Chapter 25: Jianghu Affairs

Perhaps the caravan leader’s unspoken wish had been heard. Jianghu arrived.

“Stop! Fox demon!”

The caravan leader and the young girl continued strolling down the street. The girl spotted a bookshop not far away, with a few men who looked like scholars standing outside. They walked over.

“I told you to stop! Fox demon, don’t run!”

The caravan leader turned to look. In the distance, a plainly dressed man was walking toward them.

The girl also turned and looked. She glanced left, then right. No one else. She pointed at herself and tilted her head.

“That’s right. I’m talking to you.”

The man was now within two zhang. He looked like an ordinary commoner.

He held a stick in his hand, staring at them warily. His legs were trembling slightly.

A crowd gathered, watching the spectacle. No one dared get close to the man; they all kept several zhang away.

“Who sent you?” the caravan leader asked calmly.

“No one sent me. I came on my own.” The stick-wielding man was still trembling.

The caravan leader sighed. He lowered his head to explain to the girl.

“This is one of those jianghu matters I told you about. For example, some people want to test you, but they don’t dare to do it themselves. So they find someone else to test you.”

Seeing the girl still tilting her head in confusion, the caravan leader continued.

“First, they think cultivators are indifferent to human life. They’re afraid of offending one and getting killed. That’s why they don’t dare test you themselves.”

The girl nodded thoughtfully. She understood now. She also pieced together the logic behind the man’s appearance.

The caravan leader went on.

“Someone promised him a reward. Look at his clothes. Those patches of different colors on it. That’s what poor families do to mend old clothes.” He pointed at the man’s coarse cloth garment.

The girl nodded again.

“So the person behind him gave him some silver, who knows how much, to test your identity. They want to know if you’re a cultivator.”

When he finished, enthusiastic applause broke out from the crowd. Even the wandering martial artists couldn’t help but clap. The analysis made perfect sense.

The stick-wielding man who had come to make trouble looked very embarrassed. He gathered his courage, tightened his grip on the stick, and assumed a fighting posture, but still didn’t dare to act.

It was impossible to determine whether she was an immortal or a demon through such a commoner. The person behind him must also be an ordinary person, with no clear understanding of humans, ghosts, immortals, or demons.

Finally, the commoner couldn’t bear the immense mental pressure. After being stared at by the girl’s golden eyes for a short while, he collapsed, knelt, and kowtowed, begging for mercy.

“Forgive me, immortal,” he said. His forehead was bleeding from the kowtow. Then he fled in disgrace.

It was a bitter sacrifice ploy. The girl did not pursue it, and the caravan leader did not let her. They continued on their way.

In this era, without righteous cultivators, even if demons and monsters walked through the county town, ordinary people couldn’t see through their identities. Any demon or monster could claim to be a cultivator after killing someone. The government had no real power against cultivators. They could denounce them verbally, but they couldn’t actually do anything. The cultivators’ level of martial power was too high.

The girl entered the bookshop. The other scholars dared not linger and fled. She began flipping through books as usual.

After a few flips, she sensed something off. The bookshop in Tianjin was different from others. Most of the books were novels. There was an older copy of *Water Margin*, which seemed to have been altered. She picked it up and read for a while. Then she put it down and looked at another book beside it, called *Records of the Northern Song*. She flipped through a few pages and, before she knew it, was absorbed in the book.

“Excuse me…” An old man appeared at the bookshop entrance, cupping his hands in greeting. “Could the immortal visit my residence? I am…”

He was a wealthy local gentleman of some reputation. The people around seemed to recognize him. When he arrived, they bowed slightly and greeted him with cupped hands. He returned the greeting. But his courtesy toward the girl was the most elaborate. He kept his hands cupped, bowed his head slightly, and waited for her response.

The girl didn’t know what to do. She thought for a moment, then looked at the caravan leader. The caravan leader was sweating. He also didn’t know what to do. He softly told her, “You decide for yourself. He wants to invite you to his home. He probably has a request.”

Upon hearing this, the wealthy old man at the bookshop entrance lowered his head further and raised his hands higher in another bow. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept enough.

The girl looked at the wealthy old man for a long time, from head to toe, as if she saw something. The old man felt a chill inside under the gaze of those golden eyes. Even when he served as an official and saw important figures in the capital, he had never been so nervous.

Finally, the girl nodded. At the entrance, there were three strange ‘little houses,’ only a bit larger than a person. The wealthy old man walked to one of them and gestured toward it, as if inviting her inside.

The caravan leader explained softly, “That’s a sedan chair. You sit inside.” The caravan leader also benefited, getting carried to the mansion in another sedan.

In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they arrived. Someone was waiting at the gate, apparently a female member of the household. She helped the old man down from his sedan. Then the old man went to greet the girl, helping her out of her sedan, stealing the caravan leader’s job.

The group passed through the gate and entered the mansion. Along the way, the caravan leader explained the situation to the girl. This wealthy old man was what the caravan leader had called a scholar-official, a class. He had some money and some power.

The wealthy old man’s family dressed very elegantly. Their clothes were made of the silk and satin the girl had read about in books. The styles were relatively ornate, with wide sleeves and long skirts, unsuited for labor. The colors were plain, mostly single or two-tone. But they were far inferior to the girl’s extravagant and flamboyant attire. The gap in their bearing was still enormous, clearly showing the difference between mortals and immortals.

He invited the girl and the caravan leader into the main hall. The wealthy old man didn’t dare sit in the host’s seat. Instead, he sat on the side, just like them.

The old man began with a simple opening, introducing himself again, then asked about the girl’s origins. The caravan leader answered for her, saying she came from distant Changbai Mountain.

The wealthy old man realized the girl didn’t like to talk, so he let the caravan leader answer. They chatted for a while, talking about past events on the road. The preliminaries were almost over, and they had shown enough courtesy.

The caravan leader didn’t much like this scholar-official routine either. He preferred the simple way of communicating like in Tianqiao Village. He could tell the old man was finally about to get to business. The old man changed the subject, mentioning strange happenings in Tianjin recently. For example, poultry had gone missing from people’s homes.

The caravan leader naturally didn’t know about these things, but he prompted the old man to continue. As he talked, the old man mentioned that horses and donkeys had disappeared from the city. In the past two years, many horses and donkeys had vanished. It was no longer just small poultry missing.

As he spoke, the old man unexpectedly started to cry. He tilted his head and wiped his tears with a handkerchief, then continued talking as if nothing had happened. Originally, when only poultry was missing, they reported it to the authorities. The officials investigated for a while but found nothing. Then came the disappearance of horses and donkeys. In the past year, over a dozen people had vanished and never returned.

At this point, the old man stopped again, pretended to drink tea, and couldn’t help wiping his tears. The caravan leader noted the disappearances. Another missing person case, somewhat similar to what happened in Tianqiao Village. He quietly asked the girl beside him, “Is it the dream-eating beast again?” The girl shook her head slightly, indicating she didn’t know yet.

📚 Also on NHV Novels

Reborn as the Villain’s Loyal Dog, Trapped in a Never-Ending Shura Field

Book TransmigrationModernsystem

Read Now →
Not interested