Morning in Seventeen Li Town opened with the strains of a huqin¹ floating out from the attic of the All Comers Inn. 

The All Comers Inn had once been called the Treasure Trove Inn. Some years ago, hearing that a Cloud Soaring Flood Dragon station would be built, the name had been changed to “All Comers,” planning to happily welcome “guests coming from all over.” The upshot was that the station hadn’t been completed, and the guests coming from all over had gotten lost somewhere along the way. This poor, rundown inn naturally wasn’t worthy of picking up the celestial aura of the cultivators, so only passing minor merchants gathered there to stay a while. 

Wild Fox Country’s Great Market had passed. It was the off-season now. The All Comers Inn’s business was extremely sparse. Fortunately, a wandering musician had recently come in, and he had more stories than a theatrical troupe. 

Since that gentleman had come, the rooster in the All Comers Inn’s backyard had stopped crowing. 

Every day at the first crack of dawn, there would be a punctual creak from upstairs. That musician Mr. Cui didn’t sleep in. He punctually began another day’s yearning. 

The strings were a little damp, the sound of the instrument mournful. If he wasn’t sighing about the pains of unrequited love, he was plucking away about the loneliness of an unrecognized genius. Sometimes he was pouring out his heart, sometimes propping himself up by playing the wronged woman. Such a small matter, but he could make so much of it. 

The landlady got up every morning to the sound of his instrument to sweep and wash the courtyard, chop firewood and fetch water, direct her two waiters and one cook in their work. 

The landlady’s surname was Tao—Tao County’s three big surnames were “Tao,” “Wang,” and “Xu”; seventy percent of people belonged to those three families. Elders called her “er-sao,” and juniors called her “er-nainai².” She was a widow whose husband had died eleven years ago. She was courageous and had raised two children relying on this “dangerous business” in Wild Fox Country. The children had grown up and each gotten married, and the hair at both her temples was grey. Feeling that she had some heroic will that she hadn’t yet used up, she had continued to operate the little inn. 

Western Chu was nowhere near as prosperous as Great Wan, and it also seemed not to care as much about “etiquette and enlightenment” as they did across the river, especially in a borderland like this, where a man alone couldn’t support a whole family—the work that paid a lot of money would kill you, and the work that didn’t kill you wouldn’t bring in enough to go around. Therefore, it was normal for wives to go out in public and work; it didn’t provoke gossip the way it did in Southern Wan. 

When Tao-er-nainai got to work, it was truly a pleasing sight. Her plump arms and legs seemed to move in a dance with a particular tempo. There was nothing sloppy about it. Though her hair had gone grey, when she brandished an axe, there was no piece of firewood she couldn’t chop in three strokes. In her own little courtyard, she shouted out directions with perfect ease, like an old general who was still going strong. 

Once she began to bustle, even the sound of Mr. Cui’s maundering sped up involuntarily to her tempo, the sickly groaning turning into a horse racing song. 

Er-nainai tossed her cleaning rag over her shoulder and wiped away sweat. She yelled upstairs: “Mr. Cui, do you want to eat?” 

Mr. Cui was still bouncing his leg to the lingering tune of the horse racing song. Hearing this call, he pulled over the huqin and played her a few strains in answer. 

Sadly, er-nainai couldn’t read his meaning from his music. “Talk sense!” 

So Mr. Cui stuck out a shame-faced head. “I’ll eat whatever there is. Don’t add spice.” 

On hearing this, er-nainai raised her eyebrows, which were a length shorter than average, feeling that Mr. Cui was truly indecent. 

Though this Mr. Cui was getting on in years a little, he still looked tall and strapping, with a healthy figure. But this person shamelessly insisted that he had tuberculosis and couldn’t work. But apart from one day when he had coughed up blood, er-nainai hadn’t heard him cough at all… The blood he had coughed up had dyed an entire handkerchief red. It didn’t look real, especially since he was always getting it out and trembling a few times, the affected nature only too clear. One day er-nainai had accidentally washed it for him, and he hadn’t managed to cough up another one. 

In view of this, er-nainai had concluded that the bloody handkerchief had been a fake. Probably he had smeared chicken blood or dog blood on it. 

At first, er-nainai had thought this idle Mr. Cui was a young master from a wealthy family that had come down in the world. Later she had found that this actually wasn’t the case. 

The day before yesterday, a thunderstorm had damaged a room on the west side of the inn, and it had been Mr. Cui who had helped her repair it. After the repairs were done, this miser had demanded the exorbitant price of ten days’ room and board for it. Once he got to work, he was in fact pretty good. At first, picking up an axe or saw or something of the kind, he was a little awkward, but once he tried it out a few times, he worked nimbly. Strange to say, his hands were soft and tender, without any calluses, but he was skilled in performing these tasks, as if he had practiced them many times in his dreams. 

He could also write and do sums. He could write down any word you said. Er-nainai thought that in the whole town, you could count up the people who could reach this level on one hand. So she was very perplexed: couldn’t he do something, get married and have a career? At his age, other people were getting ready to start looking out for spouses for their children, but this Mr. Cui was still wandering all over the place, spending all day clutching a lousy huqin that cost half a string of coins and daydreaming. If his head didn’t hurt, then his ass did. 

Mr. Cui had also brazenly gone to try playing for Chu’s theatrical troupes, but they wouldn’t have him, saying that this man’s face looked like he was going to a funeral, and his playing sounded like a wolf howling at night. He didn’t seem very auspicious. If they took him out, they were afraid of getting beaten. Only when wealthy families were holding funeral processions were the officiants willing to bring him in as accompaniment. The atmosphere was ideal. Therefore, as soon as he ran out of money, he started looking out for people holding “Riding the Crane³” ceremonies. 

“Er-er-er-…” A voice that seemed to have gotten stuck came from the rear kitchen. 

The All Comers Inn’s cook was a stutterer. His brain had been damaged by a fever when he was little. His family couldn’t support him and had simply tossed him out. Er-nainai had picked him up one stormy night and called him Dayu, heavy rain, bringing him up as halfway to her own son. When he was thirteen or fourteen, she’d had him learn the old cook’s trade from him. The year before last, the old cook had caught a chill, so the young cook had taken on the job. Though he was dim-witted, he did his work well. 

Er-nainai said, “What?” 

The cook’s forehead was covered in sweat. Finally, he forced out: “The-the-the big b-boiler, it’s…” 

The big boiler in the rear kitchen had been found on the black market. It was a genuine product of Southern Wan that had failed to pass inspection in the factory. It was the most expensive thing in the whole inn. It was incredibly convenient for heating water and food, but it was always breaking. 

Er-nainai didn’t understand anything about these steam-powered things, so she called, “Mr. Cui, can you fix the boiler?” 

Mr. Cui, creaking and groaning, was mourning the passing of the autumn moon and the spring flowers. He found the time to mutter, “I haven’t eaten.” 

“You won’t get anything to eat if the boiler’s broken. If you can fix it, I’ll deduct five days’ room and board.” 

“Well!” Without another word, Mr. Cui flourished his long legs. He strode downstairs in two steps, headed “heartbroken” and “languishing” towards the idiot cook, and went to repair the boiler. 

“Er-nainai!” one of the waiters called. “Guests coming!” 

Tao-er-nainai froze, raised her head, and looked at the sky where dawn was just breaking. This early? she thought.

When she welcomed the leading guests, er-nainai understood perfectly well what was happening. She saw that while these two guests had done their best to dress unassumingly, their bearing was unconvincing—their backs were too straight; when they looked into the distance, they squinted; and sometimes they deliberately turned their heads to listen to sounds, as if their ears weren’t working very well, either. 

These two were immortals. 

She put on the smiling face of a successful businessperson and stepped forward to curtsy. She explained that the inn’s boiler was broken, so if the honored guests wished to drink tea, they would have to sit and wait for a bit. 

In the past, she wouldn’t have dared to imagine that she could speak to immortals with such dignity. 

In running a business, she’d come into contact with people from all walks of life. She didn’t get nervous in front of people. It was only immortals—especially the lords from the Qilin Guard, all with that “celestial air” about them, able to make it so you couldn’t raise your head, never mind speak clearly. 

But after that day the blurry Tai Sui had appeared to them and said “From now on, there will be no more immortals or demons in Tao County,” there had been a miracle! Like a dream, it had actually come true! All cultivators coming from outside became like mortals, even less agile than the mortals who were used to their clumsy limbs. There were no more magic battles of gods and ghosts in the streets. Even the moon during the Mid-Autumn Festival had been clearer than usual. Those returning home all said that Tao County was completely different from outside. Staying the night made you feel relaxed and alert. 

Since then, the immortals coming to inspect Tao County openly and in secret hadn’t stopped. The All Comers Inn had received several batches. These days, Tao-er-nainai could easily distinguish who was an “Exalted.” She rather welcomed these people now, first because the immortals were liberal and didn’t keep track of the money they spent, and second, now that these great personages who had previously been like the sun, not to be looked at directly, had lost their “celestial air,” Tao-er-nainai had turned eloquent. Every time she finished responding all upright and proper to an immortal, she would be inwardly pleased with herself for ages.

Just then, there was the sound of a horse-drawn carriage outside. The two honored guests inside the inn stood up nervously when they heard. 

Tao-er-nainai’s heartbeat sped up: an important person. 

She heard the sound of the door curtain, and a “pure white” man came in from outside. 

This person’s hair was white, and his clothing was white, and his skin and flesh didn’t have the tiniest bit of color, either. He was also wearing a snow-white mask on his face. 

The two cultivators inside the inn hastened forward to salute him, both calling him “grand-shishu.” 

The “white person” waved a hand and walked through the door. Loftily but without abandoning his poise, he nodded towards the dumbfounded Tao-er-nainai. The gaze that came from under the mask was like frost, coldly sweeping through the rundown little inn. 

The two cultivators who had come before stood in attendance on either side. One of them spoke, asking Tao-er-nainai, “Are you the owner?” 

“Indeed I am.” 

The cultivator flashed a token at her, then asked, “Have you seen any strangers here recently?” 

Tao-er-nainai couldn’t read whatever was written on the token. She only thought that this attitude seemed like the Qilin Guard. She answered obediently, “No, Exalted…” 

Before she could finish, there was a bang from the rear kitchen. Everyone’s gazes were immediately drawn by the noise. The big boiler once again began to puff steam. 

Then a person walked in from out back wiping his hands. 

Tao-er-nainai’s heart stuttered: right, Mr. Cui had actually only come a few days ago. 

But oddly enough, perhaps because of his friendly local accent or perhaps because he didn’t act like an outsider, Tao-er-nainai hadn’t noticed that he counted as a “stranger.” Now that she recalled it, she felt oddly alarmed. 

The next moment, Mr. Cui met the gaze under that snow-white mask head on. He didn’t dodge. Instead, he opened his eyes wide in curiosity and gave a “wow.” Next, this man who was full of indolence from head to foot suddenly became “clever,” belatedly restraining his careless air. He bowed. “Hello, Exalteds.” 

Having said this, he stepped aside and found a place to sit. He quietly said, “Er-nainai, the boiler’s working, it just needed a bit of pipe swapped out.” 

Tao-er-nainai calmed herself down and said unflappably towards the white mask: “Exalted, there is currently no Great Market. The only people staying in my inn are some traveling peddlers who come and go, all of them regular guests… What will you be having?” 

For some reason, White Mask was staring directly at Mr. Cui. Mr. Cui just happened to be taking a peek at White Mask. Caught in the act, he no longer dared to look, hastily retreating into a corner to mind his own business. 

The standing cultivator said, “This gentleman doesn’t seem like a traveling peddler who lives rough.” 

As though nothing were the matter, Tao-er-nainai said, “Oh, him. He’s an old bachelor from the countryside, a layabout with no family and no job. He usually stays at my inn doing odd jobs to cover his room and board.” 

Hearing this, Mr. Cui seemed to want to protest, but he also looked like he didn’t want to offend the landlady. He stood up and whispered, “Exalted, this humble one is a musician, I…” 

The rest of his sentence was stopped by Tao-er-nainai’s glare. 

White Mask looked him over thoroughly for another moment, then finally averted his gaze. The cultivators only ordered a pot of hot tea, but they didn’t touch a drop of it once it was brought. They put down money and left. 

As soon as these people left, the people from all walks of life in the All Comers Inn at last relaxed and began a quiet discussion. 

A coal trader staying at the inn poked Mr. Cui and asked, grinning, “A musician for ‘joyous occasions’?” 

“Bullshit, I was only helping out a friend.” Mr. Cui turned around upon hearing this and began talking big in lively fashion, all “once played the qin beside Jinping’s Lingyang River,” and “even the smoke that the steamships in Jinping puff out smells of osmanthus.” 

Tao-er-nainai could hardly listen to any more of this. She tossed him a handkerchief. “Drop it, why don’t you. Wipe the ash off your face.” 

Mr. Cui said, “Er-nainai, I got up early, give me an extra egg.” 

Er-nainai put her hands on her hips. “I think you’re the egg.” 

Mr. Cui didn’t get mad, only looked at her and smiled. This tubercular man’s features were homely, his face had a sickly pallor, his smile brought out all his wrinkles, and there was a messy little beard covering half his face. But his eyes were so passionate that it was as if he had stolen them from someone else. When he made unreasonable requests, he never winked, only looked at a person with eager directness, a layer of light floating over his eyes. Somehow, he got his way every time. 

Sometimes Tao-er-nainai thought that maybe this son of a bitch really had spent time around courtesans. She said, “Listen, don’t you want to find a wife and settle down? Do you have to marry a goddess?” 

“No, not necessarily,” Mr. Cui said unblushingly, “it just has to be someone a little prettier than me.” 

Tao-er-nainai: “…” 

If only he had a bit of shame, just a drop, what a good man he’d be. 

Behind the All Comers Inn, the masked white-haired man in the carriage listened to these completely meaningless domestic trivialities and knocked on the carriage door. The carriage began to roll towards the depths of Seventeen Li Town. Tao County was too thoroughly “broken”; even he had lost his spiritual sense. Probably only a full moon sage would be able to spot where the strangeness was coming from. 

Mr. Cui—Xi Ping—picked up his chopsticks and gently tapped on the dining table made of reincarnation wood, passing a message to the Luwu: “Sanyue’s Xuanwu has come in person.” 

While Xiang Wenqing had been trapped in Tao County, Yu Chang had taken the opportunity to escape abroad that very night. 

As expected, this first-rate common cultivator had a few tricks up his sleeves when it came to concealing his whereabouts. He hadn’t taken a single spiritual stone out of Western Chu. By the time Sanyue Mountain had received the news, it was already too late. They had quickly contacted the other three nations, and to this day, they had yet to find a trace of him. 

Yu Chang had disappeared with the Law Breaker, Yu Family Bend’s clan leader had passed away, their treasury had been blown up, and the county had turned into a mess, but they couldn’t complain of it—why would a common clan have so many spiritual stones? And where had the spiritual stones come from? That was hard to explain. There had always been countless pairs of eyes fixed on the precious land of Yu Family Bend. Now that Yu Chang had struck at their roots, the jackals and wolves all around were itching to act. 

Dongheng’s Sanyue wasn’t interested in dealing with their trifles. What the immortal mountains were worried about was Tao County. 

There was no doubt that the current situation in Tao County had been caused by the Law Breaker, but the Law Breaker’s whereabouts were unknown. All the common people in the county were clueless, going about their lives as usual. The immortal mountains certainly couldn’t disregard the lives of the common people and flatten this place—they were incapable of doing so anyway. Up to the present, at least five or six groups from the Qilin Guard and Sanyue’s inner sect had come. A shed skin had even come in person. And without exception, they had all become mortals as soon as they entered. 

Just look at Elder Xuanwu’s mask, which had turned into one with small holes. 

Xuanwu’s carriage drove onto Seventeen Li Town’s “main road.” The road had fallen into disrepair and was uneven. Whether the person sitting in the carriage was a shed skin or a god, they would be jolted like a sieve being shaken. 

Suddenly, the disciple driving the carriage clumsily pulled on the reins. 

He seemed to exchange a few words with someone. Then he handed something in through the carriage door. “Grand-shishu, have a look at this.” 

After the Snake King’s Immortal Palace had been blown up, the locals had once again started using “misty willow” to carve Tai Sui amulets. This time, the face on the amulets had changed. 

Xuanwu accepted it and saw that the wooden amulet was crudely made, but something of the features and their expression was still faintly discernible—this was Yu Chang. 

What was “Tai Sui”? 

That was hard to say. In Southern Wan, which strictly prohibited common cultivators and carried out heavy punishments against so-called “evil cultivators,” the “evil cultivators” had to band together to survive, create an “idol” to serve as their symbol. Common people would try anything in a crisis; they would incorporate these bizarre “deities” into folk legend. 

But in Western Chu, where the black market was halfway out in the open, the circumstances were a little more complex: some wildly ambitious big families who had prominence in one area, in order to make themselves look more impressive, would embellish a history for their own ancestors. The ignorant masses didn’t know better and would put their faith in these people. Tao County had no big families. The previous local despot had been an evil cultivator very skilled in currying favor with authority. Rumor said that he had been the one to bring this so-called “Tai Sui,” which was a wooden carving of unknown origin. 

Last time, when the Silver Moon had come down to the mortal world to expel evil, Qiu Sha had died, but the Silver Moon had still been angry. Though later he had turned up a length of eternal spring brocade on that Golden Hand, Xuanwu’s instincts had told him something was wrong with the divine image worshipped in the Snake King’s Immortal Palace… If he recalled correctly, misty willow had also once been a type of accompanying plant. 

But misty willow was everywhere around the Xia River. The poor all used it to carve their memorial tablets. And that hadn’t been the only divine image carved of misty willow. But for no discernible reason, Xuanwu kept thinking that there was something not right with Tao County’s “Tai Sui.” 

He clutched the wooden amulet, his completely bloodless fingers tapping softly on it: he thought that the ancient demonic god that corresponded to misty willow—called “reincarnation wood” by the people of Wan—had ultimately fallen in Southern Wan. 

Yu Chang had obtained a hundred thousand white spirits from Yu Family Bend and ignited a spirit-gathering array in Tao County to offset the Moon’s Shadow… The divine image carved into the reincarnation wood had taken on Yu Chang’s form…

And Xiang Wenqing had said that Yu Chang seemed to be colluding with Southern Wan’s Luwu. 

Every aspect of this seemed to point to Xuanyin Mountain being behind it. 

In that last century, two of Xuanyin’s shed skins had gotten in trouble, and Zhao Yin’s Way of the Heart had even broken, killing him on the spot. What were they up to? 

Had their veins of the earth also been burned up by the gold smelting furnaces? Were they planning to follow in He’s ill-fated footsteps? 

Xuanwu’s expression became slightly grimmer. “Let’s return.” 

Openly sending spies to infiltrate other countries and run wild—the Wan had gone too far. 

“Notify the Qilin Guard, tell them to establish a branch here at once. Build it right outside the scope of the spiritual energy prohibition. Within the scope of the prohibition, transfer a detachment of border troops to be garrisoned there. Have them start strictly checking anyone entering or exiting starting in the next few days, and registering all inhabitants. Place of birth, relatives, and so on must all be clearly stated, without concealment. Close Tao County’s ferry crossing. Do not permit any foreign person to come ashore,” Xuanwu said. “Also, have all the misty willow within Tao County cleared away, and order the common people not to worship evil gods.”