Chapter Two: Struck Down Another One?

A cold wind, as sharp as a blade, swept away the petty struggles of mortals.

A donkey cart laden with firewood approached from the north, its wheels creaking over the ground strewn with fallen branches and leaves. The old man driving the cart raised his leather whip, occasionally lashing the donkey’s haunches.

Lying atop the firewood at the back, Lu Zhou yawned, his hands cradling his head. His eyes, untouched by the slightest wrinkle at the corners, were the eyes of a youth. Gazing up at the ashen sky, he quietly mulled over his plans.

Having come all this way from beyond the border, he could hardly show up empty-handed.

Back at Lingyun Pavilion, Uncle Master Chaolu had always enjoyed the wine Lu Zhou brewed, though the wine was mediocre and always loosened his tongue, much to the chagrin of his strict second aunt. After every drinking session, he’d ask Lu Zhou for a couple of sobering pills.

If he brought wine, Uncle Master Chaolu would surely be pleased, but Second Aunt was another matter. Yet, if he added a touch of desert cistanche, privet fruit, deer antler, and red ginseng to the wine, she too would likely beam with delight.

He just worried Uncle Master Chaolu might not be able to handle it.

If he didn’t bring wine and instead gifted pills or magical artifacts, those would be far too precious. It wasn’t that he feared Uncle Master Chaolu would refuse, rather that Lu Zhou found it wasteful. Though he’d amassed a modest fortune over the years, being a solitary cultivator with few expenses, there was no need to be so extravagant with gifts.

“He summoned me to Shenzhou City, and yet I’m the one bringing him a present?”

The world was in decline; even cultivators were not immune to the customs of the mortal realm.

Shenzhou City was just ahead. The distant sounds of bustling life were as lively as when he’d left three decades before. Drawing closer, he saw the soldiers of the Northern State standing guard, weapons gleaming coldly. The grim air of the military outside the city blended with the festive revelry within like two separate streams converging at last.

“Thirty years, and I’ve come back once more!”

Lu Zhou’s heart brimmed with emotion. He had spent the first forty years of his life in Shenzhou City, familiar with every blade of grass and stone. He had intended to spend his life quietly cultivating, untouched by worldly affairs or karma, until, at forty, his master Li Muru sent him undercover in the Northern State.

Thirty years as a spy, and now, after all his wandering, he had returned.

The old man called out, reining in the donkey.

“Master Lu, Shenzhou City is just ahead.”

Lu Zhou’s eyes shifted, the casual air of youth returning to his face. He leapt from the cart, ready to enter the city, when a clap of thunder suddenly split the air.

His brow furrowed as he deftly clutched five earth-fire talismans in his hand, ready to hurl them and escape underground at the first sign of danger.

“From the sound, it’s the Ziyang Heavenly Thunder Art... Someone is dueling outside the city?”

Focusing his gaze, he saw not far away a woman in a pale yellow dress, her bearing icy and aloof, suspended in midair. She formed a thunder seal with her fingers; a bolt of violet lightning crashed down, striking the man chasing her, scorching him inside and out.

“The path of immortality is lonely and long. Even if you strike me down today, I will become your Dao companion.”

“Get lost!”

Another bolt of purple lightning struck.

What a devoted, lovesick man—struck so badly even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him, yet he refused to give up.

For some reason, Dao companion fever had swept through the Daoist sects in recent years, but such death-defying pursuit was rare.

“If this goes on, someone might really die.”

Lu Zhou sighed and asked the old carter, “Don’t the city’s soldiers intervene?”

The old man shook his head. “How could they?”

Lu Zhou was left speechless. Indeed, there was no way to intervene—one was willing to strike, the other to endure. Besides, though the lovesick suitor was now singed from head to toe, his heart was still ablaze.

As more and more people gathered outside the city to watch the spectacle, Lu Zhou reckoned this would drag on for a while. He lost interest and entered the city.

At the gate, the city guards checked his pass, then respectfully escorted him to a carriage. As for the commotion outside, they acted as if nothing had happened.

The carriage sped through the streets, stopping at last before a grand residence.

Lu Zhou alighted, spotting two bold characters inscribed above the gate—The Chao Residence.

He took the wine jar out of his storage pouch, carrying it in hand as he approached.

The steward, upon learning that the visitor was Lu Zhou of Lingyun Pavilion, hurried inside to announce his arrival.

Soon, the main doors swung open and a figure emerged. Dressed in a sable cloak with his hair tied in the northern barbarian style, he possessed thick brows and eyes sharp enough to pierce the soul.

“Uncle Master Chao…” Lu Zhou greeted with a smile.

Chao Lu and Lu Zhou were on close terms. Seeing the wine jar in Lu Zhou’s hand, Chao Lu’s face fell. “Nephew Lu, after such a long journey, why bring this? I’ve been sober for years and no longer touch the stuff.”

Yet as he spoke, he could not help but swallow discreetly.

Lu Zhou glanced at Second Aunt Lin Suyun behind him and said, “Forgive me, Uncle Master. This jar contains not wine, but tonic herbs. You’ve worked hard managing Shenzhou’s affairs—you ought to take care of yourself.”

He gave Chao Lu a reassuring look.

Sure enough, Lin Suyun’s expression brightened. “Lu Zhou, you’re here! Don’t just stand at the door, come inside.”

Lu Zhou agreed with a smile, handing the jar to the steward before following the couple inside.

The courtyard was modest but meticulously kept by Lin Suyun. Vines climbed the walls, and a carefully tended flowerbed bloomed in the center, bursting with color.

Lin Suyun prepared food and wine, setting the table in the courtyard as she chatted with Lu Zhou.

Suddenly, the sound of Chao Lu scolding someone drifted in from outside. Lu Zhou hadn’t meant to listen, but Chao Lu’s voice was naturally loud.

“Another one struck by lightning?”

“Mhm. It’s getting annoying.”

A woman’s voice, tinged with cool detachment.

“How much trouble are you trying to cause me? This is the ninth one this month, isn’t it?”

“Tenth.”

“And you say that without shame? It’s only the eighth, and you’ve already struck ten! If this keeps up, I won’t be able to keep my post as commander!”

“That’s your problem. Are there guests at home?”

“Yes.”

“Just say I’m not in.”

“They’re not here for you—they’re here for me.”

“To propose as your Dao companion?”

Chao Lu nearly slammed the table in frustration. “It’s Lu Zhou.”

“……”

After that, Lu Zhou heard no more. From their exchange, he surmised that it was Chao Lu’s daughter who had returned—the wild, unpredictable girl, Chao Jiner.

When Chao Jiner was little, she used to pester Lu Zhou endlessly for stories of Lady Xia Yuhuo by the Bright Lake.

Later, her exceptional talent led to her being taken as the sect leader’s last disciple. The sect leader, never fond of Lu Zhou’s indolence, ordered Chao Jiner to cut off contact with him, and they seldom met after that.

Looking back now, it was a rather melancholy tale.

Yet there was one thing Lu Zhou still didn’t quite understand:

When Chao Lu said, “Another one struck by lightning”—what, exactly, did he mean?