Small Tian Village

Small Tian Village.

A bullock cart slowly rolled past along the roadside.

A hand lifted the cart curtain, gazing out at the fields.

"Two hundred mu of neatly divided farmland, all fertile soil, with an irrigation canal beside it. Not bad at all."

Zhong Shenxiu offered his assessment slowly.

"Yes. We can build a manor too. The clansmen will be delighted to hear it."

Su Tang lowered his voice beside him. "The two hundred mu cost a total of three thousand White Emperor Coins. Building the manor will require another two hundred White Emperor Coins. Even so, my clansmen volunteered their labor."

In this era, everyone, from high officials and nobles to commoners, possessed an inexplicable love of land.

Su Tang had also been born into a landowning family. Now, inhaling the familiar scent of the fields, even he felt somewhat stirred.

"The fields are still insufficient, but this will do for now. I'm only a Subordinate Ninth Rank official, and this is already enough to attract attention."

Zhong Shenxiu had always acted prudently, and he gave the order indifferently.

"Yes, sir."

Su Tang nodded, having unconsciously begun to regard him as a figure much like the clan head.

"Let's go back."

Zhong Shenxiu nodded and had Su Tang drive the carriage back to Fufeng City.

At the residence in Sweetwater Alley, quite a few people had moved away by now, and it had once again grown much quieter. Su Wei was boiling tea beneath the plum tree. When he saw the two of them arrive, his eyes curved into a smile. "Brother! The neighbors have always said the water from this well is bitter, but after we came, it became astonishingly sweet. It's perfect for brewing tea."

"Oh? Then I'll have to try it."

Zhong Shenxiu did not stand on ceremony. He sat beneath the plum tree and took a sip of tea. Sure enough, it tasted quite good.

Watching Su Wei and Su Tang chatting and laughing, Zhong Shenxiu felt a touch of warmth in his heart, along with a sense of ease. He knew it was the relief that came from fulfilling a promise.

It was not a promise to that dead man, Su Daozhi, but one he had made to himself—another sort of bottom line.

My bottom line has always been rather high. Probably...

Zhong Shenxiu yawned. "I'm going to sleep for a while. Don't disturb me."

He entered the room, sat cross-legged, and pondered in silence. "The Su Family has more or less been settled. It's time to consider cultivation..."

"As a Deputy Envoy of Exorcism, I usually cultivate, but I still need to inspect various places and suppress evil beings. Fortunately, Feng Xi'er knew I had matters to handle and gave me leave..."

"However, obtaining true Daoist Arts from the government is unlikely. I can only seek another path. There are some gatherings where Rogue Cultivators exchange knowledge. I might as well go take a look..."

Zhong Shenxiu had no connections in this regard.

Even Feng Xi'er would probably not introduce him to such a circle without properly tempering him for some time.

But it did not matter. During this period, Zhong Shenxiu had searched out quite a few Yin Spirits, one of whom remembered the location of a similar secret gathering.

What a pity... Apart from those who achieved it through fortuitous encounters, most such Yin Spirits were down-and-out Rogue Cultivators. Their Daoist Arts were not even as good as Su Daozhi's Profound Yin Soul Control Fragment. Only Wu Tong's had some merit...

Zhong Shenxiu went to the writing desk, ground the ink, and began writing down a Magic Incantation.

It was an incomplete method for refining a magic artifact called the "Mysterious Yin Nail."

The first Yin Spirit Zhong Shenxiu had subdued recently was named Wu Tong. He had obtained this Magic Incantation, but had treated it as Daoist Arts and cultivated it in a chaotic manner. Perhaps that had been one of the reasons he died young.

What a pity. I only have half of it... The upper half is missing—the Daoist Arts known as the "Mysterious Yin Nail"!

Daoist Arts were inferior to true-inheritance Magic Incantations.

Moreover, after reaching the Gang Sha Realm, if something was not one's Natal Daoist Art, there was no need to cultivate it. Most people simply embedded it into some magic artifact.

This formula contained only the method of refining the artifact, without any Daoist Arts to infuse into it.

It was a case of a clever housewife finding herself without rice to cook.

Zhong Shenxiu sighed, but did not take it too seriously.

Refining magic artifacts was actually something done at the Gang Sha Realm.

Cultivators who had not reached that stage possessed no magic power within their bodies. Whatever they did, they would achieve half the result with twice the effort.

He had copied out this Magic Incantation only to take it out and see what he could obtain for it, using it as an equivalent item for exchange.

This day, it was once again the night of the Twin Moons' full moon.

Black Wind Ridge, outside Fufeng City.

Lamp oil had been precious in ancient times. Looking out now, the land lay shrouded in darkness.

Only the pure moonlight hung high overhead.

Around the mountain ridge, gloomy winds howled. From time to time, several crows cried out, sending chills straight to the bone.

A young master with a face like carved jade and an air of extraordinary refinement wore a white robe and held a folding fan. His wide sleeves fluttered as every step carried him several dozen feet. Before long, he arrived before a valley exuding a thin mist.

"Hee-hee!"

"Haha!"

At some unknown point, ghostly laughter came from all around, sometimes distant and sometimes near, drifting unpredictably—enough to drive an ordinary person insane with fright.

Even martial arts experts knew evil beings haunted this place and would not dare linger.

The young master chuckled softly. "On the night of the full moon, at the gathering in the valley, why does the host turn away his guests?"

"Caw-caw!"

The ghostly cries surrounding him abruptly ceased, replaced by the sound of wings flapping.

A white crow suddenly flew out of the thick mist.

No!

It was not a real crow, but a dead object folded from paper. Yet its two soybean-sized eyes were vividly alive.

"So it's a fellow Daoist. I don't believe I've seen you before."

The crow perched on a treetop and spoke in an old human voice.

"I am Zhong Shenxiu, known in the martial world as Young Master Shenxiu. Greetings, Old Crow."

Zhong Shenxiu gave a slight bow. "I've long heard of Old Crow's astonishing abilities—that you can send your Yin God out of the body and possess other forms. Seeing you today, I find the rumors were indeed true."

The so-called Yin God leaving the body was actually nothing more than a low-grade Daoist Art.

An Yin God outside the body was extremely weak, much like those Yin Spirits. It feared sunlight, strong winds, and thunderclaps... It could only hide in places rich in yin energy.

Some Daoists specialized in cultivating this Daoist Art, allowing their own Yin Spirits to leave the body and possess mediums such as paper figures or animals, performing all manner of uncanny deeds.

In reality, however, they remained heavily restricted. The technique could easily be broken if one was careless. Once the spell was broken and the Yin God damaged, the consequences ranged from madness at best to instant death at worst.

Zhong Shenxiu had also forcibly resisted the temptation and refrained from directly using the [Shepherd] ability to refine this reckless fool.

Only after cultivating a Primordial Spirit could one gather and disperse at will, fear nothing, and appear no different from an ordinary person.

"Haha, fellow Daoists are simply being generous with their praise. Since you came specifically for this Black Mountain Gathering, please, come in."

The paper crow had no idea how many thoughts had turned through Zhong Shenxiu's mind. It flew into the mist, causing the thin fog to part and reveal a passage.

Zhong Shenxiu chuckled softly and followed. Before long, he reached a valley.

A bonfire burned within the valley, with several scattered groups of people sitting beside it.

No—some of them were not people!

Zhong Shenxiu looked around. Most of the cultivators attending the Black Mountain Gathering concealed their faces and identities. Some wore bamboo hats, while others donned masks.

Some had simply sent their Yin Gods out of their bodies and possessed paper figures, spirit monkeys, wild wolves, and the like. The scene looked practically like a gathering of demons.

All of them were looking toward him now, amusement glinting in their eyes.

Clearly, they thought that someone like Zhong Shenxiu, who had entered the gathering without concealing himself in the slightest, was either a greenhorn or a reckless fool.

As for hiding his true strength? An Xiantian martial artist had nothing worth concealing!