Chapter 13: The Demonic Cultivator

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Shiliang Town lay in the southeastern reaches of Qizhou, under the jurisdiction of Feng’an Prefecture—one of the more remote regions within the State of Chu. Yet, compared to other frontier settlements, Shiliang Town enjoyed a measure of good fortune.

The biting cold of the southern Grand Tian Mountains never reached this place, nor did the frictions among the small western kingdoms spill over its borders. Though the east was close to the land of Yue, a vast and insurmountable chasm divided the two countries; people of either side might live their whole lives without ever laying eyes on one another. Conflict was not merely unlikely—it was impossible.

Moreover, the town bordered Linzhou, with its well-maintained official roads. As a result, Shiliang Town was by no means backward in its development. During festivals and lantern fairs, it was likely one of the liveliest places in all of Feng’an Prefecture.

Song Yan walked leisurely through the town, occasionally greeting familiar faces.

"Candy apples! Icy towers—come and get your sweets!"

"Step right up, take a look—odds and ends from north and south!"

"Old Liu, what sort of strange things have you picked up this time…?"

"Ah, listen to yourself…"

"Honored guests, combs from Dongyuan Township, clay figurines from Nanhong City, Buddha carvings from Xi Qi River, flower seeds from Bei Ya Mountain—whatever you want, dig through the chest yourself…"

From the teahouse by the roadside, the storyteller’s words flowed like a river:

"Gentlefolk, the world grows ever more tumultuous. Last we spoke of Li Lianshou, famed as the Divine Chef of the capital and head of the palace kitchens, accused of treason and executed with his entire household…"

"Today, I’ll recount the tale of the youngest general of Chu—the late Marquis of Yan, Li Yi, who died in battle at the border at only eighteen…"

"Oh! How many of you? Very well, three for the east second wing room. Honored guests—please, this way!"

The sharp-eyed inn runner spotted Song Yan.

"Oh my, Doctor Song! Uh… see, there goes my tongue—Immortal Song."

"Off with you… Is A’nian here?"

The runner, Huang Dou, was an old acquaintance of Song Yan’s. Nothing seemed to have changed.

"No, haven’t seen him today… Ah!" Huang Dou suddenly slapped his forehead. "Look at me! He should be at the Meng Family Clinic today. Captain Ling has been resting these days, so little Nian is keeping his master company at the clinic."

"Thank you."

"Take care!"

By then, Song Yan’s grandfather had already passed away, and Song Yan himself, once hailed as a miracle doctor’s apprentice, had been introduced by Zhao Fengcheng to cultivate within the Immortal Sect. Some were concerned about future medical needs in town.

Fortunately, there was still another physician.

Passing through the market crowds, Song Yan glanced up at the weathered sign above the clinic’s doorway.

Meng Family Clinic.

Song Yan stepped inside.

"Ye Sheng is here."

"Uncle Meng, I’ll be returning to the sect soon—I have something to discuss with A’nian."

"Oh, Captain Ling and the others are in the backyard. Lulu and Darong are applying medicine for them."

"Alright."

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In the backyard, Xu Darong and Meng Lu had just finished tending to an old and a young constable and were cleaning up.

"Captain Ling."

"Ye Sheng."

Upon seeing Song Yan, Captain Ling smiled slightly. "I heard from A’nian and Yun’er about yesterday—thank you."

"Think nothing of it."

After a few polite exchanges, Song Yan called Sheng Nian out of the clinic for a private word.

"You didn’t know anything about this so-called Sage Xinshan, did you?"

"Never even heard the name." Sheng Nian waved a hand. "I’m just a mortal—how would I know anything about your cultivator affairs?"

"But he sent people to Shiliang, and you seemed to be their target…"

"?

Sheng Nian’s brows knit as if about to refute, but then he paused and looked up at Song Yan.

"Those three are dead?"

"…"

"You killed them?"

Song Yan paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Good," Sheng Nian replied simply. "My master will soon join the Six Gates Guard. When that happens, I’ll leave Shiliang."

"Where will you go?"

"Anywhere but here."

"If you get the chance, take that disciple token and try your luck at Sheyang Sect."

This was spoken with a subtle technique—transmitting sound directly to Sheng Nian’s mind, so not even eavesdroppers could overhear.

Sheng Nian seemed to consider it, but did not nod.

Song Yan waved his sleeve. "I’ll be off, then."

"Not going to say goodbye to the others?"

"No, better not. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to leave…"

…

…

"Demonic cultivators?"

Dongyuan Sect, Outer Sect Miscellaneous Affairs Hall.

Lin Qing frowned deeply as she examined a bloodstained page and three pitch-black nails, her thoughts turning.

"If that’s the case, this mission of yours is a great service."

Indeed, Song Yan was a bit stingy and turned in only three of the nails—enough to recount the incident. If he hid any details, the sect could easily uncover the disappearance of three villagers in Yunding Village, and then follow the trail back to him, which could lead to accusations of harboring demonic artifacts.

Better to be safe—so he confessed everything, down to the last detail.

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Lin Qing produced a blank jade slip from her storage pouch and handed it to Song Yan.

"Junior Brother Song, record the entire process within. I’ll report to the elders immediately."

"Yes."

It didn’t take long. Lin Qing soon departed in haste.

Song Yan checked his task rewards before leaving the outer affairs hall.

"The mission itself brought ten spirit stones and ten sect contribution points, which is already quite generous. Providing clues about demonic cultivators earned me another ten contribution points on top of that—an unexpected bonus."

Cultivation resources came in many forms: pills, talismans, arrays, magical tools, spirit stones, cultivation manuals…

But sect contribution points were perhaps the most solid currency among disciples.

With enough points, one could exchange for any of those resources within the sect—assuming the sect had them in stock.

Previously, Song Yan had only accumulated a small number of points from routine chores. Now, with these twenty, he had forty-eight in total. Not a great fortune, but enough for some fine items.

No rush—best to save them until truly needed.

Without delay, Song Yan hurried toward the Lingyuan Marsh Market.

"Granny Qin!"

Qin Xijun was napping in a rattan chair, her posture rather unrefined. Song Yan hadn’t even set foot in the Troublesolvers’ Shop before he called out loudly.

"Good heavens! You rascal, why are you shouting so loud?!"

"You nearly scared this old woman out of her wits…"

Realizing his mistake, Song Yan glanced around cautiously. Luckily, the place was secluded and there was no one to overhear.

He stepped into the shop, closed the door behind him, and even locked it.

"You… what are you up to?" Granny Qin was puzzled. "You haven’t run off with the sect leader’s wife, have you?"

Now it was Song Yan’s turn to be speechless.

Enough—best to be direct. He patted his storage pouch and dumped all the contraband onto the small counter, arranging them item by item.

"Hmm? Yin Puppet Rebirth Nails? Only two, though…"

"And this… Spirit Transformation Blood Pills? Even the pill recipe?"

"These thick sheets must be materials for low-level paper puppets…"

The more she looked, the more surprised Granny Qin became. These were all things only demonic cultivators would use—how had this kid gotten mixed up with them on his trip down the mountain?

Song Yan, for his part, grew increasingly impressed. Granny Qin truly had a vast store of knowledge, recognizing everything at a glance. That made things much simpler—no need for lengthy explanations.

After all, Granny Qin was always fair in her dealings when it came to prices.