Chapter 35: The General’s Return and the Daoist’s Dilemma

“Simply carve according to these water marks; do not concern yourself with anything beyond that.”

“Ah, so a statue of a martial general is what you desire.”

Originally, Song Ming had intended for the stonemason to work in his own courtyard.

Yet, after weighing the options, he concluded that the time saved by moving the stone blank and the tabletop would be negligible. Thus, he simply instructed his servants to take his personal tabletop to the stonemason’s workshop.

The individual had merely sketched with a casual hand, failing to consider the inherent difficulty in relocating such a substantial stone table.

The stonemason squinted, his gaze lingering for a considerable time before shifting to the two constables.

“Sirs, by when is this statue required?”

“The sooner, the better.”

“If it can be carved before tomorrow, that would be even better.”

These words sent a jolt through him, and he hastily waved his hands in refusal.

“Impossible, absolutely impossible! You demand a six-foot statue, not some minor bauble. To carve such a piece, even if I worked tirelessly, would require a minimum of two weeks. How can you possibly ask for it by tomorrow?”

“Just carve it, what’s with all the talk?”

One of the constables, growing visibly impatient, retorted:

“Precisely. Simply begin the carving. Should you be unable to complete it, we shall report the circumstances truthfully, and Master Song will assuredly not hold you accountable.”

The more astute constable then adopted a conciliatory tone. Faced with their determined posture, the stonemason dared not refuse, and so, with a sigh, he retrieved his tools and slowly commenced his work.

Yet, as his chisel met stone, stroke after laborious stroke…

The water marks themselves, however, seemed to grow more divinely martial with each passing moment. Though undeniably wet and prone to evaporation under a mere breeze, they clung to the stone, refusing to dissipate.

“Strange… truly strange… why don’t I feel tired?”

The stonemason murmured, his chisel descending with renewed vigor. A subtle gleam of golden light flickered from within the water marks, instantly purging the malevolent energy from his form, leaving him feeling a hundred times lighter, his mind utterly lucid.

***

Meanwhile, beyond the town’s borders.

Wild grasses sprawled across the earth, veiled by the deep shadows of trees, as if this place had been utterly forsaken by the mortal realm.

The Earth God paced as was his custom before General Song’s statue, sighing deeply and brimming with sorrow. His lamentations were so profound that the Pallas’s Cat covered its ears with its tiny paws, curling into a tight ball.

Just as the little Pallas’s Cat reached the limits of its endurance, contemplating a swift escape from the temple in search of amusement, the divine statue’s spiritual essence flickered, appearing to strengthen by a noticeable degree.

She rubbed her eyes, then, in disbelief, swept her tail around her surroundings.

“Old man! Look at the Mountain God’s spirit!”

“Quiet, quiet, what’s all this fuss about?”

The Earth God, already mired in gloom, found the Pallas’s Cat’s clamor even more irritating. He shuffled over, leaning heavily on his staff.

What spirit of the Mountain God? Was General Song truly on the verge of revival?

He squinted, casting a dismissive glance at the statue, and let out yet another sigh.

Alas, the divine radiance remained faint, merely strengthening by the barest thread at most…

“Hm?”

“Oh my, General Song!”

He frantically summoned every ounce of his lifelong power to cast a protective spell, enveloping the surroundings, vigilantly guarding this nascent thread of true spirit that now seemed to be steadily expanding.

“Old man, what’s the verdict?”

“Stop chattering!”

He barked another sharp command at the Pallas’s Cat. Only after observing that General Song still evinced no intention of awakening did the Earth God finally wipe the sweat from his brow and settle down.

“You old geezer, can’t you understand human speech?”

The Pallas’s Cat felt a surge of annoyance, having been gratuitously chided by the old man no less than three times that day.

“I understand, I understand!”

The diminutive old man chuckled, his eyes welling with cloudy tears that spattered onto the dusty ground.

“Why are you crying now?”

“I weep for this world!”

“I don’t understand you.”

Witnessing his alternating fits of tears and laughter, the Pallas’s Cat felt a shiver of unease. It swiftly padded back to the sanctuary of its small nest.

The Earth God gazed at the steadily burgeoning spirit, a profound sense of relief washing over his heart. Perhaps, after a little more time, this old man could finally dissolve into dust.

“General Song! You’ve finally returned!”

***

Elsewhere, within the secluded back courtyard of the Qin family manor.

Qin Si lay prostrate beneath the pavilion. The intricately carved beams, painted pillars, soaring eaves, and interlocking brackets—all undeniably belonging to his household—now seemed to mock their master from their lofty perch.

“Tell me, why did you even bother to return?”

Daoist Feng (TL Note: A title for a Daoist priest or practitioner, often implying a degree of respect or mastery) was not engaged in chess today. The tabletop, which had once held a chessboard, had inexplicably split into two, scattering black and white pieces across the ground.

“I… this humble one dared not fail to return…”

“How loyal.”

The Daoist spoke with an unnerving blandness, then stretched out a hand to seize Qin Si’s soul.

With another swirling puff of black smoke from his lips, a figure riddled with blade scars (TL Note: an individual bearing numerous cuts and gashes from bladed weapons) materialized blankly in Qin Si’s stead.

He found himself utterly unable to gauge the true capabilities of that green-robed girl.

His operations had been meticulously clean, so much so that even the cultivators from Zìmíng Shān, who often frequented this area, had failed to uncover even the slightest trace of his presence.

With arduous effort, he had finally managed to ‘replace the plum with a peach’, thereby usurping the Qin family’s mortal standing.

He was also on the cusp of successfully inciting malicious rumors to drive the Yang family to ruin. He harbored no desire to abandon his plans at this critical juncture.

Twice he had narrowly avoided being traced back to his true form by that individual, and now he dared not launch an overt investigation into their machinations.

He harbored the chilling suspicion that every location was merely bait, awaiting his inevitable bite.

Despite the tacit approval he had received from those higher up, he questioned why someone was still meddling in his affairs.

“Qin Lu.”

After a prolonged period of contemplation, Daoist Feng finally spoke, his voice measured.

“You, who have seen countless battlefields, tell me: how should this game of chess be played now?”

Qin Lu, having only just revived, his mind still a swirling chaos, heard Daoist Feng’s words and responded with an offhand remark: “What kind of paltry chess? If I were merely to hack my way through with a single blade stroke, wouldn’t that be far more exhilarating?”

“Hack through it?”

Daoist Feng murmured, then with a flick of his wrist, he summoned the wind to lift the chessboard and its scattered pieces. He truly wished to avoid escalating the situation.

“Play a few more moves?”

Yet, having only just glimpsed the dawn of his success, having finally perceived an opportunity to contend, he found himself utterly unwilling to flee precipitously once more.

***

Faint Moon Tower.

“Little Girl, stop jumping around so wildly!”

Qíngyǔ called out, her voice laced with exasperation, yet Little Girl continued her joyous play, heedless of the warning.

“Mama! Are we staying here tonight?”

“Yes, we’ll stay here tonight.”

By the time all arrangements were settled, dusk had already fallen. Song Ming, therefore, simply secured rooms for them at the Faint Moon Tower, instructing them to settle in for the night.

“Such soft blankets!”

The girl delightedly swaddled herself into a small, cozy ball, only her tiny head peeking out as she gazed at her mother, her large eyes sparkling, her brows curving in a joyful arc.

“We’ll be going down to eat soon, so don’t get into bed yet.”

“Mmm… but it’s so soft!”

The amenities of the inn’s so-called ‘first-class superior room’ were, in truth, far superior to those of their humble courtyard. Qíngyǔ lamented her insufficient household funds, which precluded her from acquiring a similar set of comforts for Little Girl to take back home.

“Then you stay in the room for a while; I’ll go down and get the meal.”

And while I’m at it, I must also investigate any potential schemes the demonic entity might have set in motion.

Truth be told, the Faint Moon Tower certainly lived up to its illustrious reputation. Upon their arrival, Qíngyǔ could distinctly perceive a subtle spiritual aura emanating from a particular corner within its walls.

This innate quality prevented any significant accumulation of demonic energy within its confines.

Perhaps this very place was indeed a gathering spot for immortals before the ‘Heavenly War’ (TL Note: A significant, possibly ancient, conflict involving celestial or powerful beings).

“No!”

Upon hearing her mother’s intention to go downstairs alone, Little Girl immediately voiced her opposition.

“If you refuse to go, and you refuse to let me go, are we to starve here?”

With a feigned scowl, Qíngyǔ reached out to playfully flick Little Girl’s dainty nose, then settled onto the edge of the bed.

“Mmm… then tell them to deliver it to the door!”

“Some things are better done by oneself.”

“Mama is mean!”

Little Girl rolled twice within her blanket, then pouted with a few more words of complaint, before finally, reluctantly, leaving the comfortable bed.

“You little lazybones.”

Qíngyǔ was amused by her daughter’s antics.

“I’m not lazy! I’m trying very hard to cultivate, you know?”

“Oh? Then tell me, what level have you reached now?”

At that moment, Little Girl’s cultivation, no longer concealed, was revealed to be at the early stage of Qi Condensation!

Displaying her modest cultivation with a bright giggle, the girl threw herself into her mother’s embrace.

“Not bad.”

In truth, Qíngyǔ herself didn’t fully grasp her daughter’s exact realm, merely discerning a faint spiritual essence.

“And how about your ‘Seeking Wind’ cultivation?”

“Mmm… about that…”

Little Girl’s smile faltered, and she blinked her eyes, pretending not to have heard the question.

“It’s alright, there’s no need to rush with this.”

There were no shortcuts in the art of cultivating intent; it was merely a matter of diligent, consistent effort, accumulating day by day.

Qíngyǔ helped her restless little feet into socks.

Her daughter’s innate talent must be exceptional; otherwise, Zì Bùxiàn would not have been so eager to take her as a disciple.

Ultimately, it was her own method of secluded cultivation that had hindered Little Girl. Had she agreed to accept the apprenticeship then, her daughter’s cultivation might have advanced even further by now.

She still needed to find a way to acquire some cultivation resources from this world.