Volume One: First Steps into the Martial World as an Immortal Chapter Five: The Prince of Liang Personally Sees His Heir Off; Even an Eunuch Knows Loyalty

At the foot of Mount Clearcloud, Priest Fuming held a wooden sword in one hand, a heavy bundle slung across his back. He muttered under his breath, “Those stingy clerks in the accounting room—really, what a miserly bunch. I told them I was here on my master’s orders to collect funds for traveling down the mountain, but they still refused. In the end, I had to take matters into my own hands. Well, it can’t be helped. My master probably won’t blame me. And if he does, so be it. After all, I’ve already left the mountain.”

Priest Fuming plucked a blade of grass and tucked it between his lips. He turned back for one last look at Mount Clearcloud. “I don’t know when I’ll return, or if I’ll ever come back. I hate to leave my little junior sister behind. She doesn’t even know I slipped away—will she be heartbroken? Sigh. As long as Peaceful Priest stays safe, that’s enough.” With these thoughts, he turned and strode northward.

Back at the Mount Clearcloud Daoist Temple, Priest Taiping gazed sternly at two disciples, their eyes swollen from crying. His face shifted between green and purple with suppressed anger as he asked, “What could have made you so miserable? All within our temple should be at peace, cultivating their hearts. What could have upset you so?”

One disciple replied, “Uncle Master, it’s Junior Brother Fuming. He said he was acting on your orders to collect traveling expenses from the accounts office.”

Priest Taiping frowned. “Indeed, he’s going down the mountain to travel. According to our temple’s rules, he’s entitled to ten taels of silver for the journey.”

“Uncle Master…” the other disciple said softly, “Fuming asked for a thousand taels, claiming it was on your orders.”

“You gave it to him?” Priest Taiping asked in astonishment.

“Of course not. That’s why he took it by force, saying if there was a problem, we should find you,” one of the disciples explained.

Priest Taiping’s lips twitched. He recalled Fuming mentioning he would collect a little money for expenses, and he’d nodded in approval. But a thousand taels—how could that be called a little?

“From now on, you’ll all drink porridge for a year!” Priest Taiping declared.

In the Prince of Liang’s residence, Chu Mingxuan and the pudgy Yang Wen returned to the library. Yang Wen assumed Chu Mingxuan wanted to study martial arts manuals, for the prince’s estate was famed for its abundance of such texts. During the founding of Fengyang, martial sects across the land had stirred trouble in secret. The Prince of Liang led troops to suppress them, slaughtering countless martial artists and collecting their manuals in the process.

But the Prince of Liang had also drawn many heroes to his service. The current estate harbored an untold number of hidden masters.

“Mingxuan, have you finally come to your senses? Are you prepared to ascend the immortal path?” Yang Wen asked.

“What’s the point in cultivating immortality? It’s dull. I plan to travel outside Liangzhou and want to read up on local records. I’d hate to reach a place and not even know who the most famous figure is,” Chu Mingxuan replied lazily.

Yang Wen jumped to his feet in alarm. “What? You’re leaving Liangzhou? When?”

Sitting on the floor, Chu Mingxuan looked up at him. “I told the old man I’d leave tomorrow, but you know me—I’ll go whenever I please.”

After a moment of silence, Yang Wen said, “Mingxuan, let me go with you.”

Chu Mingxuan looked at him. “If you don’t come, I’ll have the old man strip your father of his post as magistrate.”

Yang Wen burst out laughing. “Of course I’ll go! I’m worried you’ll get lost. All right, I’d better go home and tell my parents I’m leaving and pack my things.”

Chu Mingxuan, still reading, waved him off. “Go on, then. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have dragged you here.”

Yang Wen left the library. At the door, he turned back, gazing at the entrance, murmuring, “If I hadn’t spoken up, you wouldn’t have brought me. But I, Yang Wen, am no coward.” With that, he strode out toward the gate.

Meanwhile, Chu Mingxuan looked up at the staircase, a smile flitting across his face. He shook his head, then bent over his book once more.

Two days later, at the city gate of Liangzhou, the Prince of Liang, clad in iron armor, and the princess watched their sons prepare to depart. The prince laughed heartily, “On this journey, seek only happiness. Even if you leave Liangzhou and take a liking to some girl, feel free to bring her home—I’ll back you up.”

The princess smiled demurely at his words. “No one but the Prince of Liang would teach his son this way.”

Standing just behind them were the magistrate and his wife. The magistrate addressed Yang Wen, “Wen’er, no matter what happens, remember that the prince’s life is more precious than yours. You must take good care of him.”

Yang Wen nodded to his parents, then assured the prince and princess, “Rest easy, my lord. The young prince will return safe and sound.”

The prince nodded approvingly. “Liangzhou breeds heroes.”

At these words, all the gathered citizens and officials turned their gaze to Yang Wen.

Chu Mingxuan saluted the princess. “Mother, your son takes his leave.” Then he turned to the prince. “Old man, you promised—if I bring someone back, you’d better keep your word.” Finally, he called out to the people of Liangzhou, “I’m just going out for a bit of fun. Don’t miss me.” With that, he mounted his horse, called out to Yang Wen, and the two rode off.

At the same time, countless carrier pigeons soared into the sky from the city, scattering in all directions. The Prince of Liang watched his son’s retreating figure and said quietly, “Arrest everyone who released pigeons. Send more men—there might be Purple Mansion experts among them.”

“Yes, I will see to it personally,” responded a young general behind him.

In Bingzhou, a young man dressed as a farmer—Little Stone—sat at a roadside stall sipping tea. He had been cautious on his journey, dressing as a commoner and smearing ash on his face for disguise.

He didn’t know what was written in the letter he carried, but he knew if anyone else saw its contents, he would die, even with his Zhenyuan-level cultivation.

To avoid suspicion, he didn’t head straight for Liangzhou but detoured through Bingzhou, where he had a sworn brother he could trust with his life. Before entering the palace, they’d sworn an oath together.

Yesterday, passing his brother’s stall, he pretended to shop. Unnoticed, he slipped the letter under the goods, picked up a wooden wind-wheel, and asked, “Boss, how much for this? I remember playing with my brother at Moonlit Bay when we were kids.”

The stall owner looked up sharply at the mention. Their eyes met, and Little Stone gave a slight shake of his head. The owner managed to control his reaction and stammered, “Five wen each.”

Little Stone set it down, pressed the goods, and said, “Too expensive. If only it spun faster.” Then he walked away.

Now, sipping tea, he mulled over their coded exchange. He felt he’d made no mistakes, and his brother seemed to be living well. Still, he regretted dragging him into such danger.

Just then, a sense of danger swept over him. Smiling, he murmured, “So, you’ve been following me all along.”

He stood, took a heavy purse from his robe, tossed it onto the table, and called, “Boss, keep the change.” With a flicker, he vanished into the nearby woods.

Instantly, the air filled with the sound of weapons slicing through the wind as pursuers gave chase.

The teahouse owner, stunned, collected the purse. Opening it, he found dozens of taels of silver and stood frozen, unsure what to do.

Little Stone raced through the forest, but no matter how deep he fled, he couldn’t shake his pursuers. Suddenly, a figure appeared ahead—a man with a bamboo hat and a spirit blade in his arms. Little Stone stopped immediately.

Seeing this man, Little Stone knew escape was impossible. The oppressive aura he exuded marked him as a Purple Mansion expert.

His pursuers caught up, thirty men encircling him.

“Speak. Will you confess, or must I force it out of you?” the man in the hat asked.

Little Stone glanced around and smiled, “I’m just a traveler stopping for tea. What could you possibly want from me?”

The man slowly drew his blade. “Still pretending? You’re Little Stone, the emperor’s personal eunuch. Did you think we believed you really died of sudden illness, just because that’s what the emperor announced?”

Little Stone’s heart jolted. He didn’t know who had sent these men, but it was surely a powerful figure from the capital. Hearing the emperor had declared him dead, he felt a measure of relief.

“Yes, I am. So what? I won’t tell you anything. Save your breath,” Little Stone said, lifting his head defiantly.

The man laughed softly. “So you refuse the easy way. Fine.” With a flash, he slashed at Little Stone.

Sensing the attack, Little Stone spun aside, drawing a flexible sword from his belt, gathering his energy to parry.

But the moment their blades met, Little Stone was thrown back by the force, crashing to the ground and coughing up blood.

The man stood where Little Stone had been. “To reach Zhenyuan realm at your age is impressive. But compared to the Purple Mansion, you’re still far too weak.” He ordered his men to seize Little Stone. With a palm strike, he shattered his dantian, then tied him to a tree.

“We’ve searched him thoroughly, sir. He had nothing on him,” a subordinate reported.

The man replied coldly, “Then cut off his flesh, piece by piece. He’ll talk when he’s ready.”

The men obeyed, advancing on Little Stone.

Though blood spilled from his mouth, his face wore a smile as he struggled to swallow it, though more trickled down his chin.

The man in the hat walked away. Behind him, Little Stone’s pained groans and the questioning of his subordinates rang out. But he had no interest in the process—he only cared about the result.

Half an hour later, a subordinate ran up and bowed. “Sir, no matter how we tortured him, he wouldn’t say a word. Just kept swallowing his own blood—stubborn as a stone in a latrine, foul and unyielding.”

The man looked back. Little Stone’s head had slumped; he was dead, nothing left but bloodied bone on his chest.

“Find everyone he spoke to on the way here. Leave no one alive,” the man ordered, then turned and walked away.

P.S. This is Earthworm’s new novel. I hope everyone enjoys it. Fellow Daoists, please spare a recommendation vote for Earthworm. I’ll be waiting for you in the comments. Wishing all fellow Daoists peace and health!