A Chance Encounter Between Immortal and Mortal

Chapter 33: A Chance Encounter Between Immortal and Mortal

Little Stone crouched at the very front, one hand braced on his knee. Jostled by the crowd, he lost his balance and fell face-first onto the road.

"Get up, you little brat!" The constable's club came swinging down at Little Stone's head. Little Stone cried out in pain, curled up with his arms over his head, and screamed for help.

"Stop!" A sharp voice rang out, and the constable's club halted in midair. Little Stone felt the pain in his body fade. He raised his head and saw an immortal standing in the sunlight, seemingly glowing all over, looking down at him. "Are you all right?"

Little Stone stared blankly, not knowing how to answer. Only one thought filled his mind: This man... he's just like my older brother!

Not in appearance, but in the way he felt.

"Brother He, pick him up," Feijianzi said. He had planned to fly straight into the Prefecture Office, but Old Crane was old and weak. By the time they arrived, he had already been utterly exhausted, so they had been forced to land near the city gate.

Old Crane lowered his head and swayed it from side to side. The filthy clothes made him unsure where to bite, but at last he reluctantly clamped his beak onto the back of Little Stone's collar and lifted him up. Little Stone swung through the air in a circle. Whether from shock or delight, he shrieked, the bun in his hand flailing about.

"Put him down." Zi Bofeng stood by the roadside, looking up at the Feathered Crane Immortal. His eyes were clear and bright, without a trace of fear or adoration, as if he were simply looking at an ordinary man.

From the scenes the Porcelain Shard had once shown him, Zi Bofeng knew people like this existed in the world. Besides, he himself possessed similar powers. He was curious, but not surprised.

Feijianzi looked down. Zi Bofeng, dressed in a plain scholar's robe, met his gaze with calm indifference. Though he was only an ordinary boy, his eyes were unexpectedly placid, devoid of the worship and yearning most people felt when they saw an immortal. He looked Feijianzi straight in the eye—perhaps even looking down on him.

Like a spectator high above the clouds, gazing down upon everything in the mortal world.

Just one glance, and it was as if the boy had seen through the forty-odd years of Feijianzi's life.

In that moment, Feijianzi thought, With a state of mind like this, if he came with me to the mountain sect to cultivate, he might defy the heavens.

But the next second, he shook his head regretfully.

A faint spiritual aura wafted from the boy, rising like mist. It was a sign of a deep spiritual root. But in a world where spiritual energy had withered, someone who constantly shed spiritual energy would lose it faster than he could gather it. This boy probably wouldn't live to see twenty before all his spiritual energy dissipated and he died.

What a pity.

After stopping the constables from swinging their clubs—they had, in truth, already been too scared to move—Feijianzi asked, "What's your name?"

"Zi Bofeng," Zi Bofeng answered. He looked up at the immortal, who seemed about his age. "And you?"

"Heh..." Feijianzi laughed. Ever since he had descended the mountain, this was the first time anyone had asked his name—and with such an equal, matter-of-fact air.

"Feijianzi."

After watching Feijianzi leave, Zi Bofeng found his brows furrowing against his will.

Seeing Feijianzi had reminded him of an item once recorded in Lower Yan Village's accounts: "Jade Tax."

In fact, Lower Yan Village's taxes were lower than those of other villages because it had a special tax of its own: the Jade Tax.

Once every thirty years, each household had to pay three pieces of jade or one piece of fine jade. When Zi Bofeng had audited the accounts for Meng City, he had found that this tax applied to a dozen or so jade-producing villages under its jurisdiction. At fifty households per village, that came to more than three thousand pieces of jade every thirty years. Where had all that jade gone?

The records said, "Presented to the immortals."

But the Jade Tax, collected once every thirty years, had last been paid just ten years ago. Now, ten years later, Lower Yan Village had only just begun to recover.

Hopefully... it wasn't because of the Jade Tax.

Zi Bofeng furrowed his brow. He wanted to look into it, but not far ahead, the Prefect and Qianshan were standing outside the city office, waiting to welcome the immortal. Guards stood every few paces, the whole place on high alert, as if facing a great enemy.

For the moment, there was no one he could ask.

"Brother, brother..." Little Stone tugged at Zi Bofeng, who had drifted into thought, and pointed ahead. "Uncle's coming."

A short distance away, Zi Jian stood by the roadside, staring blankly at the packed crowd, unsure what was happening.

Zhuzi was sweating like a horse as he pulled a handcart down the main road at a run. Zhuzi's Mother lay in the cart behind him. That morning, before Zhuzi had even set out to search for jade, Zhuzi's Mother had fallen ill again.

"Zhuzi, slow down. Don't rush. Mother's all right... slow down..." Hearing her son pant like an ox, Zhuzi's Mother ached for him and murmured softly.

But Zhuzi was focused only on getting there. How could he hear her? He kept his head down and ran as fast as he could.

They had come more than a hundred li, and even a burly man like Zhuzi was already panting, his throat nearly smoking.

An eagle's cry rang out in the sky. A huge shadow swept over the cart, and Zhuzi looked up. A giant eagle circled above. In the direction it had flown, Meng City was already faintly visible.

"Mother, we're almost there."

But by the time they reached the city gate, the main road was packed so tightly that not a soul could get through. Zhuzi shouted hoarsely from where he stood, "Please make way! Please, help us through! My mother is sick. I need to get her into the city to see a doctor!"

At his cries, the pedestrians shifted a little, but the road was already packed shoulder to shoulder. Many vendors had struggled to claim a good spot. How could they be expected to move? Zhuzi shouted until his voice was hoarse, yet barely made any progress.

"Please, let us through! I'm begging you!" Hearing his mother's coughs grow more urgent and feeble, Zhuzi's voice broke with tears.

"Uncle Zhuzi, over here! Over here!" Zi Bofeng walked out of the city gate with Little Stone on his back. Perched on Zi Bofeng's shoulders, Little Stone spotted Zhuzi shouting anxiously at once. He waved the pure white feather in his hand like a pinwheel, beaming with excitement.

The feather had fallen from the great crane and landed right in Little Stone's collar. Now it was his spoils of war.

Zi Bofeng wasn't so oblivious as to miss the panic on Uncle Zhuzi's face. He knew at once that Zhuzi's mother must have fallen ill again.

"Uncle Zhuzi, has Second Grandma's illness flared up again?" Zi Bofeng hurried over and looked down. Uncle Zhuzi's mother had grown even weaker; she could barely cough anymore.

"My mother fell ill again. I brought her here to see a doctor, but I can't get through..." Zhuzi was near tears. He no longer cared that he disliked Zi Bofeng. He clutched Zi Bofeng's arm as tightly as if it were a lifeline.

"Uncle Zhuzi, don't worry. We'll stay here with Second Grandma. Go find a doctor and see if you can bring him out," Zi Bofeng said.

"Ah, I'll be right back!" Zhuzi slapped his forehead and dashed away without even stopping to thank them. Zi Bofeng shook his head gently, calling out as he pushed the cart through the crowd. He took it to a less crowded spot beneath the shade of a tree, then stood on tiptoe and peered into the distance.

Little Stone crouched on the cart shaft and fanned Zhuzi's Mother with the feather, trying to cheer her up. "Second Grandma, don't worry. Uncle Zhuzi will be right back. Little Stone will fan you."

Zhuzi's Mother managed a weak smile, but couldn't speak. When her illness struck, she couldn't catch her breath, and Little Stone's feather-fanning wasn't much help. Zi Bofeng spotted a palm fan behind the cart and picked it up.

As soon as he lifted the fan, the thing it had been covering was revealed. Zi Bofeng saw it and froze.

Zhuzi ran all the way to the clinic. The old physician, who had been weighing medicine, looked up at him and shook his head. "Don't come to me again. I told you, your mother's illness can't be cured. No matter how much you pester me, it won't help."

This wasn't the first time the old physician had turned Zhuzi away, but Zhuzi refused to give up. Again and again, he came with money in hand.

"Doctor!" Zhuzi dropped to his knees and kowtowed, again and again, as if he would never get up unless the physician gave him an answer.

"Ah..." The old physician saw the blue bricks beneath them stained red with blood from Zhuzi's forehead and sighed softly. "It's not that there's no way, but this method... isn't something you can manage."

"Doctor, whatever it is, I can do it. As long as you can save my mother, I'm willing to be your ox or horse for all eternity..." Zhuzi hadn't even finished speaking before he slammed his head down again. The doctor was beginning to feel sorry for his bricks.

Little Stone grew tired after fanning for a while. Sitting on the cart shaft, he heard a rustling sound behind the cart, as if something were there.

Little Stone looked around and spotted a cage lashed to the back of the cart. It was woven from tough vines and soaked in tung oil, making it exceptionally sturdy. No matter how fiercely the white creature inside bit at it, it couldn't damage the cage at all.

Little Stone leaned down and peered through a gap, then cried out, "Brother, look! It's a little fox!"

Yes, Zi Bofeng had seen it long ago. He was in a quandary. The fox was none other than the White Fox that had snuck into his home to steal the book. Though the White Fox was cunning, Zhuzi was the best hunter in Lower Yan Village. No doubt Xitui had also played a major role in catching it. He had known that Xitui wouldn't let things go so easily. And now Zhuzi had brought the little fox here, likely planning to sell it to pay for his mother's treatment.

The Record of Raising Monsters