Chapter 638: Qingcheng Loses Shu

Chapter 638: Qingcheng Loses Shu

2When the linesChapter638: Qingcheng Loses Shu

When the first drop of icy winter rain fell from the sky, Chengdu Prefecture, located in the southwestern realm of the Great Ming Empire, finally began to awaken.

Under the nightfall, lights gradually brightened, yet they lacked the dazzling splendor of years past.

In the sparse projections, the once towering Daoist of Qingcheng Mountain, as immense as a divine apparition, had vanished without a trace.

Even the advertisements put out by the Imperial Music Bureau had donned proper attire, their demeanor dignified, devoid of any alluring charm.

“The cost of a night’s union: ten thousand natural, three thousand synthetic. A millet‑rice dream requires only a hundred Great Ming treasure notes.”

The promotional slogan hovering beside the new courtesan had not only risen in price; even the enormous “play” character, once etched deepest in Li Jun’s memory, had shrunk to near invisibility, indiscernible without close scrutiny.

Chengdu Prefecture remained Chengdu Prefecture, merely shifting from heavy makeup to understated elegance.

On the streets, a sea of umbrellas formed a flowing river; Li Jun stood within it, gazing ahead at a scene both familiar and strange.

Three days prior, after a lengthy discussion with Zhao Qingxia, Li Jun concluded that further seclusion would yield no new gains, and thus departed from the eastern branch institute in Shandong Prefecture.

The ever‑restless Zou Jiujiu, upon hearing Li Jun’s plan to go to Chengdu, clung insistently, insisting on accompanying him to witness the place where Li Gejun had once made his name.

“Old Li, is this the chicken‑and‑goose district you mentioned before? It’s not as chaotic as you described.”

Zou Jiujiu curiously surveyed his surroundings; before him lay a prosperous, harmonious vista, with fully armed Tianfu Garrison patrols stationed at every corner, weapons at the ready, eyes scanning passersby.

“It wasn’t like this when I was here.”

Li Jun replied offhandedly and stepped forward to lead the way.

The three main thoroughfares of the Chicken‑and‑Goose District retained their old “two horizontal, one vertical” layout: Gui Street ran vertically, while Sinmin and Jiulong Streets ran horizontally, besides numerous narrow alleys as fine as cow hair.

Li Jun led Zou Jiujiu through them, gradually drifting away from the orderly main arteries.

As the silhouettes of the Tianfu Garrison faded, Li Jun’s familiar bustle began to reappear.

Without the bright neon signs, the dimly lit alleys teemed with vendors, the crowds so dense they seemed impervious to even a splash of water.

Yet this posed no hindrance to Li Jun and Zou Jiujiu; wherever they went, the throng naturally parted to make a path.

For Zou Jiujiu’s first visit to Gui Street, his eyes continually swept over piles of assorted goods, and he intermittently clicked his tongue.

Mechanical prosthetics and cerebral neural apertures—common contraband—needed no elaboration; what truly astonished him were the abundant wisdom roots and dao foundations. Not only were they astonishingly cheap, but their quality was uniformly excellent, clearly not the shoddy imitations of petty temples.

In former times, such grade of dao foundations and wisdom roots could never appear here; they would only be found in the hands of deep‑pocketed black‑market dealers.

Moreover, the whole transaction would be conducted in utmost secrecy, lest the originating sect or temple discover the goods and stir trouble; certainly not like now, where they sit loosely in vats, as free for selection as cabbages.

Besides, Zou Jiujiu saw numerous stacks of Six Arts chips and discarded war‑sequence cores tossed into freezer boxes.

Their quality was somewhat inferior to that of the Buddhist and Daoist schools, yet the price remained far below Zou Jiujiu’s expectation; no longer the scarce, costly treasures of old, an ordinary family could grit their teeth, spend a few years’ savings, and acquire a decent entry‑level foundation.

This scene gave Zou Jiujiu the feeling that the hierarchies in Chengdu were no longer lofty, unattainable ideals, but something a commoner could reach by merely tiptoeing.

“Damn it, where are these vendors getting all this good stuff from?”

Unlike Zou Jiujiu’s startled reaction, Li Jun furrowed his brow, his expression grave.

Having once been a rogue in Chengdu’s underworld, he naturally knew these street affairs well.

The dao foundations, wisdom roots, Six Arts chips, and war‑sequence cores laid out on the stalls were, to his eyes, nothing but lively corpses.

To drive black‑market prices down to such an ice‑point proved that, over this period, many of those lineages must have perished.

Moreover, what lay before him was merely the tip of the iceberg of the southwest’s black‑market trade; a single leaf heralds the fall, suggesting the empire’s covert conflicts were far fiercer than he imagined.

Besides, Li Jun noticed something odd: the surrounding patrons’ buying enthusiasm was not particularly strong.

The long lane was clearly packed with people, yet most seemed merely there for the spectacle, crouching to rummage and pick, then leaving before the vendor even quoted a price.

It seemed, in their eyes, joining the sequence now was not a favorable prospect.

“Sir, sir, please wait.”

A vendor sprang up, outright ignoring the ruggedly dressed Li Jun, stepping before the suit‑clad Zou Jiujiu, clasping his hands and bowing with a fawning smile: “If I’m not mistaken, sir, this must be your first visit to the Chicken‑and‑Goose District?”

Zou Jiujiu glanced at Li Jun, cleared his throat, and asked, “How did you tell?”

“We traders rely on these eyes. Though my vision here is mediocre—I’m famed for honesty, practically blind—I cannot help but be struck by your extraordinary aura, like the bright sun amid fireflies, utterly out of place in Gui Street; I could hardly fail to notice.”

“That mouth sure can talk.”

Zou Jiujiu laughed heartily and asked, “So what’s the meaning of you blocking me?” “Judging by your attire, you must have just returned from those foreign barbarian lands, right?”

Zou Jiujiu glanced down at his own garb and gave a neutral “hmm.”

“Those places may be backward, but I’ve heard they’re paved with gold; seeing you, I can tell you’re one of those with connections who made a fortune from the barbarians—this regal bearing of yours, tsk tsk, is truly imposing!”

The shifty‑eyed vendor continued his effusive flattery of Zou Jiujiu.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I merely mean that while the foreign lands offer many money‑making opportunities, they are also perilous places overrun by heretical evils, and earning there is no easy feat.”

The vendor, adopting a humble stance, said, “If you’re interested, my stall has everything you could want—absolutely good quality at low prices, honest to all, guaranteeing every penny you spend is worth it.”

“Ah, that’s what you meant.”

Zou Jiujiu feigned realization, gesturing to the surrounding stalls: “But I see these folks’ wares are also decent and not expensive; why must I buy from you?”

“You don’t know this, but the goods they sell—had they been offered a few years ago, they’d undoubtedly be rare, sought‑after treasures. Yet now the times have changed; what you see are merely junk sold to ordinary folk, hardly befitting your stature.”

“Is this still junk?”

Zou Jiujiu exclaimed in shock, his astonishment vividly portrayed.

“You must have only recently returned to the imperial heartland; it’s clear you’re not yet versed in the current state of the empire.”

The vendor lowered his voice: “These days are unsettled. First, the empire’s Grand Secretary Zhang revealed the myriad crimes of Longhu Mountain, demanding the current Celestial Master Zhang come to the capital to atone. Instead, he declared himself a Guardian of the Nation, vowing to uphold the late emperor’s legacy, purge the court, and eliminate treacherous ministers. The two sides exchanged barbs for a while, tearing apart any pretense of civility and heading straight into open conflict.”

“Isn’t it normal for those two to squabble? When I left the empire I often heard such talk, yet never saw anyone actually come to blows.”

Zou Jiujiu’s eyes were wide with innocence, feigning ignorance of the vendor’s concealed contempt and disdain.

“Times have changed; this time they’re really serious.”

The vendor explained: “You know Qingcheng Mountain in Chengdu Prefecture, right? It’s one of the ‘Four Mountains and One Palace,’ a major Daoist power dominating the empire’s southwest, to the extent that local officials must heed the Daoists’ faces to survive. Yet not long ago, Qingcheng Mountain suddenly announced it would relocate its sect, summoning all disciples and believers to march to Longhu Mountain.”

“Relocate? How could that be?”

Zou Jiujiu felt a tug, smirking: “Qingcheng Mountain has taken root in the empire’s southwest for at least several centuries, if not millennia; to abandon its land and then go grovel at Longhu Mountain?”

“We don’t believe it either, but the facts are exactly so.”

The vendor continued: “And on the very day Qingcheng Mountain set out to move, I happened to be at home indulging in a dream, not even having taken off my pants, when I felt a sudden earth‑shaking tremor; I scrambled on hands and feet toward the door. Guess what happened?”

“Did the earth dragon turn over?”

“No.”

The vendor’s eyes flashed with lingering fear: “It was high noon, after all—bright sunshine suddenly turned to black sky, stars blazing painfully bright, thunder falling like rain, crack after crack striking Qingcheng’s territory. It lasted perhaps two or three hours before the light returned.”

“It is said that Qingcheng Mountain was besieged that day; even the summit was sheared flat by lightning strikes, and the casualties—needless to say—lay strewn from foot to peak, corpses everywhere, a sight too horrid to behold.”

The vendor gestured subtly toward the goods on the neighboring stall: “What you see here are all stripped from corpses; otherwise how could there be such abundance and such low prices? Merely, their provenance is dubious, and they carry ill fortune—using them invites bad luck.”

Zou Jiujiu curled his lip, covering his nose and mouth in disgust, as if he’d caught a whiff of that choking blood‑stained air.

“So today I dared to block you, sir, simply because I couldn’t bear to see you deceived. You don’t know that Gui Street’s vendors are all sharp‑eyed and ruthless, loving to fleece clueless wealthy outsiders like you. I’m different—if you truly wish to buy, I still have some choice items tucked away, absolutely clean, priced right, and guaranteed to satisfy you.”

The vendor glanced cautiously left and right, then chuckled softly: 'Besides, settling here is convenient—I accept the court's treasure notes, and also the immortal currency of Longhu Mountain. Even the Chu bonds of the Honghu would do, though there's a tiny conversion difference; mainly, it's whatever suits you, I'm fine with that.'

Zou Jiujiu's face finally showed a belated wariness: 'Why should I trust you?'

'I'm sincere but blind,' he said, 'I couldn't possibly deceive anyone.'

The vendor hurriedly squeezed out a sincere smile, blinking his eyes: 'Look at these eyeballs of mine—how blind, how pure. If it weren't for my ancestors constantly teaching me that business must be built on honesty, how could I possibly reveal so much to you, sir?'

'That's true enough.'

Zou Jiujiu and Li Jun exchanged a glance, then continued: 'Do you know who's besieging Qingcheng Mountain?'

'This humble one doesn't know.'

The vendor rubbed his hands: 'Besides, this isn't something we ought to worry about. The key now is that you sincerely buy, and I sincerely sell—right?'

'Ah, that works.'

Zou Jiujiu pulled a crumpled treasure note from his trouser pocket and handed it over.

'Your information is good—take it.'

'What do you mean, boss?'

The vendor's smile froze at the corners: 'I'm not selling information, you see, and this little money—'

'It's too little,' he said, 'but I really have nothing else on me.'

Zou Jiujiu tilted his head and laughed: 'How about this—I'll give you two nights of sweet dreams, and we'll call it even?'

'Giving dreams? Who do you think you are, the Duke of Zhou?'

The vendor spat disdainfully, and the mocking glances of his fellow stall‑makers made him feel utterly ashamed.

'I thought I'd snagged a fat sheep, but it turned out to be a bare‑assed barbarian in a savage's skin, leaving me embarrassed for nothing.'

'My handsomeness is one‑of‑a‑kind; you're just a country bumpkin, clueless as a hammer.'

Zou Jiujiu glanced askance; having spent a few years in Chongqing Prefecture, he slipped into a perfect Sichuan accent.

'Hey, didn't expect you to be a local kid.'

The vendor laughed in fury: 'Listen, I'm telling you straight—you've stepped into big trouble today. Either fork out every coin you have, or I'll personally drag this barbarian brat back to your miserable hole to pick cotton like those Kunlun slaves!'

'Old Li, your fellow villagers really know how to curse filthily.'

Zou Jiujiu turned his gaze to Li Jun, and the vendor followed his stare.

'And what sort of goods are you?'

The vendor looked Li Jun up and down: 'Do you even know what kind of place this is? I advise you, kid, don't stick your neck out—if you're smart, you'll scram!'

Li Jun glanced at the crowd gathering around, his eyes full of nostalgia, half‑smiling: 'Looks like Ghost Street is still the Ghost Street I know.'

'You're pretending—'

The vendor's eyes narrowed; before his taunt could finish, a sudden chill like a raging flood beast crept over him.

In an instant, the whole alley filled with figures clutching their livers and guts in anguish.

Chengdu Prefecture, the governor's office.

The square table that used to sit in the courtyard had been moved under the eaves; rain pattered on the green tiles, water dripping from the eaves.

In a bronze cauldron the broth boiled, sending fragrant steam everywhere.

Alone, Pei Xunjian sat on a bench facing the open gate of the office, his hands tucked into his sleeves, eyes half‑closed as if dozing.

'Again hot pot? Governor Pei, don't you ever get tired of it?'

'Having something to eat is fine enough—you've only just had a few good days, and already you're picking on this?'

Pei Xunjian slowly lifted his gaze toward Li Jun and Zou Jiujiu striding in, his eyes calm, as if he'd been waiting for them.

Li Jun took his seat openly, finding it no surprise that, despite never having contacted him beforehand, the other seemed to already know of his arrival in the city.

If he lacked even this bit of ability, the one moving house wouldn't be Qingcheng Mountain, but Pei Xunjian himself.

'It's rare to come back—why not go straight to the governor's office to find me, instead of bullying those miserable black‑market peddlers?'

'I didn't bully them,' he said, 'quite the opposite—we're the victims.'

While they talked, Zou Jiujiu didn't hold back, snatched up his chopsticks and began to eat heartily.

Pei Xunjian glanced at the dishes disappearing quickly from the table, frowned, and asked: 'Shall we eat first, or talk first?'

'He eats, we talk.'

Li Jun laughed: 'If you feel bad about it, Governor, we can eat first and then talk.'

'Forget it—host follows guest, you decide.'

Pei Xunjian sighed, seemingly idly pushing a plate of fresh tripe away from Zou Jiujiu, then placed three wine cups in the cleared space.

'Li Jun, you've come to me of your own accord this time—what do you want to discuss?'

Li Jun got straight to the point: 'I want to know what Chief Minister Zhang plans to do next.'

Pei Xunjian's hand, which had been pouring wine, jerked suddenly; a few drops spilled over the rim of the cup.

'How rare—you actually care about this sort of thing?'

'Besides, one can't stay out of it; rather than wait to be dragged down, it's better to plan ahead.'

Li Jun lifted a wine cup and set it before each of them, speaking as he did so.

'True enough, but you shouldn't be asking me this—I've never gotten along with Zhang Fengyue, didn't you know?'

Li Jun raised his cup and drained it in one gulp: 'Of course I knew; even before entering the city I thought the same, so I originally just planned to stop by for a meal, see if I could do something to help you, Governor, to repay your kindness. But after hearing the news of Qingcheng Mountain's withdrawal, I suddenly didn't feel that way anymore.'

'The Qingcheng Mountain affair has nothing to do with me—I'm a cultured man who studies the rites, I can't beat that bull‑nosed Daoist Liang Gongming.'

'That's reasonable, but under these circumstances, if you can still hold the governor's seat in Chengdu, then you must be involved.'

Pei Xunjian stared fixedly at Li Jun opposite him, then suddenly laughed: 'When did you, a warrior, start using your brains?'

'I've gotten used to it—this had better be eaten first.'

Zou Jiujiu's voice cut in abruptly: he was seen ladling out the pig's brains from the bottom of the pot with a strainer.

'Otherwise, if you boil it too long it won't taste good.'

The words trailed off; Pei Xunjian regarded the two with interest.

'Wouldn't it be better to stay in the east courtyard and watch the play? With your present strength, if you truly made up your mind not to get involved, who could drag you in?'

'Governor Pei, you should know my style—I won't rest until I've settled the score, otherwise I can't even swallow my rice.'

Li Jun laughed: 'I came today just to find out—are you really simmering a pot of pig brains, or are you actually planning to scald dragon liver and eat tiger meat?'