shitting it out. An ordinary person couldn’t support him, but since you have the money, he’s yours.” 

“Huh?” Xi Ping was startled. Then his voice rose an octave in pitch. “No way, didn’t this thing belong to a haunt? And it bites! What would I want it for? To use it as a curse to kill my enemies?!” 

The little half-puppet also appeared alarmed. 

“If there could hav been a curse on the half-puppet, Heaven’s Design Pavilion would have taken care of it by now. No need for you to get involved. If you put the dragon-taming chain on him, he won’t be able to bite you anymore. He’ll do whatever you want him to.” Pang Jian leaned back. His body “melted” into the carriage wall, leaving only his features showing. He said, “Otherwise, there’ll be no one to wait on you at the Latent Cultivation Pavilion, young master. You’ll have to make your own bed.” 

Xi Ping had wanted to refuse decisively. His mouth was already open. But when he heard these last sentences, he hesitated. 

“Fine.” Pang Jian’s hand reached out from beneath his features. “If you don’t want him, give that back to me.” 

Xi Ping quickly squeezed the piece of gold leaf. Totally shameless, he saluted and said, “I don’t dare to refuse a gift from an elder. It would be impolite. Thank you, Exalted.” 

The little bastard. 

Pang Jian remotely tapped him twice, then left through the wall. 

As soon as he left, the little half-puppet’s face turned fierce, and he threw himself at Xi Ping, trying to snatch away the dragon-taming chain. But just as Commander Pang had said, the half-puppet might look strange, but in fact he had no more magic powers than an ordinary child. At any rate, Xi Ping could easily control him with one hand. 

In desperation, the half-puppet opened his mouth and bit Xi Ping’s hand. 

That mouthful of teeth like a bed of nails was truly sharp. Blood immediately began to seep out of Xi Ping’s hand. Droplets of blood rubbed off on the gold leaf. The dragon-taming chain immediately grew. A pop, and it trembled in midair, separating man and puppet. Then it curled around the half-puppet’s neck and turned into a neckband.

The little monster was immediately controlled. He backed up a few steps like a puppet on strings. 

Xi Ping meanwhile had a strange feeling—the neckband… no, the little monster held by the neckband seemed to become a part of his body, like a cat’s tail: when you weren’t paying attention to it, it would move on its own; when you wanted to pay attention to it, you could control it at will. 

Xi Ping tried giving an order: “Take two steps to the left?” 

The little monster’s expression was conflicted and unwilling, but his feet obediently took two steps to the left.

“To the right.” 

The little monster was as obedient as Xi Ping’s own legs. 

“Hah.” Xi Ping was amused. Commander Pang had given him something nice. “Now you’ll behave? Bow to me.” 

“Do a handstand.” 

“Now dance.” 

The little monster was tormented into dizziness. Hatred appeared in his black bean eyes; he glared ferociously at Xi Ping. 

Xi Ping had never been afraid of being glared at. He would get more and more worked up the angrier someone was. Licking his canine tooth, he played a dirty trick: “Stop, no more shimmying—come on, let me hear you say ‘dad.’” 

But this time, he didn’t have his way. The little monster opened his mouth, but only a brief exhalation came out, like a faulty tinderbox. 

Xi Ping took a close look and saw that the little thing only had a short stub of tongue, curled up behind several rows of teeth. His throat and soft palate were also deformed. 

It seemed that… he couldn’t speak. 

The little monster, controlled by the dragon-taming chain, was unable to fulfill his master’s orders and had to go on making breathy sounds, weird and pitiful. 

Xi Ping suddenly felt a little unwell. The stub of tongue had put him in mind of the dogs at the palace—there had to be solemn silence in the imperial city, and dogs weren’t allowed to bark, so all the dogs in the palace had to have a section of their throat cut out. Imperial Consort Xi had originally had a dog that had been friendly with Prince Zhuang since he was little. When Prince Zhuang set up his own household, he took it away from Guangyun Palace. 

Every time that old dog tried to play with other dogs, it could only make breathy sounds like this. Slowly, it had lost interest in playing, and in a few months it quietly died. 

On account of this, Prince Zhuang had suffered a major illness and nearly died himself. 

“Enough, stop.” Xi Ping stuck his head out the window. The wind blew so hard he couldn’t open his eyes, and he couldn’t clearly see where Pang Jian was. He could only yelled into the wind. “Exalted, what was that haunt's problem? Why didn’t he either not give it a mouth or give it a normal tongue? What’s going on with this half-tongue? Can you fix this thing?” 

He had hardly finished speaking when something came flying at him and nearly hit him in the face. 

Xi Ping caught it with both hands and saw that it was half of an old thread-bound manuscript. It was almost falling apart and had a sour smell. 

He cried out in disgust, closed the window, and distastefully pinched the yellowing pages between his fingertips.

On the first page of the old manuscript were drawn several deformed babies. Underneath them was written: Ten methods of creating a half-puppet. 

“What the hell…” 

Xi Ping flipped through it, scanning quickly. But as he read, his tightly knitted brows sank, and his eyes opened wide in astonishment. 

When he had read another ten pages or so, he shut the old manuscript without a word. His gaze fell on the half-puppet. 

For some reason, the half-puppet that had originally been so angry his face was all but contorted stared at him briefly, then slowly calmed down. 

Perhaps because… Xi Ping was looking at him the way you look at a person. 

Xi Ping murmured, “So you aren’t a puppet wrapped in human skin. You used to be human?” 

The half-puppet was a little bewildered by his question. He stared back helplessly at Xi Ping for a moment, not knowing how he ought to respond. He could only hesitantly bare his mouthful of fierce teeth. 

Xi Ping considered, then bent down and picked up the box full of spiritual stones. He took one out and gave it to him. “Right, you want to eat this?” 

As soon as he saw the spiritual stone, the little half-puppet forgot everything. He threw himself forward, snatched it out of Xi Ping’s hand, and gobbled it up. 

Xi Ping wanted to say something else, but just then, a long crane’s call passed through the skies. The carriage shook, and he had a sudden sensation of becoming a hundred jin lighter. 

He was shaken: they had arrived at the Latent Cultivation Temple! 

Xi Ping had no more attention to spare for anything else. He stuffed the box of spiritual stones into his luggage and impatiently stuck his head out to admire the immortal mountains… not noticing how closely the half-puppet watched the box of spiritual stones, nor the greedy look in his black bean eyes.