Chen Changsheng spent some days studying this formation array.
While Mo Yu made it sound simple, it wasn’t easy to learn it from scratch.
Cloudtop Manor was situated high in the sky, making it exceptionally quiet. Thanks to that, Chen Changsheng wasn’t disturbed by the outside world and could focus entirely on his studies.
Within three days, he saw initial progress.
Without needing a Divine Decree, Chen Changsheng could now use the formation flags to set up a small Spirit Gathering Array.
Having reached this level, Chen Changsheng didn’t delve further.
When he was dead, he’d have plenty of time for research.
Urgent matters were more important; he couldn’t waste these hard-won days.
Chen Changsheng found a tree within Cloudtop Manor and hung the flowers that imprisoned the evil spirits on it.
Manyue, naturally, stayed behind.
She would watch over them for Chen Changsheng and help ‘tend’ to the flowers. She didn’t complain. Here with Chen Changsheng, she had gained quite a bit.
“Are you leaving again?” Manyue asked.
Chen Changsheng said, “Not enough flowers.”
Manyue looked at him and said, “Don’t get too caught up in this thing. The Netherworld Mansion isn’t something you can just make happen easily.”
“I know my limits,” Chen Changsheng replied.
Seeing she couldn’t dissuade him, Manyue said no more.
Chen Changsheng set up another Killing Formation outside Cloudtop Manor. It took some effort, and the first attempt went wrong, destroying two formation flags.
Mo Yu was a little annoyed. “I’ve got no more formation flags left,” he said. “If you need to use more, you’ll have to buy them in the Cultivation World. There are places that specialize in selling formation flags.”
“So formation flags are basically expendable…”
“Pretty much. Making them isn’t hard, just time-consuming and laborious. So, most people buy them. The same goes for talismans.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“…”
Mo Yu looked at him. He’d heard that “thank you” more times than he could count, but never saw anything concrete come of it.
The Tabby Cat peeked out from behind Mo Yu. “Good Human Chen,” it asked, “are you going out to play?”
Chen Changsheng nodded. “It would be nice if it was really just playing.”
The Tabby Cat did a little bounce. “Take me with you!”
Chen Changsheng shook his head. “Lihua, you could fall and die.”
“Hmph!” The Tabby Cat was startled. “I’m not that weak! I’m a monster, after all.”
“When you become as strong as Mo Yu is, I’ll take you out to play.”
“Ohh…” The Tabby Cat thought for a moment, raising its furry brows. “So you actually don’t want to take Lihua out to play?”
“What nonsense,” Chen Changsheng said.
The Tabby Cat gave a light snort. “Fine. Lihua won’t go. Lihua will stay here and keep Mo Yu company.”
Chen Changsheng smiled faintly and nodded. “I’ll be back in some days. Please watch over Cloudtop Manor.”
Mo Yu lazily waved a paw before going back to sleep.
The Tabby Cat didn’t seem to hear; it had scampered off to chase insects again.
Chen Changsheng chuckled wryly, thinking it would be better to tell Miss Manyue next time.
After leaving Cloudtop Manor, Chen Changsheng plunged into the Cultivation World.
He had much to do now.
Wherever Evil Spirits surfaced, he had to go there.
There would be no peace.
…
For Chen Changsheng, the years he lived weren’t so easily dismissed. Perhaps it was just the countless dead years that made it seem that way.
But to those who knew Chen Changsheng, passing another three years felt like no time to him at all – just a snap of his fingers.
Another year of Huai Xu had arrived in Qingshan City.
Now, Green Mountain remained endlessly verdant, tranquil and peaceful, unchanged from before.
Tang Family Teahouse was still packed and buzzing.
Master Cao’s storytelling had gotten even better, largely thanks to the stories Third Master Jin kept sending back.
Over the years, Third Master Jin’s writing had improved, gaining the flair of a master storyteller, while his tales became more amazing.
But Master Cao grew increasingly worried. Third Master Jin’s stories were becoming perilous, and lately, they lacked specific opening dates. Master Cao couldn’t tell which were true and which were fabrications.
Cao Fa secretly hoped he wouldn’t receive another letter from Third Master Jin, yet feared he might never hear from him again.
As the years passed, Manager Zhuang’s hair had turned completely white. His health weakened each year, he spent less time accounting, and lately seemed to be looking for someone to take over.
At the back of the teahouse, a woman in a pale cyan dress sat listening to Master Cao. This woman was the proprietress of Tang Family Teahouse.
Manager Zhuang stood quietly beside her.
“Zzzz…”
The sound of cicadas drifted in from outside.
Yun Xiang paused, murmuring softly, “Huai Xu has come again…”
Zhishu beside her asked, “Is Miss feeling hot? Should Zhishu fan you?”
Yun Xiang shook her head, silent.
Her gaze shifted to Manager Zhuang. “Manager Zhuang.”
“Miss?” Manager Zhuang answered respectfully.
Yun Xiang took a breath. “What stories did Mr. Chen tell back then?”
Manager Zhuang listed the titles. “You’ve heard Master Cao tell several before. What Master Cao is performing now is ‘Rouge’ – the very story Mr. Chen told during his first time onstage here.”
This was a tradition. Every year on a particular day, Cao Fa would tell ‘Rouge’. For the teahouse patrons, this was an old, old tale.
“It’s an old story, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. But Master Cao does so each year at this time to honor the kindness of Mr. Chen. Because it was the first story Mr. Chen ever told from the stage.” Manager Zhuang paused but continued, “It became popular because of Mr. Chen’s telling.”
Yun Xiang paused. “It was today, back then, that Mr. Chen stood on stage?”
Manager Zhuang nodded.
Yun Xiang came back to herself. “Quite a few people remember Mr. Chen…”
Manager Zhuang seemed unsure what she meant, so he didn’t respond.
Yun Xiang glanced down at her hands, no longer as smooth and youthful as they once were, and sighed softly.
Now, she could no longer be called grown up; she was genuinely aging.
She wondered if Mr. Chen would even recognize her when he returned. Life was short, and Yun Xiang knew she might not live to see that day. Illness, accident… she might never see him again.
It wasn’t just three years, not even seven or eight. It could be ten, twenty years…
Yun Xiang sighed, feeling weary. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, sinking into a deep sleep.
Her mind drifted.
Here in Qingshan City, Master Cao remembers you. Ping’an Ruyi remember you. In Peach Grove, another young woman remembers you. And the small courtyard diagonally opposite…
How could he bear not to come back.
