“Since you do not wish to stay as a guest, I won’t insist,” the Third Hall Master said. “However, seeing that you travel the world and carry quite a complete set of supplies, I’ve prepared a bamboo tube of white mushrooms for you. Please, you must accept it.”
He held the bamboo tube and made a show of placing it on the horse’s back, as if worried that Song You might refuse.
Seeing this, Song You had no choice but to accept it, placing it in the saddlebag himself.
“Sir, don't underestimate these white mushrooms. They only grow in a few places—the grasslands of Yanzhou in the north and a small part of Yuezhou here. They used to be a tribute exclusively supplied to the palace. During times of peace with the northern frontier people, they would use these mushrooms to trade with us.
“The white mushrooms are incredibly delicious, and the northern frontier people always demanded a high price for them. Now that chaos has erupted in the north, even the palace is likely receiving fewer of them.”
The Third Hall Master, worried that Song You might not recognize the value of the gift and think the Changqiang Sect was trying to brush him off with something trivial, added earnestly, “When you eat them, soak them in water to rehydrate, and cook them the same way you would shiitake mushrooms.”
He added earnestly, “When you prepare them, soak them in water to rehydrate, and cook them just as you would with fragrant mushrooms.”
“Thank you, sir,” Song You said with a smile, addressing the limping Hall Master. “Sir, as your legs are not convenient, please stop here. No need to see me off further.”
“On behalf of the Changqiang Sect, thank you, sir!”
“Thank you and your sect for your hospitality,” Song You replied.
Hearing this, the Third Hall Master’s satisfaction grew. Song You then cupped his hand toward him and began his descent down the mountain.
The Hall Master stood in place, watching him leave. Only when Song You was far out of sight did he turn and head back to his quarters.
Much later, an elderly man sought him out, inquiring about the Daoist he had just sent off. “That gentleman…”
The Hall Master, who had been reading the letters, raised his head to respond, “He said he came from Yanzhou. He’s from Yizhou and goes by the surname Song. He’s traveling the world and, even with the war up north, dared to come here. So, I imagine he’s quite capable.
“Along the way, he found a number of letters sent from Liaoxin Pass, sigh, all written by disciples stationed there before they perished. You know most of our disciples have no parents, so they sent their letters here instead. Unfortunately, even those letters never arrived. Thankfully, this gentleman found them during his travels and brought them here.
“I thought, since he went to such lengths to deliver them, we should treat him well for a few days. Otherwise, it would seem like the Changqiang Sect doesn’t know how to host guests. But he didn’t want to stay long and just asked for a meal.
“So, I made a meal to properly host him and gave him some of the Sect Master’s treasured dried white mushrooms. It wasn’t much, but it was respectful enough.
“Why do you ask, Senior Uncle?”
The Hall Master noticed the elder looking even more astonished.
“From Yanzhou? Surname Song?”
“Senior Uncle Zhang, do you know him?”
“…” The elder showed a pensive expression. After a long while, he finally said, “Wasn’t there a rumored Daoist divine immortal in Yuanzhi City, who traveled with a horse and a cat, and whose surname was also Song?”
“What do you mean? Senior Uncle Zhang, are you saying he’s the immortal master who assisted General Chen in slaying hundreds of demons in the army?”
“I’m just guessing…”
“Huh?” The Third Hall Master froze in place, then quickly turned to look outside.
With a sigh, he gripped the armrest of his bamboo chair, as if trying to rise. But just as his rear lifted off the seat, he sat back down again.
By now, that man had likely traveled far.
Moreover, a meeting was fate. Encountering a Daoist delivering letters was fate; encountering the demon-exorcising immortal from Yanzhou was also fate. They had already met, exchanged words, and he had not shown any disrespect. That was good enough. What need was there to chase after him? Even if he caught up, what more could he say or ask for?
This much was already sufficient...
So, he sat back down.
Thinking about it now, he had some regret and some remorse, but those weren’t the only emotions he felt. Upon deeper reflection, he found it rather amusing.
As for Senior Uncle Zhang, having missed the chance to meet the Daoist, he was filled with regret and muttered incessantly under his breath. The Third Hall Master listened closely and pieced together what he was saying—apparently, last year, the one who exorcised demons across Hezhou and worked with Doctor Cai to treat the plague in Gui Commandery was also this immortal master.
Senior Uncle Zhang loved hearing such stories and telling them, too. For a character like this, he had long harbored admiration and reverence. Naturally, missing the chance to meet him in person was a deep regret to him.
This content is taken from freёwebnovel.com.
***
A swallow flew in from the distance, tracing an elegant arc across the sky before landing on the horse's back. It looked at the Daoist and Lady Calico, saying, “I just overheard them talking about you and Lady Calico.”
Before Song You could respond, Lady Calico spoke up first, “What did they say about me?”
“They said that you and the gentleman slew hundreds of great demons on the border of Yanzhou and on the battlefield between the two armies.”
“Meow!” Lady Calico was startled herself.
She immediately tilted her head back, staring at the swallow with a mix of urgency and curiosity, “What else did they say?”
The swallow wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear. After hesitating for a moment, it stammered out the conversation it had overheard in its own simple words.
Lady Calico perked up at any mention of praise about herself, clearly delighted.
The Daoist, however, focused on something else entirely—
Yes, some truths didn’t need to come from books or the mouths of others. As one aged and experienced more, certain things naturally became clear.
In most cases, rules weren’t merely limitations; they were also protections. The current order was undoubtedly the best the world had seen for humanity. Whether it would improve in the future was uncertain, but the past was certainly worse. And this order wasn’t easily won—it mustn’t be casually destroyed or reversed.
“Sir,” the swallow asked, turning its attention to the Daoist. “Did you really slay hundreds of great demons on the northern battlefield?”
“Where would so many demons come from?” Song You, walking ahead, couldn’t help but laugh. “Only a few dozen.”
“And on the Snowy Plains?”
“The Snowy Plains…” Song You recalled the prolonged battle in the icy wilderness, teeming with demons, before replying, “There were indeed countless demons…”
Thinking of the Snowy Plains brought his thoughts to Gui Commandery. Thinking of Gui Commandery reminded him of Doctor Cai.
Nearly a year had passed since then, and he wondered where the doctor might have wandered. Had he encountered any danger?
“Sigh…”
The mountains were high, the rivers vast, and even letters were hard to deliver.
Song You shook his head and continued walking forward.
***
In a teahouse in Guangzhou…
Doctor Cai looked much the same as before: hair white as winter snow, beard frosted like autumn frost. His clothes, however, were yet another year older.
At the moment, his medicine chest and travel bag sat to the side. He and his two apprentices each had a bowl of cheap tea, paired with steamed buns purchased outside for today’s lunch.
Meanwhile, a storyteller in the teahouse was in full swing. Many guests had taken their seats and were listening with great interest.
Though Doctor Cai, at his advanced age, no longer had much interest in such tales, his gaze drifted toward the storyteller.
“And the Demon King beside the Right Wolf King roared, ‘What’s there to fear? That Daoist only killed a handful of demons, and look at how terrified you’ve all become! Under my command is the mighty General Ape, with three heads and six arms, taller than a city wall. One punch from him—wham!—and that clueless Daoist would be nothing but a bloody pulp!
“'Excellent! Summon General Ape to battle!'
“Heh! Even the Right Wolf King was scared out of his wits!
“The ape immediately accepted the order—but not from the Right Wolf King’s army. No, it was his own Demon King’s command! Without delay, he charged toward Yuanzhi City! But ride a horse? Ha! What horse could carry him?
“What a sight he was! He was not some mere ape general, but a massive black-backed gorilla with three heads and six arms, each longer than his knees and dragging on the ground. Taller than the city walls? Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. How tall is a city wall? Four or five zhang? He was a little shorter than that—about three zhang tall!
“In one hand, he carried a giant cold-iron blade. In another, he swung a wooden club made from a beam he ripped out of a house. A third hand held a Qiankun Ring, the fourth a Divine Slayer Whip, the fifth a spiked mace, and the sixth a golden crescent saber!”
The storyteller narrated with great energy, punctuating his words with dramatic gestures, as if he had witnessed the scene firsthand.
“When he reached the battlefield, the demon was utterly arrogant, shouting toward the city walls,'Hey! Daoist! Come down here!'
“His voice was as loud as thunder! But of course, the gentleman could not be intimidated. He immediately went out to fight!
“And guess what? That massive demon couldn’t last three rounds under the Daoist’s hand…”
“...”
The storyteller was recounting none other than the tale of Song You’s battle with demons at Yuanzhi City, where he reportedly slew 1,800 demons over a few days. This event had occurred just this past early summer, and somehow the story had spread. The storytellers, quick to seize an opportunity, turned the account into a thrilling story, earning a fortune off the buzz.
Stories like this, at first listen, might seem like the ancient tales of divine immortals passed down from long ago. And yet, they had happened in the present day.
How could the audience not be fascinated?
Compared to these accounts, even fictionalized stories paled in comparison. Not even the northern battles of a decade ago, starring General Chen Ziyi as the hero, could rival the allure of tales involving immortals and demons.
It wasn’t just regular storytelling patrons who were drawn in—those who seldom listened to such tales, upon hearing that these events had occurred just this year in the north, couldn’t help but join the crowd. Once they started listening, they couldn’t tear themselves away.
The teahouse was packed, with people spilling outside. Storytellers across regions showcased their skills.
Those who could gather reliable information did so relentlessly. With just a few scraps of details, they could weave an exciting tale. Those unable to find fresh material sought out other storytellers, even traveling to distant counties to listen in, then tweaking the story just enough to make it their own.
If they couldn’t gather information or plagiarize from their peers, they would just make something up themselves, coming up with whatever story they could, as long as it resembled the real thing.
They had no choice.
At this time, stories about immortals vanquishing demons in the north were in demand. As long as they told them, there was an audience. The more vivid and exciting the narration, the more generous the tips. If they didn’t tell these tales, someone else would, and even their most loyal customers would leave for other storytellers.
But for Doctor Cai, who rarely entered the city, this was his first time hearing such accounts. He was utterly astonished.
He couldn’t help but recall several months ago, when he had first traveled from Hezhou to Guangzhou. While resting at a roadside tea stall, he overheard wandering martial artists speaking in hushed tones about an incident in the He Plains, Hezhou.
They spoke of an immortal who had braved the snow on New Year’s Day, venturing into the Snowy Plains to battle the demons and monsters of the snow kingdom for an untold duration. In the end, the immortal had sent word south to Pingzhou, borrowing an entire mountain from several thousand li away. Somehow, the mountain was brought over to crush the Demon King, leaving him unable to rise again.
It felt just like it did back then. He found himself squinting and listening intently. It was a feeling difficult to put into words.
If he had to describe it, it was much like what that gentleman had said when they parted ways in Gui Commandery, “Between heaven and earth, every encounter is rare. As we wander the jianghu, let us each strive in our own way. If, in a roadside teahouse or a city market, we hear tales of one another, it is as if we have met again.”
It was as though he had seen him. By now, he had encountered him more than once.
But with the hardships in the north, he wasn’t sure if his own stories had managed to reach that far.