Time flew like a shuttle, and another three years passed in the blink of an eye.
At night, inside the government offices in Jing Province City.
In a quiet study, a potbellied middle-aged man sat at a desk, engrossed in reviewing a thick stack of official documents.
Suddenly, the tightly shut wooden door swung inward on its own with a bang.
A gale immediately rose outside, and a blurred figure appeared like a ghost in the doorway.
"Who's there?"
The middle-aged man reviewing the documents started in alarm and rose to his feet.
"Prefect Jiang, I hear an elder of your clan was once an elder of the Thousand Bamboo Sect, yet you yourself are merely a mortal. Have you ever resented that?" The blurred figure coughed lightly and tottered into the study, revealing himself as a Daoist in a gray robe patterned with the Eight Trigrams, with a longsword on his back.
He looked to be in his fifties, with a withered frame and a sickly face, as though a gust of wind could knock him over.
"Who exactly are you? What do you mean by that?
"Don't you know that the Immortal Masters of the Thousand Bamboo Sect issued a prohibition long ago? Immortals and mortals must remain separate. Immortal Cultivators are strictly forbidden from interfering with the daily operations of Jing Province's government offices or contacting any of their officials!" Rather than backing down, the potbellied man sternly rebuked the Daoist.
"Heh, the Thousand Bamboo Sect?
"The Thousand Bamboo Sect can't even protect itself now. How could it spare any attention for mortals like you?
"I can't be bothered to waste words, so I'll be direct. As long as you agree to follow my instructions, Prefect Jiang, I can keep your entire family safe. Otherwise, tonight will