Chapter Thirteen: Wandering Among the Deep Clouds in Search of Immortals, Smiling at Life as Time Flows By

Qingsong saw the crowd gathering and grew larger by the moment. He could no longer care about the pain in his body, and hurriedly bent down to pick up the mud-stained green cloth bundle from the ground, clutching it tightly to his chest. He checked the bundle to ensure it remained intact, and only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. He had intended to open it for a closer look, but upon noticing the people around him, he immediately abandoned the idea. He understood, after all, the wisdom of not flaunting wealth.

Zhang Niankang cleared his throat softly, his refined and genteel smile returning to his face as he spoke to Qingsong, “Master Daoist, Mr. Jiang’s whereabouts are uncertain. I think we should make haste to visit him while we still can.”

Prompted by this, Qingsong did not linger further. Unconcerned by the bundle’s filth, he tucked it into his robes. He then turned to Zhang Niankang with gratitude, saying, “Thank you, Young Master Zhang, for your timely assistance!”

Zhang Niankang’s lips curled slightly at the words, and after accepting Qingsong’s bow, his demeanor remained as elegant as ever—a true gentleman. He spoke no more, but led Qingsong onward toward a certain place in the southern part of the city.

…

The short, thin man disappeared into the crowd, then wove his way through twisting lanes until he entered a narrow alley. Only when he confirmed he was alone did he finally relax. He pulled out the silver ingots, weighing them in his hand, and a satisfied grin spread across his face.

“The Zhang family is truly generous. With this fifty taels, it’s now five hundred and fifty taels altogether! Spending so much to hire me, Jiang Huai, just to steal a poor Daoist’s bundle?” he muttered to himself.

His curiosity grew, and unable to resist, he took out the bundle and opened it for inspection. Inside lay an old medicinal plant, its roots like dragon whiskers and flowers shaped like crescent moons, its entire body glowing white. It rested quietly within several layers of sealed wrapping.

“Moon Harmony Flower?” Jiang Huai exclaimed, his pupils contracting sharply. He quickly covered the bundle again and looked around, alert. He hadn’t expected the young Daoist’s bundle to contain such a treasure! This Moon Harmony Flower was already radiant and white—though not quite the jade hue of the century-old specimens, it was not far off. It could rightly be called a treasure medicine.

If word of this got out, even grandmasters would be unable to resist coming to snatch it. Jiang Huai’s expression shifted uncertainly. He was a notorious thief by trade—how could he not be tempted by such a treasure? Yet the power of the Zhang family made his greed waver. Treasure medicine was good, but one needed to be alive to enjoy it!

Just as he resolved to abandon the idea of keeping it for himself and planned to leave, a lazy, mocking voice sounded behind him.

“Interesting!”

Jiang Huai’s hair stood on end. He turned swiftly to look behind him. The previously empty alley now held a man in white robes, graceful and calm, watching him with a playful gaze. Jiang Huai’s heart filled with terror. When had this man appeared? How had he arrived so silently, like a ghost?

All signs indicated that this man would be difficult to deal with. Jiang Huai made a quick decision—he threw a handful of lime powder behind him and leapt toward the wall.

Page (1/3)

“Ha! How amusing!”

The man in white remained composed. He took from his robe a small jade scissors wrapped in red thread and snipped lightly at the air. It was as if he severed an invisible thread. Jiang Huai, still airborne, dropped abruptly to the ground like a kite with its string cut.

“Who are you? What witchcraft is this?” Jiang Huai lay on the ground, unable to move, his face contorted in terror.

The man in white walked over, retrieved the bundle from Jiang Huai’s robe, and teased, “You stole something meant to be gifted to me, and now you ask who I am? Remember my name! I am…”

As he spoke, his figure gradually faded before Jiang Huai’s astonished eyes.

“The Wandering Immortal of Suiyang, Jiang Liunian!”

And with those words, only a whisper remained, drifting away on the wind.

…

Southern city, Seeking Immortal Residence.

After winding through several alleys, the two finally arrived at a secluded courtyard. Zhang Niankang frowned as he surveyed the place, unable to discern anything special about it. Yet he had already acquired what he wanted and was eager to return to Jiang Huai for the medicine, so he had no patience to linger with Qingsong.

He was about to find an excuse to leave when the doors of Water Moon Residence opened slowly. Out skipped two rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed children who gestured invitingly to Qingsong.

“Master Daoist, our master requests your presence!”

The two children ignored Zhang Niankang completely, addressing Qingsong with utmost courtesy. Zhang Niankang’s expression darkened—he had never suffered such disregard since childhood! Who was this Mr. Jiang, so arrogant?

But now was not the time to make a scene, so he silently took note of the slight. Qingsong sensed the tension and was about to speak, but Zhang Niankang quickly resumed his genteel smile and, before Qingsong could respond, clasped his hands and said, “Master Daoist Qingsong, since the host here does not welcome Niankang, I shall not impose any longer. Tomorrow at the hour of the dragon, I will come to the Daoist Palace with my junior sister to pay respects to the esteemed masters!”

He had no desire to linger, so he simply took his leave.

“Wait, Young Master Zhang…”

Qingsong opened his mouth, watching Zhang Niankang’s hurried departure, his face twisted in a bitter smile. He felt utterly confused, as if the whole affair was muddled, but could only follow the two children into Seeking Immortal Residence.

The courtyard was small but exquisitely arranged. On the screen at the entrance, two lines of poetry were inscribed: “In the depths of clouds and mist, we seek immortals, laughing at the fleeting years of mortal life.”

Qingsong read them carefully and was entranced, murmuring, “Excellent verses!”

“Haha! You flatter us, Master Daoist! May I ask what brings you here in search of Jiang?”

From the main hall emerged a white-robed man, graceful and unrestrained, with a smile of easy confidence, addressing Qingsong.

Qingsong had met him once before and immediately recognized him, exclaiming joyfully, “Mr. Jiang!”

Jiang Liunian led Qingsong to the pavilion, where the two children poured tea for them. He asked, “Who was the man accompanying you just now?”

Page (2/3)

Qingsong replied promptly, “Mr. Jiang, that is Young Master of the Zhang family from Jinhua Prefecture. He is humble and courteous, with a kind heart. Were it not for his help, I would not have found your residence!”

His words brimmed with gratitude and affection for Zhang Niankang. Jiang Liunian smiled and shook his head, saying nothing, then invited Qingsong to state his purpose.

Qingsong recounted the haunting in the mountains in broad strokes. At the end, he took out the cloth bundle from his robe and opened it, saying, “This fifty-year-old Moon Harmony Flower is meant as your reward for helping us!”

But when he opened the bundle, he was dumbstruck. Inside lay only a handful of dried grass—there was no trace of the Moon Harmony Flower.

“How…how could this be?”

Qingsong’s face turned crimson, his speech faltering.

“Haha! Look here—is this the Moon Harmony Flower you lost?”

Jiang Liunian shook his head with a smile, producing the bundle he had retrieved from Jiang Huai and handing it to Qingsong.

Qingsong opened it and saw inside the very treasure medicine entrusted to him by the temple master. His mind was now a complete muddle, as if filled with paste.

Jiang Liunian smiled gently and said, “Young Master Daoist, as the saying goes, one knows a face but not a heart. In this world of dust, deception is everywhere…”

He then recounted all he had witnessed to Qingsong. As for whether this would offend the Zhang family? Jiang Liunian had never cared much for the worldly powers of great families.

Qingsong, after hearing it all, was first incredulous, then thoughtful as he pondered it carefully, finally understanding and wearing a bitter expression.

Jiang Liunian sipped his tea and spoke slowly, “A fifty-year-old Moon Harmony Flower is indeed an old medicine, but to me it is no different from any ordinary specimen. Only those over a hundred years, imbued with the spirit of heaven and earth, can heal my injuries. So, take this old medicine back with you.”

In truth, even a century-old Moon Harmony Flower could not fully cure his wounds. Only the legendary celestial elixirs could heal the injuries caused by frequent use of Daoist arts that depleted his vital essence.

Jiang Liunian’s gaze grew distant, a silent sigh rising in his heart. The lack of spiritual energy in the world meant that some Daoist arts could only be performed by draining one’s essence. By the time he realized this, his lifespan was nearly exhausted.

Fortunately, he had recently heard that during the Songyuan Festival in Jinzhou, fellow practitioners would gather to trade Daoist arts and rare medicines. He had traveled far for this chance, hoping to acquire some miraculous elixirs. Exchanging for the Moon Harmony Flower from Chisong Daoist Temple was merely incidental.

Qingsong, seeing Jiang Liunian refuse, grew anxious. “Mr. Jiang, please help us! The matter of the medicine can be discussed further!”

Jiang Liunian returned from his reverie, smiling, “Don’t worry, young master. I never said I wouldn’t help. Your sect’s Master Song Crane once saved an entire city single-handedly—I have great admiration for him, though I’ve never had the fortune to meet him.”

After a brief pause, he continued, “Very well! Since the Songyuan Festival is still a few days away, I’ll accompany you for now.”

Page (3/3)