Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Origins and Essence of Cultivation

What Shuo, the magistrate, said did not surprise Shen Lian in the slightest. Unfortunately, he had been born under the red flag and grown up in New China. He might possess some filial piety, but as for loyalty, he had none at all.

He gave the magistrate a carefree smile, but said nothing more. Their paths and beliefs differed; there was no need to argue.

By the time the magistrate summoned his men to take Meng Han back to the prefectural yamen, it was well past noon.

Meng Han had actually awakened midway, but could not bear such humiliation or the gazes of others. He had no choice but to feign unconsciousness to the end.

Meanwhile, those in the inn and its surroundings who were secretly observing, all men of the martial world, were forced to reevaluate Shen Lian. After all, Meng Han was no minor figure in the jianghu. Though he was not on the same level as the renowned Chief Constable Yang Ying, who also served the court, he was by no means ordinary.

Shen Lian, having shown but a glimpse of his skill, was inwardly pleased. He could not be bothered with the inn’s petty affairs and simply strode out.

Qingzhou Prefecture’s city was not exactly large, but neither was it small. There were perhaps only a handful of sights worth seeing.

Shen Lian walked the dusty streets, his mind free of distractions. To others, he must have appeared lost in thought, yet, despite the bustling traffic and numerous obstacles, he was never bumped, tripped, or shoved aside.

“Is that Shen Lian?” called a voice, unfamiliar yet able to name him, suggesting an acquaintance.

Shen Lian turned and saw a stout, middle-aged man looking at him. After a brief moment of recollection, Shen Lian realized it was Xu Hong, a relation on his maternal aunt’s side. Xu’s family had never liked him, so Xu Hong had only seen him a few times in childhood. By rights, Xu Hong should not have recognized him unless he had been paying attention for some time.

Of course, Shen Lian quickly dismissed this theory, for beside Xu Hong stood a young maid in blue. If he was not mistaken, she was from his eldest uncle Shen Qingshi’s household. He did not know her name, but her face was familiar.

Xu Hong smiled and said, “I heard your inn opened today. How is it you have time for a stroll?”

Shen Lian turned slightly, neither close nor cold, and replied, “It’s but a small matter, nothing to worry about. I’ve never heard of you, Uncle Xu, personally handling every detail when a new pawnshop opens.”

“Haha! You’re much more interesting than you were a few years ago. Back then, you barely spoke to anyone. Since we’ve met, why not come to my house for a visit?” Xu Hong had learned from the maid that the elegant young man before him was Shen Lian, and his heart stirred.

The last time trouble befell the Five-Tong Spirit, it was at the Shen house. He had asked his sister about it, and apart from Shen Lian’s peculiarities, there was nothing else suspicious.

Xu Hong had already heard about the inn opening, and had sent a gift as was proper for an elder, but did not think it worth attending in person. Compared to the Shen family’s wealth, even a centuries-old inn was a trifling matter. Even Shen Qingshan considered it of little importance.

After leaving the Shen house, Xu Hong had planned to sound out Shen Lian another day. By chance, the maid had just been sent out by his sister to fetch the latest rouge from Yan Shui Zhai in the capital, and Xu Hong thought to bring some home to please his wife.

Xu Hong, having grown up in Qingzhou, did not keep a grand entourage. He strolled the streets, teasing the pretty maid as he pleased.

The maid, not born in the household, had some spirit and would not play along. She was uncertain how to respond when she spotted Shen Lian.

To be sure, Shen Lian was the dream of every Shen family girl under twenty, save for Shen Ruoxi herself. He was aloof as an immortal, with striking, refined features. Such a young gentleman brought joy to all who saw him.

Even the maid, who usually joined the others in teasing about Shen Lian, wishing to one day rise above her station, could not help but be thrilled.

With Shen Lian present, Xu Hong would not dare go too far with his teasing.

Shen Lian nodded to the maid—a habit he had picked up in modern times, greeting all acquaintances regardless of status, for he truly felt no distinction of class or rank.

This slight nod, however, sent the maid into a flutter. She was elated that the young master remembered her, though they had only met once, and that but a fleeting glance in a crowd. It filled her with both delight and excitement.

If she told her friends back home, they would be green with envy.

Xu Hong’s earlier teasing now seemed trivial to her.

Shen Lian, not privy to others’ thoughts, had no inkling of the maid’s feelings. Had she known of his photographic memory, she might not have been so happy.

Shen Lian could not read the hearts of maids, but he sensed an unpleasant aura from Xu Hong, which piqued his curiosity.

He said, “As I am at leisure, I would not mind visiting your house, Uncle Xu.”

He suddenly recalled that the aura about Xu Hong matched that of the fiend from Shen Ruoxi’s dream.

“Once I’ve bought the rouge, we’ll head back. Mind you, though your Shen family’s wealth surpasses ours, it takes three generations to understand food and clothing. Our old Xu family’s cuisine is not something the Shens can match,” Xu Hong said, unable to resist a boast.

He invited Shen Lian, remembering that his sister had said no one from the Shen family had come home lately except Shen Lian. The night Shen Ruoxi recovered from her illness, she had reportedly called out Shen Lian’s name.

Others dismissed it as a child’s dream, but Xu Hong and his sister knew her sickness was due to an evil god, and the dream was likely not ordinary. Shen Ruoxi calling Shen Lian’s name must have some hidden meaning.

Xu Hong had not planned to seek out Shen Lian today, but fate made them cross paths in the street.

Xu Hong hoped to learn from Shen Lian who had injured the Five-Tong Spirit, while Shen Lian was eager to uncover the origins of the fiend from Shen Ruoxi’s dream.

Though Shen Lian now possessed the Scripture of the Sword that Destroys Gods, he still had little clue about the path of cultivation.

The Scripture of Divine Footsteps had merely allowed him to cultivate inner energy and granted him some superhuman strength, but it was not the true method of immortality.

Even if, according to Ling Chongxiao’s story, this skill was linked to the immortals of Mount Qingxuan, its essence was still a martial art.

Of all Ling Chongxiao’s disciples, none had achieved immortality through this.

Cultivation has roots and branches; whether it be the Supreme Purity Spiritual Treasure’s Mind-Calming True Explanation or the Scripture of the Sword that Destroys Gods, Shen Lian lacked true understanding. Ling Chongxiao could not, or might not wish to, resolve his doubts.

The fiend who could invade dreams and wield evil arts might hold more secrets about cultivation.

Sensing traces of that aura from Xu Hong, Shen Lian was determined not to miss the opportunity.

Thus, by a twist of fate, the two found themselves in agreement.

Unfortunately, after buying her rouges and powders, the maid had to return to the Shen household, reluctant to part ways.

Shen Lian, oblivious to romance, disappointed the young girl’s hopes as he accompanied Xu Hong to the Shen family home.