An Aristocratic Clan from Three Dynasties Ago

"Huff... huff..."

Hu Mang rolled over and sat up, his legs sprawled on the ground as he gasped for breath.

He braced both hands against the ground and tried to stand, only for his head to spin and stars to dance before his eyes. He landed right back on his backside.

The Spiritual Qi that had already dwindled to a trickle dried up completely, blocked by dense turbid Qi.

The gray that had been confined to his eyes suddenly spread, forming large gray bruises on his skin.

He narrowed one eye and surveyed his surroundings. One Immortal-Binding Rope Law Artifact after another descended from the sky, binding the wrists and ankles of the "humanoid bull demon." Then several figures in "demon-subduing" Daoist robes descended from the sky, accompanied by the "doo-doo-doo" of sirens.

Clearly, the situation was already under control.

"Fellow Daoist, are you all right?"

A hand patted Hu Mang on the shoulder. Hu Mang shook his head and felt around in his luggage for a small medicine bottle, from which he took two pills as red as fresh blood and stuffed them into his mouth.

Soon, as his Qi and Blood rumbled, the muscles beneath Hu Mang's skin began to move involuntarily. His spine expanded and contracted several times in succession, and the grayish-blue on his skin was once again suppressed.

The Demon-Suppressing Guard who saw this visibly changed expression, a trace of surprise and suspicion flashing through his eyes, though he quickly recovered.

Hu Mang waved a hand, refusing the man's support, and stood up. Then he turned to look at the "bull demon" across from him.

Several cultivator physicians were moving the "humanoid bull demon" onto a stretcher. One of the white-coated doctors pressed his fingers to the demon's pulse and sensed it for a moment.

"It should be acute Demonization. Nothing serious. He probably worked too much overtime and didn't get proper rest. A beast-of-burden illness."

"But if he can turn into a bull demon at the Foundation Establishment Realm, he's probably a junior team leader at some major spirit enterprise. He's likely close to the Golden Core Realm and wanted to make a push for it."

The physician searched him and, sure enough, found an employee badge.

Wang Zeyu - Spirit Network Architect

"What's a spirit network architect?" Hu Mang suddenly asked.

"A programmer," the cultivator physician explained. "He programs the myriad heavenly scripts and orders the mysteries that guard a city. In the old days, he'd have been drawing talismans."

"I see, a code monkey," Hu Mang said, nodding in understanding. He pondered for a moment, then added:

"Then why did he turn into a bull demon instead of an ape spirit? Isn't he a code monkey?"

"..."

Seeing the two men stumped by the question, Hu Mang laughed, hoisted his luggage onto his shoulder, and started to leave.

"Fellow Daoist, don't rush off yet. Leave us a way to contact you, in case we need to reach you later," the Demon-Suppressing Guard beside him suddenly said.

"Sure. Contact me if you need anything."

Hu Mang promptly left his name and phone number.

His readiness only made the Demon-Suppressing Guard more suspicious.

Old Foundation Establishment residential complex, Azure Cloud Lane

Hu Mang had already entered when he remembered that he hadn't returned the "shared flying sword." He went around until he found a "sword case station."

Then he discovered that the small gate on the north side of the old complex was locked, so he had to make a long detour to enter through the main gate.

In broad daylight, the residents were either on duty at their new sects or cultivating in seclusion. Those sitting lazily outside their doors in the sun were all old cultivators whose meridians had deteriorated, leaving them unable to cultivate. It had to be said, there really were quite a few white-haired old cultivators like that in an old complex like this.

"Little Hu, Little Hu, you're back?!"

As Hu Mang passed a Law Artifact repair shop, an old man who had been sitting there bored looked up and happened to see him. He rubbed his eyes and exclaimed in surprise.

"Uncle Ma, why aren't you out on the streets collecting old, broken Law Artifacts today?"

Hu Mang changed course and walked straight into the shop, greeting the middle-aged man who was fiddling with a battered "constant-temperature furnace cauldron."

"You rascal! You're back!"

Uncle Ma laughed and gave Hu Mang a hearty slap on the shoulder with his callused hand.

"When you got into the Southern Capital Academy, your mother went door to door handing out celebratory candy. It feels like just yesterday. Well, great scholar, you've finally come back! How many years has it been since I last saw you?!"

As Hu Mang caught up with Uncle Ma, his eyes wandered all around the shop.

Uncle Ma used to be an itinerant repairman, specializing in old household Law Artifacts. Later, as the times changed, people stopped wanting to repair old Law Artifacts, and he found himself half unemployed.

So the old man started a new business: pawning old Law Artifacts and buying secondhand Spirit Artifacts. In common parlance, he was a junk collector. He took old Law Artifacts apart for their casings, spirit tubes, and spirit power compressors. It might not have looked very respectable, but it actually paid quite well.

When Hu Mang was little, he had always wanted to apprentice under Uncle Ma and inherit his trade. Since the old man had no children anyway, Hu Mang could provide the full package, caring for him in his old age and seeing him off at the end.

And inherit his estate while he was at it!

But no sooner had the idea popped into his head than his mother nearly beat him to death.

As his mother put it, she hadn't brought him all the way from their old blessed land, moving a thousand miles, just so he could become some itinerant repairman.

The Hu Household had been a proper Aristocratic Clan back in the day!

Of course, "back in the day" meant before the Heavenly Gate was established.

This wasn't even a case of using an official post from the previous dynasty to flaunt one's wealth and status in the present one. According to his mother, their Aristocratic Clan dated back three dynasties.

A household medicine cauldron with a layer of unidentified black sludge at the bottom, a thunderfire moxibustion device with its needle removed, an old-fashioned bronze pulse-diagnosis figure, an image-recording jade case at least thirty years old, a mechanical wooden horse powered by tribulation oil, a bronze washing basin engraved inside with the Silk-Washing Painting but lacking an automatic laundry function...

Hu Mang had loved hunting for treasure here as a child.

He still did.

"Mom?"

Hu Mang opened the door and went inside, only to find no one home.

If nothing unexpected had happened, his mother was gossiping with some auntie or other on her way to the market again, so caught up that they had lost track of heaven and earth, east and west, sun and moon.

He hadn't been back in nearly five years, but the old apartment was no different from how he remembered it: three bedrooms and a living room. No, more precisely, two bedrooms, a partitioned room, and a living room. The partitioned room in the middle was the "cultivation room."

He couldn't remember which year the "renovate old cave abodes, bring Spiritual Qi into homes" initiative had been introduced, but ordinary families like theirs could now cultivate in seclusion at home instead of having to run to an academy and squeeze into a "communal cultivation room" with other students.

That was what was known as the "micro Spirit Vein grid": dividing up the Spiritual Qi from a large blessed land and channeling it into thousands upon thousands of homes.

After putting down his luggage, Hu Mang stretched. He had intended to plop down on the sofa, but after a moment's thought, professional instinct prompted him to take out an industrial-grade handheld Spiritual Qi detector and go measure the "cultivation cubicle."

34

"Gushing Spring Grade? Seven or eight points higher than before. I didn't expect our home to enjoy the benefits of 'intermediate Spiritual Qi' too."

"Is this the benefit of a blessed land being promoted to a sacred land?"

In ancient times, Spiritual Qi had only been divided into three types: low-grade, intermediate-grade, and high-grade Spiritual Qi.

But as cultivation became industrialized and specialized, a Spiritual Qi grading system with only three levels had long since ceased to meet the needs of the modern cultivation system.

Thus, a more detailed classification became inevitable.

And the division into grades from 0 to 100 was currently the most widely applicable system in the cultivation industry.

Grades 1 through 30 fell under low-grade Spiritual Qi, the so-called zone for cultivators' everyday survival.

Above grade 30 fell under intermediate Spiritual Qi.

The so-called efficient cultivation zone.

Grade 34 belonged to the "Gushing Spring Grade" of intermediate Spiritual Qi, so called because the Spiritual Qi gushed forth like a spring, with currents swirling around one's body.

Hu Mang reached his hand into it and, sure enough, felt a faint breeze. Spiritual Qi followed the breeze into his pores, and he instantly felt much more refreshed.

"Little Xu, you're back. Come eat with me. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can grab a cultivation room."

At the Demon-Suppressing Bureau, his acquaintance Old Zhang greeted Little Xu.

"You go ahead. I still have something to do."

Little Xu, the Demon-Suppressing Guard who had responded to the incident earlier, was looking down and searching for something on the spirit network.

Old Zhang immediately grew curious. The young man was at the Foundation Establishment Middle Stage, only one step away from the late stage, and was usually among the most eager, whether it came to responding to calls or cultivating.

What was going on?

He went around the front desk and glanced at Little Xu's monitor, where he saw that Little Xu was searching the Demon-Suppressing Bureau's internal spirit network.

"Prohibited pills? What are you looking those up for?"

"I have a suspicion. Take a look at this."

Little Xu switched pages and showed him his Divine Sense rendering. What it depicted were the red pills Hu Mang had taken.

"Are they prohibited pills? Why do they look a little familiar?"

"No." Little Xu gave him a strange look. "They're this stuff."

He brought up the image of the pills that the search had returned.

"Aphrodisiacs? I knew it... Ahem." Old Zhang's weathered face turned red, and then his expression grew solemn.

"Don't go talking about this. Remember to keep it confidential within the bureau."

"Got it." Little Xu rolled his eyes, folded his arms, and leaned back in his chair. He loosened his somewhat stiff neck and asked in puzzlement:

"This stuff isn't a prohibited drug, much less some kind of demonic-path pill, right?"

"Of course not. This stuff... Ahem." Old Zhang immediately became agitated, then seemed to remember something and resumed his solemn expression.

"Pharmacies on the street all sell it. It's a perfectly legitimate civilian prescription that nourishes the kidneys and cultivates Qi and Blood. How could it count as a prohibited drug?"

"Is that so..."

Little Xu murmured to himself.

Old Zhang hesitated, but in the end couldn't resist saying, "But I've heard—and I've only heard—that overseas, they can do some extreme things with a prescription containing the same ingredients. For example, the ingredients are the same, but the dosage is ten or even dozens of times higher. Some second-generation cultivators who let themselves go and indulge their desires buy drugs like that, and quite a few have played themselves to death with them. But those count as fierce medicines. Lineages with strict family discipline generally wouldn't let their own children do that."

"Is it against the rules?"

"As long as they don't sell it on the market, what rule are they breaking? Besides, even if it were against the rules, it wouldn't be our turn to investigate. Don't forget, we're the Demon Suppression Bureau, not the vice squad."

"..."

Only after Little Xu repeatedly assured Old Zhang that he would keep it strictly confidential did Old Zhang go to eat, still not entirely reassured.

Little Xu, meanwhile, fell into thought once again.

Was it really that simple?

Once again, he recalled looking down from high in the sky while responding to the call earlier, and seeing that pair of eyes that absolutely did not belong to an age of peaceful cultivation.

That person's gaze...