Xi Ping liked going to his maternal grandfather’s house for fun. Merchants traveled widely, and he sometimes managed to come along to see the sights. He had seen how Cui Ji’s senior managers did business—it was precise and unambiguous: the amount of money, the quantity of goods, how the money was to be obtained, how the goods were to be transported…even whose responsibility it was to see that the goods got onto the ship and off the ship and how they were to be handed over—all of it had to be put down on paper, details fixed and contract signed. 

His first uncle had told him since he was little that anyone who talked big and made grandiloquent boasts but didn’t mention concrete arrangements was up to no good. 

This “Grand Duke Tai Sui” that Xi Ping was carrying around spent all day fretting on behalf of the country and the people, always saying how he was going to improve the lives of the citizens, but he didn’t say a word about the critical matters—up to this point, he had yet to say how he had come, when he was leaving, how he would leave, whether it would be harmful to his “host”; he had even brushed off giving a verbal guarantee of “I won’t hurt you.” 

Xi Ping suspected that this evil cultivator took him for a rich fool who had seen nothing of the world. 

Just now he had pretended to exert himself and flipped through several basic ancient texts in the Yanhai Building. He found that just as the evil cultivator had said, a mortal’s “spiritual sense” was muddled, something along the lines of instinct, not something that could be linked to the senses the way he could do it. 

In one text, it even said that “linking the spiritual sense” was the same thing as “opening the spiritual eyes.” 

So the question was, since he hadn’t opened his spiritual eyes, why could he link his spiritual sense? 

The Stone Drilled in Bone that the great evil cultivator had told him about had given Xi Ping some enlightenment—after a person opened his spiritual eyes, his meridians linked to the universe, like having a “road” that spiritual energy could travel; and supposing that he hadn’t opened his spiritual eyes, he could use another method to open a different “pathway” for spiritual energy to pass through and obtain some of the powers of the open-eyed period. 

From this, Xi Ping deduced that his current ability to link his spiritual sense likely came from having just such a “pathway” in his body… This could explain why, when he had entered the spiritual sense mustard seed and Tai Sui had evidently not yet awakened, he had already been able to link his spiritual sense to his ears. 

In other words, reasonably speaking, this “Grand Duke Tai Sui” who was possessing him could cycle spiritual energy. 

So…why did the evil cultivator want to rush him into opening his spiritual eyes sooner? The way he told it was truly pitiful, just as if the magnificent “Grand Duke” could only pick up a bit of spiritual energy if he opened his spiritual eyes. 

Elder Su had said that if you asked about someone else using the Determination Turtle, it would touch their spiritual sense. So Xi Ping had only asked whether his body could only be snatched after he opened his spiritual eyes. 

The immortal tool had substantiated his guess…and now Xi Ping had it pretty much figured out. 

This great evil cultivator was planning on stealing someone else’s nest for himself. 

Xi Ping didn’t lose his wits—at least, he wasn’t as panicked as when he had discovered that he had been possessed by Tai Sui. 

The pain of the bone-searing burning he had received yesterday at the gate of the Qiankun Tower seemed to have left remnants in his bones. Xi Ping’s exceptional compliance afterwards had made the great evil cultivator think that he had been forced into submission by pain; little did he know that it had instead aroused his ferocity. 

People Xi Ping liked, if they gave him a pinch or a shove, it would be fine; even if he bristled at the time, he wouldn’t take it to heart. 

But that didn’t go for others. The young master wasn’t having any of the carrot and stick routine. Anyone who dared to pick up a stick and hit him, he would plant that person in the ground. 

“Forgive me, Miss Chen,” Xi Ping thought. “I have to destroy this great evil cultivator all of you worshipped. If I manage to survive that, I’ll look after your vendetta.” 

But he couldn’t be hasty about this business. 

As if nothing were the matter, Xi Ping, testing Tai Sui, said, “Senior, I offended His Fourth Highness pretty badly today. I don’t think he’ll give up until he’s crushed me. How about you stop instructing me and simply cultivate in my place?” 

Tai Sui coolly said, “Are you commanding me?” 

Xi Ping acutely determined that he wasn’t particularly angry, so he continued on his path: “A direct bloodline member of one of the sect’s families like His Fourth Highness, he’ll have been training his spiritual sense since he was little, rushing to enter the inner sect. They have as many spiritual stones as they want, but after all these years of training, he still hasn’t opened his spiritual eyes. But your followers…disciples…or underlings, eh, whatever they are, each one of them seems so poor they rattle, but they’re so mighty. Senior, you must have secret books, right?” 

“There’s no such thing as secret books in cultivation. Each person has his natural affinity,” Tai Sui said. “Don’t spend so much time reading stories about roaming cultivators.” 

“Well, you’ve opened your spiritual eyes, so you know how it works. Wouldn’t you do it faster than me groping around blindly on my own? Senior, didn’t you say that I can only benefit you if I open my spiritual eyes?” 

Tai Sui saw that after only a day of “exertion,” Xi Ping was ready to pack it in and turn to crooked and evil means to goof off. Then he remembered those roaming cultivators who would sell out their best friends and fall out with their families for the sake of the position of “disciple of record”; he was finding this brat increasingly offensive to the eye. He said impatiently, “Your spiritual eyes are part of your spirit and are linked to your body and mind. How could another cultivate in your place?” 

Xi Ping gave a disappointed “ah,” but he was thinking: No wonder. 

No wonder that this evil cultivator could control even his heartbeat and breathing but couldn’t simply snatch away his body and even had to expend so much effort on disciplining him. 

In other words, supposing he lost his wits, went mad, or died, no matter how perfect a condition his body was in, the evil cultivator could only be a parasite on it and wouldn’t have a hope of snatching it. 

And before that, he had no way to invade his spirit to observe his thoughts and feelings; he would only know what Xi Ping was willing to share. 

Back at the Qiu courtyard, Xi Ping saw at once that the white jade proximal was lit up. He had a letter from home. 

Xi Ping had something on his mind, so he didn’t read carefully, only glanced at it absent-mindedly. 

In just one glance, he saw that there was a character written wrong—the character “衣,” clothing, was missing a dot stroke. 

The old lady had poor vision and had never studied. There was nothing unusual about her writing characters wrong. But she was always telling him to put on more clothes and eat more food. It wasn’t very likely that she would get this character wrong… Among the people Xi Ping knew, only one would write the character “衣” missing a dot stroke: his san-ge Prince Zhuang. The Imperial Consort’s given name contained this character, so he held it as a taboo out of respect for his mother. 

Reading the note again, apart from the exhortations, there were also a few lines at the end. The general sense was “your old grandmother is senile and often forgets what she said the day before, so don’t mind if she rattles on.” At a glance, there was nothing wrong with this. All old people liked to repeat themselves. But their old lady didn’t know that she had this bad habit, because even if she had told the same story more than ten times over, the whole family by tacit agreement would pretend that they were hearing it for the first time. 

The more Xi Ping looked at it, the more convinced he was that Prince Zhuang had written this letter. 

San-ge had given him the proximals, so it was likely they weren’t a pair but a set of three. San-ge had kept one for himself and could keep up with the letters he exchanged with the old lady, and could also contact him himself. Given Xi Ping’s understanding of him, if he wrote a response now, his grandmother probably wouldn’t read it. 

Copying their grandmother’s handwriting was child’s play for Prince Zhuang. Going out of his way to add the note at the end must have been because he was worried the old lady would write another letter soon, and he was providing for that eventuality. 

Xi Ping’s thoughts worked quickly. He knew that his san-ge had picked up that something was wrong from him naming the half-puppet “Xi Yue.” 

His heartbeat quickened involuntarily. Then, afraid that Tai Sui would notice, he jumped up noisily and, flustered, called out to Xi Yue standing by in attendance: “You! In the future, don’t spy on my proximal without permission, you hear me?” 

His yell startled the half-puppet. Then he looked at him in doubt and incomprehension: this fickle master seemed to have forgotten that he couldn’t read. 

“Get out, get out. Honestly, the old lady…” Xi Ping waved a hand at the half-puppet, anxiously groping around for a brush while he quickly considered: What should he write? How could he tell his san-ge that he had been possessed? 

But the moment he prepared to write, Xi Ping suddenly gave a start: No, wait, if san-ge had something to say, why didn’t he say it directly? 

Why would he copy their grandmother’s handwriting, use such a secretive means of contacting him? 

He remembered that with the gold turtle in the Yanhai Building, Elder Su had said that if you used that downgraded immortal tool to ask about someone else, it might seize on that person’s spiritual sense. 

In other words, downgraded spiritual tools weren’t safe and confidential. 

In a flash, Xi Ping restrained the notion of getting up to any little tricks. 

He focused, acting as if he hadn’t noticed that the letter was written by someone else, only babbled on as usual, acting cute for his grandmother, and as usual telling her about the strange people and odd events around him… Today it was mostly “strange people.” First he earnestly drew a horrifying-looking Xi Yue, then a Luo Qingshi next to him—rather lifelike he was, only half as tall as the half-puppet. 

After writing his shocking letter, Xi Ping picked up the karma beast carved from reincarnation wood as if nothing were the matter. “Senior, how do I use this?” 

But Tai Sui was silent a moment. He said, “I think that in the future you had better not write malicious remarks about your shixiong.” 

“Huh?” said Xi Ping. 

“The white jade proximal is a downgraded immortal tool,” Tai Sui said. “The reason no one likes making downgraded immortal tools is that these expensive pieces of trash are full of holes. Even an open-eyed half-immortal only has to use a bit of artifice to be able to spy on them as he likes. How easy is it for an established foundation cultivator? You drawing a caricature of Luo Qingshi on the proximal just now was no different from insulting him to his face.” 

“…it wasn’t a caricature,” said Xi Ping. 

Tai Sui ignored him. 

“No, wait,” Xi Ping, suddenly “seeing the light,” said indignantly, “senior, why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“People always need to be taught a lesson a few times before they’ll remember,” Tai Sui said coolly. “The immortal sect isn’t your mortal world. The great Way has three thousand paths. You can’t imagine the tricks and weapons others have. My first lesson for you is to be discreet in word and deed.” 

Xi Ping didn’t answer. His expression was clearly unconvinced. 

Tai Sui had looked on as he condemned himself and had deliberately not warned him because he had realized that the proximal communicating with Xi Ping this time wasn’t the same one as usual, so he had become suspicious. 

But from how it appeared now, he thought he was being overanxious: this stupid young master had no idea what was going on. And the person on the other end had seen him ridiculing Luo Qingshi and hadn’t warned him. It seemed they also weren’t too familiar with the fact that you couldn’t write about your elders and betters on a downgraded immortal tool. Probably this was also a mortal unfamiliar with the rules of the immortal sect…perhaps a father or brother who didn’t feel comfortable expressing his concern. 

Xi Ping used his inner qualities to play the part of the wronged young master with no one to complain to—in fact, he had used Luo Qingshi to test the great evil cultivator, and to secretly pass on a message to his san-ge, but he really hadn’t deliberately drawn a “caricature” to insult anyone. 

How could he deliberately insult him when he knew perfectly well he would be looking? Was he looking for a fight? He had obviously drawn an earnest portrait! 

The more he considered it, the more he thought that the great evil cultivator didn’t appreciate his talent. He toyed indignantly with the reincarnation wood carving. 

Suddenly, he felt a faint chill in his fingers squeezing the wood carving. Countless voices exploded in Xi Ping’s ears. He gave a start and tried to withdraw his hand…but failed. 

Tai Sui was controlling his hand, firmly holding the wood carving with it. 

“Calm yourself,” Tai Sui said. “Focus. Didn’t you learn how to meditate?” 

Xi Ping struggled to ignore the noises in his ears. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the center of his brow. Various images flashed before his eyes. In an instant, Xi Ping met countless clouded or dim eyes briefly. Finally, he stopped on the slightly light-colored round eyes of a teenage girl. 

He’d found A-Xiang. 

A-Xiang passed Chunying a pot of water—Chunying had just cursed for half an incense stick without taking a breath, rooting out eighteen successive generations of the ill-intentioned Uncle Salted Fish’s ancestors to sully each one in turn. The old gambler was hiding in a corner of the room, playing dead, not daring to make a sound. 

But after letting loose such an unbridled stream of curses, neither of them felt any relief. 

Chunying had taken the girl to run around for a whole day. Her social network was unbelievably wide. It seemed that she could claim a connection to everyone in the southern outskirts. But despite this, they had still come up empty. They had only found out that this matter was being personally supervised by the Capital Overseer. All those who had been arrested were already in prison. 

Chunying had also gone to find a foreman surnamed Lü at the southern outskirts docks. He was always boasting that he had a brother-in-law in the city guard. This individual was known for his lechery. Seeing Chunying, his squinting eyes travelled up and down three times, looking her over. But when he heard her ask whether he could find someone to clear the way for them, he sprayed spit: “What are you talking about? With something so big happening in the factories, even senior managers will be punished. Don’t go getting yourself into that trouble, woman!” 

Seeing it would be dark soon, Chunying bought A-Xiang a bowl of noodles. She didn’t eat herself, only sat next to her frowning and fretting. 

Chunying seemed to be very familiar with everything about A-Xiang and her grandfather. She could casually mention her grandfather’s name and his nickname back home. She knew where the two of them lived. But A-Xiang had already been in Jinping for half a year, and she hadn’t known that her grandfather knew this person. So she couldn’t resist asking, “Auntie Chun, how do you know my grandfather?” 

“None of your business,” Chunying said crossly. “Eat your dinner.” 

When she was pretty much done eating, Chunying added, “Leave when you’re finished. You don’t have to worry about your grandpa’s business anymore. Go home and change out of those clothes. Since your grandpa raised you as a boy, you can keep being a boy—anyway, there’s no way to tell your sex from your ugly looks.” 

A-Xiang didn’t answer, not wanting to annoy her. She was grateful to this woman she had met by chance and didn’t want to have any unkind thoughts towards Chunying, but this Auntie Chun was truly unreasonable. It would take the forbearance of a Buddha to remain good-humored while listening to her dog’s mouth. 

After she finished speaking, Chunying gave the noodle stand owner a line of coins, then remembered something. She turned and tossed a little silver bead in front of A-Xiang, then left without a word. 

Long ago…she didn’t remember precisely how many years, when she wasn’t even as old as that little girl A-Xiang, her parents had died, and she had run from hunger, ending up in Ling County. That year, rarely seen heavy snow fell in the south, freezing heaven and earth. In order to survive, her older brother sold her for two liang of silver to be an old landowner’s concubine. 

The second young master of the old landowner’s family was a scholar… He wasn’t very clever. After toiling away at his studies for most of twenty years, he had no achievements to show for it. But he was sensitive. Encountering this business, the silly young master felt that his old father was behaving atrociously. So he gave his servant two liang of silver and an order to go “buy” her, and had her do a winter’s worth of odd jobs to pay off her debt. 

When spring began, the silly young master gave her back her indenture and said to her, “The old man will be dead soon, and my big brother likely won’t put up with me, so I won’t keep you. You’re quick-witted and a good worker. You can go to Ning’an or Jinping, work as a servant for a big family, and over time earn a respectable position for yourself. The maidservants of wealthy families are better off than the young mistresses here in the countryside.” 

The second young master’s full name was Wei Pengcheng. He couldn’t memorize a single eight-line poem in a couple of months. The locals all called him Second Idiot Wei. The Second Idiot was clueless, but he had a pair of willow leaf eyes, with conspicuous red birthmarks on his brow and at the corner of his eye, very charming, and he had given Chunying the most comfortable winter of her life. 

After many years, when he had asked her for directions in Jinping’s southern outskirts with those dim old eyes, she had recognized those two red birthmarks at once…but she hadn’t had the face to reminisce about the old days. 

What bullshit were you spouting, Second Idiot Wei? How could it be so easy to earn a respectable position? Wasn’t the young master himself living in destitute misery in his old age?! 

Chunying sent A-Xiang away, fixed her clothes, and went to knock on Foreman Lü’s door again—to make it convenient to get to work, the foremen usually lived beside the canal and only went home once in half a month. They usually had a small courtyard, much better off than the laborers who slept in big multi-person beds. 

Lü opened his door and saw her, and an evil light flashed in his eyes. “What is it, Chunying-jiejie, didn’t you say you wouldn’t have my business no matter how much money I paid?” 

Chunying didn’t answer, only smoothed her temples, smiling. 

Foreman Lü remembered something. “I can’t do what you asked me for this afternoon.” 

Chunying slowly stepped forward and blew a breath towards his face. “Really?” 

“Really, I…” 

Chunying put a hand to his lips. “What if I let you…flog my face?” 

Foreman Lü’s eyes glimmered for a long moment. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, then moved aside to let Chunying in. 

Creak. The wooden door shut out the waves of the canal. 

In the street, A-Xiang curled up in a shady corner, gritting her teeth, nails almost digging into the reincarnation wood amulet around her neck. 

Xi Ping suddenly opened his eyes, throwing off the lightless mortal world. “Senior, do you have a way to help? If you don’t, then let go of my hand. I’ll write a letter to tell my grandmother to explain to my dad…” 

“Oh, and have you determined how you’ll explain it to your honored father?” said Tai Sui. 

Xi Ping’s mind worked extremely fast. “I’ll just say I accidentally touched some immortal tool in the Latent Cultivation Temple and saw something. My dad is mortal, he doesn’t understand anything about immortal tools. If I just make one up, he won’t know whether it’s real or fake.” 

Tai Sui thought: That must be the owner of the other white jade proximal. 

“Don’t worry, senior, I’ve been making up lies to fool my dad since I was little, and I’ve never been seen through. Let me go, those two, they’re…” 

“Shh.” Tai Sui sealed his mouth and forced him to close his eyes. “Don’t talk. Wait.” 

Xi Ping couldn’t speak with his mouth, but inwardly he kept calling “senior.” 

“What are we waiting for? Didn’t you say she was your follower? Senior! Senior! If you wait, both the grown-up lady and the little lady will be done for!” 

Tai Sui ignored him. 

On the other end of the reincarnation wood, A-Xiang once again began desperately entreating the god. 

Thirty steps away from her, a man’s roars mixed with filthy language, the crack of a whip, and now and then some screams that couldn’t be held back came from the crack in a door. 

All the gods and demons in the heavens looked calmly and benevolently upon her and didn’t respond, listening to her hopeless vows. 

She seemed to hear an auditory hallucination: Your life while living, your body after death, what you have grown to this day, your future spirit and primordial being, will you give them all to me? 

“I’ll give you everything,” she thought. “I’ll give you anything, just help me…” 

But when she raised her head, she found that there was no one around her. 

A-Xiang, pushed beyond her endurance, finally picked up a brick and smashed it against Foreman Lü’s door…

There was blood in the chaotic night, blood that smeared on the reincarnation wood amulet, imprinting the girl’s vow of “I’ll give you anything” on it. 

As soon as the blood seeped into the reincarnation wood, Xi Ping felt a faint warmth from the wood carving. At the same time, a line of writing appeared on the amulet on A-Xiang’s chest. 

The conflagration burns on, the cry of the cicada is without end.

The image in Xi Ping’s mind crumbled. A-Xiang was gone. He was looking into a man’s eyes. 

This man was tall and broad, wearing the armor of the city guard. Before Xi Ping could react, ecstasy flashed over the man’s face. He whispered towards him: “Tai Sui!” 

“A man was recently arrested in the southern outskirts factory district, named Wei Pengcheng,” Tai Sui instructed briefly. “He’s one of ours.” 

The man said excitedly, “I understand! The conflagration burns on, the cry of the cicada is without end.” 

Next, the city guard soldier was also gone. Xi Ping now met the eyes of an old man with cataracts.

Tai Sui said, “Lü Zhen of the canal docks has insulted my follower. Kill him.” 

Cold killing intent crashed against Xi Ping’s ears, startling him. 

The next moment, Tai Sui let him go. The wood carving fell out of Xi Ping’s hand. All the sounds and images vanished. In the quiet Qiu courtyard, there was only the sound of the wood carving rolling over the floor. 

Xi Ping’s fingers trembled slightly. 

He had originally thought that he could get hold of some reincarnation wood, perhaps use helping that little girl get her grandfather out of jail as an opportunity to pass on some information…

“Senior,” he quietly asked at last, after some time, “if you’re so powerful, why didn’t you act sooner?” 

“Miracles must come only when you’ve reached the end of the road and will give away all you have,” the evil cultivator said slowly. “If they were easy to come by, wouldn’t that be very unfair?”