Chapter 8: A Day in the Life of Xu Guoren
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The capital of the Xu Kingdom, Luyang, was the most prosperous city under heaven.
At its heart stood the Palace of the Mortal Realm, sprawling over a hundred hectares, truly overshadowing more than three hundred li, shutting out the very sun. The architecture within soared with grandeur as if touching the sky—pavilions, terraces, and towers pressed close together, flying eaves interlinked.
The name of the palace—Mortal Realm—was no whim.
All under heaven knew that the highest level of cultivation, the seventh realm, was called the Mortal Realm.
At the palace’s highest point was built a lofty platform. The Changsheng River flowed beneath it through Luyang, joining the Lu River, where, amidst the mists, spiritual beasts danced above the waters. Standing atop the platform, clouds drifted close at hand, and the splendor of Luyang stretched in every direction, even the verdant mountains surrounding the city laid bare to the gaze.
This was both a sense of somber majesty and boundless vastness.
On the platform stood a small pavilion for the emperor and his ministers’ audiences. The emperor lay languidly, like an immortal, amidst four young and beautiful women, drifting in blissful contentment.
Not far away, a man knelt, black robes whipping in the wind, full of reverence, not daring any impropriety.
Soon, a voice, deep yet tinged with frailty and the weight of years, sounded.
“How fares Xiaoyuan Mountain?”
The man in black knelt on one knee. “Your Majesty, the Four-Stone Dragon Gate Array has lost its formation. No immortal to be found within!”
A fleeting shadow of melancholy and worry crossed the emperor’s face.
“I understand. Go inform Jiang Ben to continue... sealing the mountain.”
“As you command!”
...
Dong, dong, dong, dong!
“Sir Gu, it’s already noon, Sir Gu?” Hexian pushed at the door and tapped lightly.
But there was no response.
Uncle Chen guessed, “Perhaps he went out?”
Hexian pondered, finding something amiss. She decided to open the door herself.
The bedding was neatly arranged, the room empty. The tables and chairs were untouched, four cups neatly stacked on a tray. The only thing left in the room was a letter.
“Oh no!” Hexian hurried forward, her eyes sweeping across the letter. “He’s gone!”
“Gone?” Uncle Chen came over for a look. “Why would he leave? Weren’t we supposed to travel to Luyang together?”
The young girl pursed her lips. Was it because he found her annoying? Otherwise, why leave when they were headed the same way?
She picked up the letter, puzzled. “Is there a story behind ‘Three Men Make a Tiger’? Can three people really cultivate into a tiger?”
Uncle Chen replied earnestly, “There must be a reason. Even if this young man wasn’t from the Four-Stone Array, he’s certainly no ordinary person. He wouldn’t leave words without thought. If we can’t figure it out for now, with your intelligence, miss, you’ll surely understand the meaning of ‘Three Men Make a Tiger’ in time.”
Hexian imagined herself as a girl cultivating into a tiger—what good would that do?
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But thinking of Gu Yi’s extraordinary nature, perhaps, as Uncle Chen said, there was a deeper meaning.
“Never mind, I’ll ponder it slowly in time.” Hexian folded the letter and tucked it into her sleeve. “By the way, where’s Canlian?”
...
After setting out ahead alone, Gu Yi reached the county of Quanmen at the foot of the mountains within a single night.
People bustled in and out—some in groups laughing and chatting, others riding donkeys, reading books, singing aloud, among them even cultivators with swords at their waists.
“Steamed buns for sale! Fresh steamed buns!”
...
“Sir, have a look at these kiwis picked fresh this morning—eating them aids cultivation! Advance three realms in a day!”
...
“What do you know, kid! This book may be tattered, but it’s an unrivaled cultivation manual I created myself—a rarity in the world! Not for less than ten coins, and even then, just a look! Did you hear? Ten coins just to look!”
...
The lively air of the county was far better than the mountains. Gu Yi watched this vibrant scene with interest, when suddenly a dust-covered boy of seven or eight squeezed through the crowd, holding up a green bamboo flower and forcing a smile that nearly looked like a cry.
“Kind sir, won’t you buy one?”
Gu Yi stopped. Though he hadn’t been out much, he knew these were hard times; under the surface of flowers and festivity, many people had fallen into dire poverty.
“How much?”
“Three coins! Three coins is enough!” the boy shouted, breaking into a broad grin.
Bamboo flower in hand, Gu Yi entered an inn. He would spend the night here, and his stomach was rumbling.
“They say the immortal of Xiaoyuan Mountain is the cultivation genius of Xu Kingdom in three centuries. In the early winter of the reign of Peace, there were no gales, no cold snaps—the winter came later than usual. Surely an omen! Then—boom!—a tremendous crash, Xiaoyuan Mountain erupted with spiritual energy, beasts stampeding! That night, light blazed up, outshining the night, thieves fled at the sound, monsters bowed in submission!”
Within the inn, a storyteller tapped his fan, lips glib and quick, eyebrows dancing with the tale, his voice rising and falling, painting the scene so vividly not even a single punctuation mark could be trusted.
Gu Yi gave a disdainful snort.
But the people of Quanmen County were delighted, breaking into applause, some even shouting, “Wonderful! Splendid! Bring him a reward!”
“...And then, half a year ago, at the battle against Xiliang, His Majesty personally went to Xiaoyuan Mountain.” The storyteller cleared his throat and theatrically mimicked, “‘Let the immortal know: now, with Xiliang invading, though soldiers fight valiantly and ministers serve faithfully, the war is dire. The northern state of Li stirs with malice, bullying our Xu Kingdom, insulting our Yin clan.’”
The immortal replied: “The mortal world means nothing to me.”
The emperor said: “When war sweeps a thousand li, millions of lives are at stake, families torn asunder. Women and children anxiously await their loved ones—may the immortal show mercy!”
“What happened then, folks? What do you think?”
Every eye in the crowd shone, mouths open, waiting for the next part!
Pa!
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With a sharp clap from the storyteller, everyone shuddered.
“Moved by the suffering multitude, the immortal of Xiaoyuan Mountain at last emerged from the Four-Stone Dragon Gate Array!”
Clap, clap, clap!
“Bravo! The immortal loves the people! We should all bow to the immortal!”
...
“Don’t be impatient, everyone! Listen on!” The storyteller narrowed his eyes, waving his arm. “It all happened in the blink of an eye. In just half a day, by evening, the immortal had reached the border city of Bailiang at the frontier of Xu and Liang. At that moment, the great general Tony of Liang led twenty thousand soldiers to attack. The border city was hanging by a thread—the immortal arrived at the very brink, a moment late and the city would have fallen! He wore azure robes, rode atop a pink spirit pig—yes, a pig with wings, as the soldiers at the frontlines reported!”
Could such a thing be?
“This is no fabrication! He stood tall, radiant, hands clasped behind his back, like an immortal descending to earth—at once carefree and unrestrained, his voice deep as water, his bearing noble, truly a youth beautiful as jade, raising bright eyes to the heavens, as radiant as sun and moon, as graceful as a tree in the wind. To the ends of earth and sky, all would say—he is an immortal, not a mere man!”
“Bravo! Bravo!”
Suddenly, a stirring voice rang out. The crowd turned in surprise to see a handsome young man.
“As radiant as sun and moon, as graceful as a tree in the wind!” Gu Yi exclaimed. “I truly admire storytellers who stick to the truth. Well said, well said! Here, a reward for you!”
A chuckle.
In a private booth on the second floor, a fair-faced young master hid his smile behind delicate fingers. “It’s just a story. The soldiers on the frontlines only saw the figure’s back in the night—why is he so excited? How can he know what’s true?”
Beside him stood a lovely girl, “Maybe it’s his first time hearing it—he must be from elsewhere.”
An outsider?
The handsome youth’s eyes gleamed with calculation.
“No rush, let’s wait and see. Let’s watch him awhile longer.”
Quanmen County sat at the foot of Xiaoyuan Mountain; as the saying goes, those closest to the water see the moon first. People here had developed a certain pride—‘small county, proud people.’ In every conversation, Xiaoyuan Mountain would be mentioned, often with a touch of boastfulness.
For some reason, the authorities allowed this conduct. The wise said it was a means to lift spirits in times of adversity. Not only Quanmen County, but all Xu Kingdom spent their days hearing of court intrigue and battlefield losses, all the while yearning for the immortal’s deeds and dreaming of Xiaoyuan Mountain’s every tree and blade of grass.
While enjoying the commotion, Gu Yi became aware that someone on the second floor was watching him. Looking up, he saw a fair young man, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, smiling and waving at him.
“He’s noticed you, young master,” the lovely girl whispered.
The pale-faced youth smiled softly, “So what if he has? I’m just saying hello. Look at him—he’s young, probably still a virgin, don’t you think?”
The girl blushed, covering her mouth. “After tonight, we’ll know for sure.”
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