That one word—“brother”—made Gu Baiqing uncomfortable, but Mo Xuanli was becoming increasingly adept at saying it. Since Li Xiuran and the others’ rooms were right next door, Gu Baiqing had no choice but to respond.
He rose to wash, then ate the breakfast Mo Xuanli had prepared while listening to the results of their investigation from the previous night. Hearing that nothing suspicious was uncovered, Gu Baiqing sighed in relief. After all, in the original story Zhuo Ling had perished together with the demons. If it turned out he was already colluding with them, the plot would veer too far off course. Even if his own butterfly effect rippled, it shouldn’t have reached this far.
Just then, Li Xiuran’s voice sounded outside the door.
Mo Xuanli rose and went to open the door.
“Time to set out,” Li Xiuran said.
“We can leave already?” Mo Xuanli hesitated for a moment, but saw Li Xiuran give a firm nod.
Mo Xuanli immediately understood the underlying meaning. He knew Li Xiuran and Ji Chuling must have done something before deciding on this. So he nodded and said, “Alright, give us one more stick of incense’s time.”
“Your elder brother hasn’t woken yet?” Li Xiuran asked—aware of the drunkenness from last night, hence the question.
“No, he’s eating breakfast,” Mo Xuanli replied.
Li Xiuran was puzzled. Cultivators generally avoided grains and mortal food; even if they had cravings, they tried to eat as little as possible. Yet Mo Xuanli acted as if it were perfectly normal.
“Wow, it smells so good.”
Fine, Li Xiuran admitted—there was indeed another person fond of mortal food, forcing him to learn cooking, so he could make meals for her while traveling in the wild.
As Ji Chuling returned from outside the courtyard, Mo Xuanli asked, “Is Miss Ji hungry? The City Lord’s Manor should have food prepared; you can go and eat there…”
“Ah, I went to look—looked absolutely unappetizing. But the food in your room smells so good! I heard from the servants that you borrowed their kitchen. Are you good at cooking? Li Xiuran’s cooking isn’t very good, and he even says cultivators shouldn’t have cravings—how boring is that.” Ji Chuling spoke with innocent cheer.
Mo Xuanli smiled lightly. “I wandered for a long time when I was young. Knowing how to cook was better for survival.”
Ji Chuling looked at him with both sympathy and admiration, then said a little shyly, “Could I beg a bite to taste?” She ended with a playful smile, clearly thinking it wasn’t a big deal and he wouldn’t refuse. Without waiting for Mo Xuanli’s answer, she slipped into the room, intent on snatching a mouthful.
Mo Xuanli’s expression tightened. He turned and followed, not wanting others to—
But when he stepped in, the half-full table of food was already empty. Mo Xuanli stared in a daze at Gu Baiqing, whose cheeks were still bulging as he guiltily swallowed the last large mouthful.
“Just finished the last bite. If Miss Ji had come earlier, you could’ve had some.”
Something stirred in Mo Xuanli’s heart. He lowered his head and pressed his lips together in a faint smile.
Gu Baiqing, however, looked utterly embarrassed, nearly choking. His mind drifted back to a memory.
That time, passing through a town famous for pastries, Mo Xuanli had specially learned to make the Ten-Colored Cakes. But on the road, when a greedy child longed for one, Gu Baiqing casually gave him a piece. In that moment, he caught a strange, unnatural look on Mo Xuanli’s face.
The entire afternoon driving the carriage after that, Mo Xuanli hadn’t smiled once.
Later, only when Three Bean accidentally mentioned how difficult Ten-Colored Cakes were to make—that each piece required a different recipe and flavor—did Gu Baiqing realize Mo Xuanli had wanted him to taste every single one.
And so, Gu Baiqing developed the habit of eating them alone.
These were things made personally by his disciple, painstaking varieties of breakfast dishes, some even adjusted to his taste. How could he possibly share them with others?
A downcast Mo Xuanli was not something he wanted to see.
Ji Chuling, disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to taste Mo Xuanli’s cooking, lost all interest in breakfast and was led out by Li Xiuran.
Since Gu Baiqing had already finished eating early, he only needed a bit of tidying before heading out. But when he went to fasten up his hair, he found Morning Snow extremely uncooperative—no matter how he inserted it into his topknot, it kept falling out.
“What’s wrong?” He knew Morning Snow had spirituality, so it must be throwing a tantrum. Could it be he’d pressed down on it while sleeping last night?
“Master, let me.” Mo Xuanli, already ready, stepped forward.
Seeing Mo Xuanli about to tie up his hair, Gu Baiqing instinctively wanted to refuse.
But Morning Snow had already been taken from his hand.
“Morning Snow…” Gu Baiqing was about to say he could discipline it into obedience.
Then he saw Mo Xuanli holding Morning Snow, murmuring faintly, “Seems like it’s being disobedient. Maybe switch to God Nine Transformations instead?”
Gu Baiqing froze. Could God Nine Transformations even be used as a hairpin? No, even if it could, using his disciple’s natal sword as a hairpin was far too improper.
But just as Mo Xuanli spoke, God Nine Transformations on his wrist extended the tip of its little red cord, hooking a strand of Gu Baiqing’s hair as if impatient to try.
In an instant, Morning Snow spun into the air, slapped aside the red cord sharply, then streaked back into Gu Baiqing’s hair and fixed itself firmly in place—without him even moving a hand.
“What’s going on?” Gu Baiqing was dumbstruck.
Mo Xuanli chuckled. “Seems they’re just playing with us.”
Not long after, the four went to take leave of Lord Zhuo.
Lord Zhuo remained as courteous as ever, even arranging a carriage for their departure and personally seeing them off at the gates.
This made the group, who had once been suspicious of him, feel a bit ashamed.
Soon the carriage rolled northward, toward Star-Stepping City’s outskirts.
The wild spiritual vein lay to the north, in a cavern-like place. Since large-scale assaults could damage a vein’s spiritual energy, once a vein was discovered, one couldn’t violently enter or dismantle it with spells. Instead, they had to search for a proper entrance like mortals, then dig and develop it slowly. If the conditions were right, a sect could even be established upon it.
But to the common people of Star-Stepping City, it was nothing more than a mining site. Those stones only looked pretty to them, useless even for forging iron.
Arriving at the entrance, they alighted from the carriage and presented the travel pass. The guards there, usually idle, had clearly been instructed: pay the fee and go freely. Seeing someone with the City Lord’s pass, they accepted it respectfully and even asked warmly if laborers were needed.
Naturally, they didn’t. So the guards took the initiative to provide some digging tools.
They also offered a reminder:
“The City Lord told us not to meddle, so we haven’t. But earlier, some fierce-looking people came and seemed to set up barricades inside, giving others trouble. I saw quite a few come out injured—quite the commotion. But that has nothing to do with us here in Star-Stepping City. You all best be careful.”
Everyone had a rough idea—through this entrance, the competition inside was most likely among cultivators.
Though cultivators were bound by rules to avoid displaying spells before mortals, usually only the so-called righteous sects actually abided by them. The rest acted as they pleased. So in this period of time, the common folk of Star-Stepping City probably got to see quite a lot of “immortals.”
“Right, and also…” One of the older guards hesitated, then, seeing there was a pretty young lady in their group, finally stepped forward and said: “If you come across a stone statue in the middle of the path, don’t go near it. That thing… is no good.”
Mortals telling a group of cultivators that something was “ominous” usually wouldn’t be taken seriously—in fact, it would only stir curiosity.
Still, they thanked the guard for his good intentions and went on.
Through the makeshift entrance stretched a mountain path.
Sure enough, from afar they could see in the middle of the road a human-sized stone carving. Its upper half was covered by a faded red cloth, so only from the attire could one roughly tell it was a female statue. Judging by the wear, it had stood there for six or seven years.
“There really is a statue. I’m going to see what’s so ‘no good’ about it.” Ji Chuling at once quickened her pace.
Three Bean, being a cat, was naturally curious too, and hurried after her.
Just as Ji Chuling was about to reach out and lift the covering, a passerby shouted:
“Don’t—don’t let it see daylight! Bad things will happen!”
It turned out to be a hired local laborer, who turned pale at Ji Chuling’s action.
The cultivator leading the laborer only sneered when he heard this, about to say something, but when he turned and saw Ji Chuling’s beauty, he was instantly struck speechless.
“Don’t heed these mortals’ nonsense. If this young Daoist wishes to see, then see. I already probed it casually—this statue is harmless. It’s just a superstition for the locals’ peace of mind.” The male cultivator tried to act the part of a refined gentleman before Ji Chuling.
But the laborer wouldn’t play along—he grew frantic, begging and protesting, making the scene awkward.
Li Xiuran stepped forward to stop Ji Chuling. “Forget it. It’s their local custom. Best not to touch it.”
Ji Chuling too was startled, quickly letting the half-lifted cloth fall back down, not having glimpsed what lay beneath. Only Three Bean, crouching below, stared up in a daze.
The male cultivator, seeing that beside Ji Chuling there suddenly appeared another striking young man, immediately felt outdone. Irritated, he kicked the laborer aside. “Scram. You’re dismissed, unlucky wretch.”
He then strutted off, while the laborer, bitterly, could only leave—yet even in leaving, he kept as far as possible from the statue.
Such exaggerated behavior lent the statue an air of foreboding. Yet in truth, none of the four could sense anything wrong with it. If anything, it was that its color wasn’t quite right—stone should be whitish-gray, but this one had a faint dark-red sheen.
Ji Chuling suddenly frowned. “Why does this statue feel like it has a bloody smell?”
The others couldn’t smell anything. Li Xiuran said, “Perhaps some blood splattered on it by accident.”
“Really?” Ji Chuling asked doubtfully.
“A blood scent is normal. You young ones haven’t trained much, so you don’t know the ways of the common folk.”
A sudden voice rang out, and they saw a filthy, disheveled old man with matted hair, riding slowly on a dull-eyed spirit beast.
Everyone’s attention first went to the beast—an Ascending-Cloud Stork. Its combat strength was hard to gauge, but its stupidity was genuine, making it unsuitable as a battle companion. The species was nearly extinct. Who would actually use it as a mount? Wouldn’t it throw him off?
Gu Baiqing was especially stunned—because this so-called Ascending-Cloud Stork looked exactly like the modern-day shoebill stork. It hadn’t appeared in the original text at all, so seeing it now was eye-opening.
And by novel logic, a filthy, ragged, messy-haired old man usually hinted at some hidden master.
Though his cultivation seemed beneath even Golden Core, and his age was advanced, Gu Baiqing was sure he was no ordinary man. But… if a hidden master appeared, it should be tied to the protagonist’s plot. Why was this, again, different from the original?
“You mean you know something?” Ji Chuling, feeling underestimated, asked with displeasure.
The old cultivator chuckled. “When common folk feel a place is ominous, they often set down a suppressing statue. In making such a statue, they’ll pour on black dog’s blood to ward off evil. That’s why it has this color. To the locals, the statue absorbs foul things—so while they rely on it, they also regard it as inauspicious. Covering it with cloth means they believe it has lost its power, yet fear backlash, so they hide it from the sun until the evil energy dissipates on its own.”
Everyone nodded—so that was it.
Gu Baiqing himself hadn’t known this; after all, the original host rarely paid attention to folk customs. And the original text never mentioned such roadside details. He was more curious about this old cultivator.
“Inauspicious? But isn’t this a spirit vein? Even if mortals can’t use it, just staying near one should grant health, longevity, so many benefits.”
“First time seeing a wild spirit vein suddenly formed?” the old man asked with a smile.
The group nodded, but Mo Xuanli spoke up: “Some books mention that in places where spirit veins are forming, at first they can harm the surrounding environment. Perhaps that’s why the people of Star-Stepping City set up the statue.”
“Young friend knows quite a lot, eh?” The old man smiled at Mo Xuanli. “Indeed—this place gained a spirit vein through sudden favor of heaven and earth. But in that process, the vein absorbs the ambient essence of mountains and waters. Depending on conditions, the effects vary. Do you know why no great sect has mortals dwelling nearby? It’s because when a massive spirit vein is being born, everything within a hundred li withers—plants die, animals perish. Such an environment can’t sustain people. Only after it fully becomes a spirit vein does it turn into a fairyland, brimming with aura and spiritual flora. But that takes long ages of evolution. Yet here in Star-Stepping City, the common folk are still living well—so one can judge that…”
“The spirit vein here is ordinary?” Li Xiuran frowned. But the news he had heard was that there might be spirit crystals here—how could it be ordinary?
The old cultivator chuckled with narrowed eyes. “Ordinary or not, you’ll know once you go inside. After all, there are exceptions to everything. The one thing most beyond human guesswork is Heaven’s arrangement.”
Watching the old man’s air of mystery and fondness for such lofty words, Gu Baiqing was convinced this one was no common person. So when he noticed the old man’s gaze lingering again and again on Mo Xuanli, he didn’t find it strange—only thought, perhaps his disciple was about to have some kind of fateful encounter?
Having finished speaking, the old man rode his Ascending-Cloud Stork forward.
The four of them cast one last glance at the stone statue before leaving. Suddenly Gu Baiqing gave a low “hmm.” Mo Xuanli reacted instantly. “Brother, what’s wrong?”
“I suddenly remembered—in Xue Bin’s illusion, a passerby mentioned that during that time, life had been hard for them. Xue Bin’s marriage might bring some good fortune, ease the ill luck. Likely it was during that very period.”
“Did they?” Ji Chuling tried to recall.
Gu Baiqing nodded. Mo Xuanli added, “That would line up with the time when the statue appeared.”
“Meow…” Three Bean suddenly leapt onto Gu Baiqing’s shoulder.
“What is it, Three Bean?” Gu Baiqing asked.
Three Bean tilted his cat face, puzzled. “Why does the statue look a bit like the City Lord’s wife to me?”
