115: The Zhu Estate

The mountain air was bleak and harsh. Even for cultivators, spending several months wandering these mountains was exhausting beyond endurance. Passing through a large county, he found an inn and booked two superior rooms. He ordered the servants to deliver food to his room and indulged in a hearty feast. Rubbing his belly, he finally felt full.

“Come here.”

Yi Fan’s ears twitched; he knew this was the Uncle Guyao using a secret method to summon him over. Such techniques were not new to him—he had learned many over these past months.

He arrived at the adjoining room. Guyao snapped his fingers, and a piece of paper fell into Yi Fan’s hand. “Follow what’s written here and help me buy some medicinal herbs.”

Yi Fan nodded. Running errands was hardly something he would make the resentful ghost do. It was a routine matter. Looking down at the list, he smiled bitterly to himself—Uncle Guyao really thought highly of him.

The herbs listed were few, but all rare. Even the finest apothecaries would struggle to find them. If they did, their value would be priceless, often treated as the shop’s most precious treasures.

Stepping out of the inn, he faced a bustling street. Crowds surged back and forth, vendors shouting their wares. Yet beneath this veneer of prosperity, many pale and gaunt refugees lay by the roadside. Passersby covered their noses, fearful of catching some ill fortune.

Yi Fan found someone to inquire about the largest pharmacy in the county. Upon arrival, the grand establishment bore the sign “Yu Family Hall.” Even before entering, a clerk approached him. “Daoist, are you here for medicine or a consultation?”

“To get medicine,” Yi Fan replied.

“Right this way, please.”

The clerk led him to a side room where an elderly man wearing a silk headband sat behind a desk. Upon seeing Yi Fan, the man only showed brief surprise before resuming his usual indifferent expression, not even lifting his eyelids. “Do you have a prescription? If not, visit the consultation room first before getting medicine.”

Yi Fan handed over the paper. The doctor glanced at it, snorted coldly, and casually tossed the paper back. “Daoist, are you mocking me?”

“Doctor Shan, please don’t misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand? The herbs on this list—don’t say Yu Family Hall doesn’t have them, even in Jinling they’re worth a fortune and never sold.”

With that, Doctor Shan waved his hand dismissively. “See yourself out.”

The clerk’s face darkened. Losing a customer meant trouble for him too, possibly even a pay cut. He wasn’t about to be polite to Yi Fan and tried to push him out.

Though some of the herbs on the list were indeed hard to come by, such harsh words and such a hostile attitude were unwarranted. Yi Fan disliked using force on others but refused to be bullied.

As the clerk tried to shove him, it felt like pushing a mountain. Despite his full effort, Yi Fan did not budge an inch. The doctor’s expression changed slightly. “Daoist, don’t think your little skills allow you to cause trouble in Yu Family Hall. I owe you nothing. Leave quickly before you bring misfortune upon yourself.”

Yi Fan glanced at him. The man’s forehead darkened ominously, and a red mark appeared between his brows. Smiling faintly, Yi Fan said, “Whether I am mistaken or not is beside the point, but you, sir, seem to be in great peril.”

With a laugh, he turned and left.

The clerk hesitated, unsure whether to give chase, but Doctor Shan’s face went pale with anger as he barked, “Get lost.”

…

Yi Fan searched the entire city but could not find a single herb from the list. Night fell, and he had no choice but to return to the inn.

“Still no luck,” he said.

Guyao didn’t take back the paper. Resting her chin on her palm, she leaned against the window, gazing at the night sky and murmuring, “The alchemical hall’s prices are too steep; we can’t afford them. There’s nowhere to find these herbs below the mountain. Could it be that we have to gather them ourselves?”

Yi Fan listened, both amused and exasperated. No wonder he couldn’t find any—they were considered precious even in the Supreme Clarity Sect. Ordinary people would guard such treasures jealously.

Hearing that Guyao planned to collect the herbs herself, he brightened. “Uncle, aren’t we going back to the sect?”

Guyao looked up, confused, then her pupils slowly focused. After a moment, she said, “That’s right. The sect leader did say to bring you back.”

“I’m not in a hurry. I’ve been away for decades; staying another hundred years would be normal.”

Yi Fan hurriedly added, fearing she might reconsider. Then he clapped his hands. “It’s settled. We won’t return yet. Let’s find the herbs first, and once we have them all, we’ll go back.”

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving a bewildered Guyao behind.

Only after some time outside did Yi Fan dare to breathe freely, fearing that if Guyao regained full awareness, she might strike him. Having spent this time together, he understood her well—a cultivator who pursued the Dao above all else. To her, nothing was more important than the Dao.

What exactly her Dao was, he did not know.

The world was filled with countless cultivators, each with their own understanding of the Dao and their own ways of pursuing it. Some acted fiercely and were labeled demons. Others employed strange and ruthless methods and were branded as monsters. Still others held benevolent hearts and sought enlightenment, known as the righteous path.

Whether demon or monster, very few could be like Guyao: steadfast in their personal Dao and ever seeking a higher level.

Such people had the advantage of cultivating at many times the speed of ordinary folk. The downside was their coldness and indifference, making them prone to offending others and hardly ever having friends.

Guyao was exactly such a person.

The next morning, Yi Fan led an old donkey with Guyao seated on its back, while the resentful ghost carried their luggage. They were ready to leave the city.

Outside the city gates, a crowd had gathered. Drawing near, Yi Fan overheard their conversation.

“Did you hear? The Zhu family is haunted again. Last night, the maid was scared unconscious. This morning, she was found sleeping in the bed of the third madam, while the madam herself was on the floor.”

“Indeed. The Zhu family has suffered some curse. The head of the family is known as a great benefactor who saved many lives and was beloved by all. Such misfortune is a pity. That hundred taels of gold reward—none of us are lucky enough to claim it.”

Yi Fan caught the gist of the talk and then noticed a notice posted on the city wall, seeking exorcists to dispel demons. A hundred taels of gold awaited success, with additional generous rewards.

Since he began cultivating, he had never lacked silver but was never truly wealthy. His travels only required him to purchase necessary talismans; he had little other expenses.

His cultivation relied not on medicine but on refining demons.

If demons were causing trouble, naturally he had to investigate.

He glanced at Guyao, whose eyes remained closed beneath her veil, and whispered, “Uncle, should we go see about this demon disturbance?”

Seeing no response, he took it as consent. He pushed through the crowd, tore down the notice, and walked off, drawing murmurs from onlookers. Some curious folk even followed.

The Zhu family estate was easy to find. Asking around, Yi Fan learned that over ten people were already stationed at the gate, having been alerted early. The leader was Old Master Zhu, a man over fifty but still vigorous. Seeing Yi Fan, he stepped forward. “Are you the exorcist from the notice?”

After some flattery, Yi Fan was invited into the Zhu residence.