Night Rain, Parting

The secret chamber had no windows. The charcoal fire roared in its brazier, bathing the four walls in crimson.

Bare-chested, Chen Ping held a pair of iron tongs and dropped the last gold brick stamped with an official seal into the crucible.

As the heat licked at it, the gold brick—emblem of worldly power and wealth—slowly slumped and melted into a pool of red-hot liquid.

With practiced ease, he poured the molten gold into specially made leaf-shaped molds. Once cooled, they became thin as cicada wings, easy-to-hide Gold Leaves.

The rosewood chest beside him had long since been thrown open. Inside lay nearly five thousand taels' worth of gold, silver, and valuables, neatly arranged.

The fortune was enough to make him a wealthy man in any prosperous corner of The Liang Dynasty, with more than enough to keep generations of his family well fed and clothed.

Yet as Chen Ping looked at the chestful of gold and silver and ran his fingers over their hard surfaces, he felt no comfort at all. Instead, it was as if a boulder pressed down on him, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

"Common gold and silver can buy fine clothes and good food, but they can't buy a life."

He picked up a newly made Gold Leaf and clenched it hard until its edge bit into his palm.

Half an hour earlier, Doctor Li from Huichun Hall had just left the rear courtyard.

He was the best physician in Qinghe County. Chen Ping had paid him a full fifty taels for the consultation, but all he did was shake his head again and again over Yun Niang, who lay unconscious.

"Scholar Chen, your wife wore herself out in her younger years, and her heart meridians have been knotted for a long time. Though she now has fine clothes and good food to nourish her, her body is too weak to benefit from tonics. This old man is powerless. I can only prescribe some mild restorative medicines to keep her going, but her constitution... I fear she won't make it past the great hurdle of forty. No medicine can cure her. No medicine can cure her..."

The old doctor's sigh still echoed in Chen Ping's ears.

Chen Ping closed his eyes. Yun Niang's face rose in his mind, growing paler by the day, yet always smiling at him with gentle warmth.

She was barely into her twenties, the age when life should have been at its best.

"No medicine can cure her..."

Chen Ping's eyes flew open, a fierce resolve flashing in them.

"If mortal doctors can't save her, then I'll seek an immortal physician! If there's none in The Liang Dynasty, I'll go to Taihang Market, to the Cultivation World!"

He tucked the Gold Leaves into a special compartment in his belt and fastened it around his waist, then snuffed out the charcoal fire.

Autumn rain pattered down beneath a gloomy sky that seemed ready to press down upon the earth.

Wearing a straw rain cape, Chen Ping arrived at a rundown courtyard in the west of the city.

This was the home Tie Niu had just acquired. It was humble, but the simple-minded fellow had kept it spotlessly clean.

"Brother Ping! What brings you here in such heavy rain?"

Tie Niu was mending the chicken coop in the yard. When he saw Chen Ping come in, he hurriedly dropped his hammer, wiped the rain from his face, and grinned foolishly, showing a row of white teeth.

Chen Ping didn't go inside. He stood beneath the eaves, took an oilpaper parcel and a letter from his clothes, and handed them over.

"Tie Niu, I'm going away for a while. I don't know when I'll be back. This deed is for the two mu of paddy fields next to yours. I bought them and put them in your name. And this letter—if I haven't returned in a year, open it then."

Tie Niu froze, clutching the deed as if it were burning hot.

"Brother Ping, I can't accept this! I've got two good hands and two good feet..."

"Take it!"

Chen Ping's voice grew firm, leaving no room for argument.

"Also, when the festivals come around, go to my family's graves, add some earth, and burn a little paper money for them."

"Ha! I thought it was something serious!"

Tie Niu breathed a sigh of relief and scratched his head, honest and guileless.

"Leave it to me! You're a man destined for great things, Brother Ping. Go on and make your mark. I'll look after things here. Nothing will go wrong!"

Watching Tie Niu's guileless smile, Chen Ping felt a pang of bitter guilt.

This journey might be a farewell forever.

The path of cultivation was treacherous, and life and death impossible to predict. He couldn't—and didn't dare—drag Tie Niu into it.

"I'm off."

Chen Ping said nothing more. He turned and plunged into the curtain of rain.

"Brother Ping, come back soon! My ma said she'd make braised pork for you when you get back!"

Tie Niu's booming voice rang out behind him.

Chen Ping paused, but didn't turn around. He merely waved a hand, then strode away and vanished around the bend at the end of the lane.

By the time Chen Ping returned to the small courtyard in the south of the city, night had fallen.

He shut the doors and windows tight and lit an oil lamp with a tiny flame.

Sitting before a bronze mirror, he took out a pile of bottles and jars and began smearing their contents over his face.

A moment later, the handsome young man in the mirror was gone. In his place was a middle-aged, down-at-heel merchant, with sallow skin, drooping eyes, and a face full of worry.

Then he went to the bedside and gently woke Yun Niang.

"Sister Yun, we have to go."

Yun Niang drowsily opened her eyes. She started at the sight of Chen Ping, then understood. She asked nothing, obediently letting him apply makeup to her face until she looked like a deeply wrinkled old woman, haggard with illness.

"No matter what happens, don't make a sound. Stay close to me," Chen Ping whispered.

Yun Niang clasped his hand tightly and nodded with all her might, her eyes filled with trust.

An ordinary-looking Green Canopy Carriage stood in the courtyard.

Chen Ping helped Yun Niang into the carriage, then lifted the hidden panel in its floor.

He had carefully modified the compartment. It held not only the several thousand taels' worth of Gold Leaves, but also two finely made Strong Crossbows, three tubes of Sleeve Darts, and a full five jin of Corpse Dissolving Powder and lime.

"Master, I've just received word."

At that moment, several rhythmic owl hoots came from beyond the courtyard wall.

They were signals from an informant Chen Ping had placed back when he worked at the yamen.

Chen Ping went to the wall and heard a hushed voice on the other side.

"A few of the Jin Family stragglers are said to have teamed up with Black Wind Stronghold outside the city. They're meeting tonight at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion. They say they're going to... to make a move on you along the road out of the city."

"Understood."

Chen Ping replied coldly and tossed a silver ingot over the wall.

A muffled thud came from the other side as it was caught, followed by footsteps moving away.

"Planning to ambush me?" A cold smile curled Chen Ping's lips. "Too bad. I'm not giving you the chance."

He had planned to leave first thing tomorrow morning, but now he had to go at once.

It was the dead of night, with rain pouring in sheets—the perfect weather for murder and robbery, and the best cover for a covert escape.

Chen Ping climbed onto the carriage, helped Yun Niang settle herself, and took one last look back at the cozy nest where they had lived for the past few months.

It held the most peaceful days he had known since arriving in this world, and it was also the home he and Yun Niang had made together.

But he knew that longing for the past was an epitaph for the weak.

He crouched and buried a Black Iron Sphere in the earth beneath the threshold.

He had paid a fortune for the shoddy Thunderfire Bead on the Black Market. It was no match for a cultivator's spell, but it could still blow someone's legs off.

If some heedless thief or enemy ever broke in, this could be his parting "gift."

"Hyah!"

Chen Ping flicked the reins. The carriage wheels rolled across the waterlogged blue-stone road with a heavy rumble and carried him out of the lane.

At the city gate, the rain fell even harder.

The towering gates were shut tight, and several Stormproof Lanterns swayed precariously in the wind and rain.

"Who goes there? The curfew's already in effect. No one is allowed out of the city!"

The guards shouted, crossing their spears to block the road.

Chen Ping jumped down from the carriage and hunched his back. With a servile smile plastered across his face, he hurried up to the guards, a heavy piece of silver already in his hand.

"Please, sir, show a little mercy. I'm a medicine merchant from the east of the city. My old mother's taken gravely ill, and I have to go to a neighboring county to find her relatives and seek a doctor. There's no time to lose."

As he spoke, he quietly slipped the silver into the leading guard's hand and lifted his head just enough to reveal a face that seemed familiar.

By the light of the lantern, the squad leader weighed the silver, ready to bark at him—then suddenly recognized the eyes that, even through their disguise, still struck fear into people's hearts.

The owner of those eyes was the ruthless Chen the Flower Examiner, a man who killed without blinking!

The squad leader shuddered and was about to salute, but Chen Ping gave the slightest shake of his head, his eyes warning him to stay quiet.

"Ahem..."

The squad leader understood at once. He stuffed the silver into his robes and waved his hand with an air of indifference.

"If it's a matter of life and death, then hurry up and get lost! Don't let it happen again!"

"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Chen Ping thanked him profusely, climbed back into the carriage, and urged the horse onward.

The heavy city gate was pushed open just wide enough for the carriage to slip through in silence. Soon, it vanished into the vast curtain of rain.

Beyond Qinghe County, the main road was a muddy mess.

The outline of the city behind him grew ever more indistinct, then was swallowed by darkness.

Chen Ping let the ingratiating smile fall from his face and straightened his back.

He pulled from his clothes the crimson "Golden Sun" token he had taken from the Evil Cultivator old Daoist, rubbing his thumb over its cold, hard lines.

Rain slid off his bamboo hat and spattered across the token.

"Taihang Market..."

Chen Ping murmured to himself, his eyes growing razor-sharp.

From this moment on, he was no longer Chen the Flower Examiner of Qinghe County, nor a servant of Lin Manor.

He was a desperado, about to enter the killing grounds of the Cultivation World in search of survival and immortality.

The carriage lurched violently. Its wheels sank into a deep rut, creaking under the strain.

Alongside the road ahead, a faint trace of blood drifted in on the cold night wind, mingling with the soft clink of clashing weapons.

Were they roadside bandits, or something more dangerous?

Chen Ping didn't slow down. Instead, he tightened his grip on the short blade hidden in his sleeve, a bloodthirsty gleam flashing in his eyes.

The wheels rolled on, crushing the mud—and the road home—beneath them, carrying him without hesitation into the unknown darkness ahead.