Chapter 521 - 1: The Opera
Hai Zhou Road, Huiping City.
This was the southern gateway of the Chu Country. After the war with the north came to a temporary halt, the Court reopened the border at the request of various parties, and merchant caravans that had been waiting for a long time immediately swarmed in.
Besides the merchant caravans, there were even more loose Qi Cultivators. They too came here to earn money. Because the struggle between the Taiyin Sect and the Yuqing Sect within the Hu Mountain Country was still raging, the roads were often unsafe, so southbound caravans would typically hire one or two Qi Cultivators for protection.
Of course, the most prosperous area in Huiping City was around the Golden Pavilion. Its pleasure district was considered the finest in the south. Dignitaries and nobles from the Southeast Islands and the southern regions of Zhongzhou would come here to while away a day or two, experiencing some exotic flavor. Some even had a taste for the Demon Race.
As for the merchants passing through, there was no way they could spend money like the characters in storybooks. Sometimes they were too frugal to even buy a piece of jerky, as their minds were constantly occupied with calculating costs. However, that didn’t stop them from bragging everywhere, hyping up the Golden Pavilion to the heavens and attracting the truly wealthy clans and literary scholars from all over to witness its splendor.
「7:15 PM.」
At the entrance to the wooden bridge leading to the Golden Pavilion, a temporary opera stage had been erected. It was flanked by various food stalls. The area in front of the stage was already packed with people, all gazing with eager anticipation, awaiting the grand show that was about to begin.
Tonight’s performance was the most popular play among the common folk in recent years. It was called ’The True Man Subdues the Warlords’ and was an opera adapted from the deeds of Changqing Zhenren, who had swept through the warlords of True Yang Mountain.
"I heard that back when Changqing Zhenren was just starting his cultivation, he visited our Huiping City several times!"
A middle-aged man in a clerk’s robes said this to his friend while sipping tea. His voice was particularly loud, as if he were quite proud of this piece of information.
Someone nearby immediately asked, "That was hundreds of years ago, wasn’t it? How would you know?"
A smug look appeared on the middle-aged man’s face. He elegantly set down his teacup and said, "The archives at the border pass and the County Magistrate’s Office both have records of Changqing Zhenren passing through back in the day!"
"I think the County Magistrate’s Office should take it out and enshrine it in the Changqing Temple for all of us to admire!" someone suggested. His proposal immediately won the approval of everyone nearby.
The middle-aged man looked slightly embarrassed, as he had no authority over such a matter. Fortunately, a tight drumroll suddenly sounded from the direction of the stage.
The show was starting.
Instantly, all eyes in the vicinity turned toward the stage, including those of the dignitaries and nobles preparing to cross the wooden bridge into the Golden Pavilion. But they would only spare it a single glance before moving on, as the opera inside the Golden Pavilion was far superior.
One person, however, shouted "Bravo!" along with the audience, then casually sat down at a nearby Eight Immortals Table. He waved to a waiter from a nearby lamb soup stall and ordered a bowl of lamb soup.
The man looked very young, dressed in a wide-sleeved, pale-green robe and a Scholar’s cap trimmed with gold. He carried a paper fan. He was followed by a youth who looked like a Scholar’s Attendant. The attendant wore gray linen clothes and carried a leather satchel embroidered with a blooming lotus flower.
"Young Master, can you understand what they’re singing?" the Scholar’s Attendant asked curiously.
"Not a word," the young man replied, shaking his head.
"Then why do you look so happy?"
"Because they’re happy."
The young man looked up at the crowd. They would periodically shout "Bravo!", and the singers on stage would grow louder in response. Unfortunately, the opera was performed in a local dialect, so outsiders could barely understand a word.
"Aren’t we going to the Golden Pavilion tonight?" the Scholar’s Attendant asked.
"This is plenty interesting right here!"
The performance lasted for nearly half an hour. During that time, a stagehand carrying a bronze gong came around three times to collect tips. When the opera ended, some of the audience departed reluctantly, while others stayed put, waiting for the second performance to begin.
Just then, another person from the stage came down with a bronze gong to collect tips.
Most people gave one cent; the wealthier ones might give a dozen or so. When it was the young man’s turn, his Scholar’s Attendant fumbled inside his robes for a good while before pulling out half a silver ingot. Just as he was about to clip off a piece with a pair of iron shears, the young man said, "Give him the whole thing."
"Yes, Young Master!"
The Scholar’s Attendant placed the half silver ingot into the gong. A stagehand immediately cupped his fist in a bow and said, "Thank you for your generosity, Scholar Master!"
The young man simply waved a dismissive hand, then rose from the Eight Immortals Table. After a final glance at the distant Golden Pavilion, he turned and walked toward the nearby square where carriages were parked.
Once in the carriage, the young man instructed the driver, "To the estate in the East Suburb."
By this hour, the city gates were long closed. The people out enjoying the evening were either commoners from nearby farms and suburbs or dignitaries and nobles who owned estates outside the city walls.
Before long, the clamor outside the carriage had faded away completely, leaving only the chirping of insects in the summer night.
As the carriage passed a paddy field, several riders on swift horses galloped up from behind. In the blink of an eye, they overtook the carriage and came to a firm stop in front of it.
The young man inside the carriage looked at his Scholar’s Attendant and said, "It seems we’ve attracted trouble by showing our wealth."
As he spoke, he quickly formed a spell with his hand. An earthy-yellow Profound Light flashed around the carriage, and then dense spikes shot up from the rammed-earth road.
SQUELCH!
The bandits blocking the road had no time to react before the earth spikes impaled them and their horses. Fresh blood gleamed with an eerie red light in the night sky.
Then, the churning earth dragged the corpses deep underground. At the same time, the dense spikes on the road rapidly dissipated. In a mere moment, everything was peaceful once more.
"To the estate,"
the young man instructed again.
The driver, completely unfazed by what had just happened, simply nodded and said, "Yes," before dutifully urging the carriage onward.
A quarter of an hour later, as the carriage approached a fork in the road, the young man suddenly said, "Stop!"
The carriage stopped at once.
Somehow, the young man was already out of the carriage, standing before a statue at the three-way fork.
The statue was newly crafted. It depicted a Taoist master with two heads: one was ferocious, filled with killing intent; the other had the compassionate expression of a great Profound Cultivator of the Taoist Family. Most striking of all was the terrifying great serpent coiled around its body.
"I really underestimated you," he muttered.
As he spoke, he formed a spell with his left hand, and the statue instantly shattered into pieces.
A look of satisfaction flashed across the young man’s face as he gazed at the shattered statue. He then transformed into a streak of light and returned to the carriage, repeating, "To the estate."
Not long after he left, a Cultivator dressed in black stealth gear landed before the shattered statue. He formed an identical spell with his left hand, and in the blink of an eye, the statue was restored. He then solemnly cupped his fist in a bow, performing the salute of a junior of the Taoist Family.
Just then, another person emerged from the nearby darkness.
"Are you sure it was him?"
"Positive. It’s Xuanhe’s aura. He may have changed his appearance, but the aura he gives off when he casts a spell doesn’t change." The man before the statue turned, the moonlight revealing a face filled with killing intent. It was Wenhai.
"Good. This time, he won’t escape."