Poplar Mountain Spirit

One more step forward, and the kid would have been a pancake.

The child snatched up his rattle from the ground, coughing incessantly as the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves choked him. His parent finally squeezed through the crowd, scooped the child up, and ran off without looking back.

People on the street began to voice their disapproval, but the rider in the white robe acted as if he heard nothing, looking up toward Uncle Hao instead.

Uncle Hao remained expressionless.

Liu Baobao, standing right beside He Lingchuan, gave a forceful cough: "Who are you people? Do you not know that galloping through a busy market is punishable by lashing?"

"Who would carry out the punishment?" The white-robed youth let out a laugh, making no effort to hide his contempt. "You?"

The man's gaze was like a needle. Liu Baobao felt his skin crawl under that stare and couldn't help but shrink back: "Blackwater City has strict laws. Why don't you try riding a few more paces and see what happens?"

Once those words were out, the youth ignored him entirely, shifting his gaze to He Lingchuan as if he knew he was the one in charge.

He Lingchuan smiled at him, but the other man stared back with careful scrutiny for a moment before urging his horse forward once more.

The grey-clad traveler behind him never once looked up.

After this brief disturbance, the two slowed their pace, and the men, women, and children on the street watched them disappear around the corner.

That direction led out of the city toward the northeast.

Uncle Hao spoke at the right moment: "Both of these men possess cultivation, especially the grey-robed one in the back; I cannot discern his true depth. That white-robed brat might be from a military background."

He Lingchuan raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised.

Uncle Hao had once slaughtered over a dozen wealthy households in the capital in a single night before being enlightened by a practitioner of the Dao, learning arts and tempering his ferocity. His cultivation was profound, and he held the position of a high-level retainer in the He family. Since he said the grey-robed man was formidable, He Lingchuan had no reason to doubt him.

These two didn't look like ordinary merchants; what were they doing in this borderland?

Just then, a few more people arrived in the center of the street—the Blackwater City patrols. They had been alerted and asked the surrounding crowd: "What happened?"

"Two people were galloping through the market, nearly trampling a child!" The crowd spoke all at once, the gist of it clear.

Only two? Then it wasn't the eldest young master of the He family; thank goodness. The patrol was even angrier. Looking up, he happened to see He Lingchuan leaning out of the window to watch the commotion. He quickly offered a greeting, his face relaxing and his lips curling into a smile: "Is Prefect He well?"

"Well, very well," He Lingchuan said with a grin. "Are you here to chase them?"

"We are!" the patrol captain said, righteous and stern. They had been told not to gallop, yet they insisted—if that wasn't contempt for the law, what was? "They must be severely punished!"

He Lingchuan pointed the way for them: "Those two headed toward the northeast gate."

The patrol captain thanked him and led his men off in pursuit.

After they left, Uncle Hao remarked: "Those few patrols won't be able to keep them."

"I know that. I was just casting a stone to ask the way," He Lingchuan shrugged. "This is Blackwater City; do you think they would dare to start a major conflict in broad daylight?"

However, the patrols returned about a quarter of an hour later, empty-handed.

He Lingchuan wasn't surprised by the result, but he had to get to the bottom of it: "What about those two?"

The patrol captain, not expecting him to still be waiting for the outcome, looked a bit awkward. He cleared his throat before saying: "Those two are subordinates of the General Who Conquers the North, the Governor of Xun Prefecture. They are here in Blackwater City on official business and presented a Fire Seal Official Document."

He Lingchuan let out a long "Oh."

He knew the patrol captain was referring to Nian Zanli, the General Who Conquers the North. This man held the governorship of Xun Prefecture, making him the top official in both military and civil affairs, with far more power than the Inspector of Jin Province.

A prefecture was under the jurisdiction of a province. If He Chunhua, the Prefect of Qiansong Prefecture, were to meet this General Who Conquers the North, he would have to respectfully refer to himself as "your subordinate."

The patrols soon left. Liu Baobao looked a bit uneasy: "Those two shouldn't remember me, right?"

"It's such a small matter, why would it be worth their concern?" He Lingchuan offered a hollow comfort, though he wondered to himself: why would the Governor of Xun Prefecture send his men to Blackwater City?

Just then, two claps of thunder rolled across the sky, booming loudly enough to make one's ears ache, causing the dogs on the street to yelp and run away with their tails tucked between their legs.

The people of Blackwater City were used to it and went right back to what they were doing.

He Lingchuan looked west and saw wind and clouds rising on the horizon, a vast, thick mass of dark clouds.

The storm was coming.

"The storm is coming." The white-robed youth looked at the sky, then at the man in grey. "What do you think? Will this place do?"

The two of them were, in fact, at Gourd Mountain.

It had seven peaks, three of which were bare rock and earth, as rugged as the head of a bald giant.

Though it was unremarkable in appearance, Gourd Mountain was actually rich in rats, rabbits, foxes, and deer, and sometimes people could even hunt wild boars and grey wolves there.

The two stood on a game trail, having already checked several caves.

"Though the land is not lush, there are plenty of living creatures. In terms of quantity, it is barely enough." The grey-clad man produced a Purple Gold Pestle. Its top was carved with a bulging-eyed, wide-mouthed monster, and beneath its feet were four hanging rings, the end sharpened like an awl, gleaming with a metallic luster.

With a flick in the wind, the foot-long pestle transformed into a seven-foot Purple Gold Staff.

The grey-clad man drove the staff over a foot into the earth. Only when it stood firm on its own did he ask the white-robed youth for a green copper coin and stuff it into the monster's mouth.

The mouth closed on its own, biting the coin, and a red light began to grow in the monster's eyes.

The grey-clad man began to shake the top of the pestle.

The rings beneath the monster's feet immediately began to jingle and clatter. At first, it sounded chaotic, but after listening for a while, one could discern that it was following a specific rhythm, repeating over and over again.

And each repetition was clearer, louder, and... carried further than the last!

The insect chirps and bird calls that had filled the mountain forest vanished entirely, leaving only the sound of a bell echoing, lingering without end.

The youth in the white robe took a long, deep breath.

Even with his level of focus, listening closely to the ringing soon left him dizzy and nauseated, his heart pounding and ears ringing, forcing him to scatter his concentration and stare blankly at the distant mountain peak.

By diverting his attention, he found it bearable.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a loud clatter sounded behind the two, followed by an exasperated voice:

"Stop shaking it, cease, stop that ringing!"

The Purple Gold Pestle stilled at the sound. The two turned back to see a poplar tree swaying its branches, rustling loudly, the voice seemingly emanating from the leaves themselves.

The poplar was gnarled and vigorous, weathered by time, appearing to be at least three or four hundred years old; it was the largest tree in the vicinity.

The youth in the white robe spoke first: "Are you the local Mountain Spirit?"

"I am the Mountain Spirit of Poplar Mountain, appointed two hundred years ago. Though it is called Gourd Mountain now." The voice of the Poplar Mountain Spirit was peculiar, as if produced by the friction and vibration of countless leaves; it was muffled at first, but grew more fluid with every word.

It was as if someone who hadn't spoken in years was relearning the ability. "I have been in a deep slumber for a long time; even the local officials could not wake me. Who are you?"

Only then did it sense the copper coin held in the Beast Head of the Purple Gold Pestle, and it was quite surprised: "Eh, this is a State Decree of the new dynasty, it seems to be called... what was it? Kite?"

"Kite Coin." The man in the gray robe tapped the Beast Head, and the cyan copper coin fell into his palm. If any bystander were watching, they would see that this object was slightly larger than an ordinary copper coin, with a hole at the top to facilitate tying a cord.