Volume One: The Emperor’s Decree Chapter Forty-Three: The Eccentric Master and Disciple

The crane alighted on the narrow path outside the mountain, setting Liu Xiaoyi down gently. Before leaving, it even turned back for another look, leaving Liu Xiaoyi clicking his tongue in wonder. Never in his life had he seen such a spiritual creature.

Everything that had happened in recent days felt dreamlike and unreal. Glancing down at his neatly worn Taoist robe, Liu Xiaoyi couldn't help but laugh quietly. Somehow, this little priest's garb suited him rather well.

He followed the winding path, a clear river flowing alongside. With no horse to ride and no way to cross, he trudged unevenly along the bank, feeling a trace of melancholy. He had barely begun to taste the life of a wanderer before plummeting off a cliff, his life hanging by a thread. Fortunately, that strange Taoist had rescued him—could it be that fate truly favored him?

Where the river broadened and the land grew flat, villages clustered together. The busy villagers paused to stare at this oddly dressed youth as he passed by their fields. Someone even called out loudly, “Little priest! Are you off to pray for rain at the festival?”

Liu Xiaoyi had no idea what they meant, but he nodded regardless. He didn’t even have a decent map, only a vague sense that heading toward Tianwang Road was correct.

The farther he walked, the more travelers he saw carrying weapons. Although the Iron Dynasty had laws forbidding weapons in residential areas, such rules were only enforced in great cities. In these remote parts, no one cared much for such restrictions.

Even so, his attire made him stand out. Rough-faced men gave him a wide berth; everyone knew Taoist priests were not to be provoked.

Every time he tried to ask for directions, people waved him off, heightening his frustration. Once he reached the city, he vowed to change his clothes first thing.

Just then, a commotion broke out ahead: “Let go of me! My master will pay when he comes back! It’s not like I’m cheating you!”

It was a roadside stall selling wontons. The stall owner was gripping a girl about Liu Xiaoyi’s age. “A young lady eating and refusing to pay—this is a first! And as for your so-called master, someone already saw him slip away through the alley. If you won’t settle your bill, I’ll take you to the authorities!”

Small food stalls survived on slim profits—three bowls only earned them the price of one. If someone skipped out on their meal, half a morning’s earnings were lost.

“Once I earn the money, I’ll come back and pay you back, I promise!” The girl, now realizing her master had fled, grew even more agitated and tried to pull free.

Liu Xiaoyi strode over, grasped both their arms, and with a bit of force, separated them.

“Shopkeeper, whatever she owes, I’ll pay.”

The stall owner’s expression shifted at the promise of payment and he became much more polite. “A hundred and twenty wen.”

“A hundred and twenty?” Now it was Liu Xiaoyi’s turn to be surprised. “How much is a bowl of wontons?”

“Fifteen wen a bowl, and she ate three meat buns on top of that. I’ve never seen a girl with such an appetite.” The stall owner accepted the scattered coins, his face softening. Liu Xiaoyi, realizing he hadn’t eaten yet, decided to sit down for a meal.

With such a generous customer, the stall owner was eager to serve. But when he saw the girl sitting down as well, he frowned. “Little priest, if I may, you’d best stay away from people like her. If you hadn’t come today, I’d surely have taken her to the authorities.”

The girl tried to protest, but Liu Xiaoyi held her back. “Why aren’t you leaving? Do you have more business here?”

“You helped me out. Why not help me a bit more?” The girl clutched her stomach, her big eyes blinking charmingly, as if still hungry.

After finishing three bowls of wontons, she wiped her mouth, burped contentedly, and stood up. “Little priest, you’ve made a friend today! My name is Meng Qiaoqiao. Come with me to the rain festival!”

This place was called Shibali Fort, and the river was known as the Clearwater. Legend had it that if you traveled eighteen miles upstream, you’d find the river’s source—hence the name. It was most famous for its annual rain festival, where people offered cattle and sheep to keep the river flowing, and the villagers from miles around came to watch and join the grand festivities.

The rain festival lasted half a month, presided over by a respected local elder—a rare spectacle in the countryside.

Following the lively Meng Qiaoqiao through the narrow streets, her light green dress fluttering, she drew many admiring glances. Paired with a Taoist priest, they made quite the odd duo and soon attracted several would-be heroes seeking conversation.

Alongside the rain festival, local wealthy families held a martial arts tournament, drawing fighters hoping to win recognition and perhaps be taken in as retainers, ensuring a life free from want.

“Meng Qiaoqiao, I want to ask the way to Tianwang Road. I’m not here for the festival,” Liu Xiaoyi said anxiously. The heat pulsing from the golden dragon soul within him reminded him that he needed to find the Fire Seal quickly.

“Oh, is it about your scattered soul? My master can fix that—I’ll take you to him.” Meng Qiaoqiao grabbed his arm and dashed toward the riverbank, where a ceremonial platform had already been erected. A white-bearded Taoist sat there, sipping tea and resting.

The festival had not yet begun, and the old priest was dozing peacefully when Meng Qiaoqiao bounded over and kicked his bamboo chair.

The old priest tumbled backwards with a groan, reaching for his horsetail whisk, but Meng Qiaoqiao seized him by the ear and hauled him up. “Master, you didn’t pay for your food. Planning to let your disciple take the blame and land in jail?”

The old priest pleaded, “I foresaw an urgent matter, that a nobleman would appear at the altar. Looks like the time has come…” As he spoke, he scanned the crowd, finally fixing his gaze on Liu Xiaoyi.

“It’s him. Remember the person I divined on the road here? It’s him.” Master and disciple both burst into tears, leaving Liu Xiaoyi bewildered.

Though the festival hadn’t officially begun, many people already bustled about, carrying supplies or building viewing stands. Servants and guards kept order. There could be no doubt: this wiry, hunched old priest was the main figure invited to preside over the rain ceremony.

After murmuring together for a while, the old priest approached Liu Xiaoyi. “A scattered soul, yet you stand here unscathed. Strange indeed. Who taught you? How did you learn the art of gathering soul and spirit?”

Mistaking him for a fellow Taoist, the old priest’s eyes glinted oddly as he looked at Liu Xiaoyi, sending a chill through his whole body. Liu Xiaoyi instinctively covered his chest.

“Strange, very strange. Qiaoqiao, I truly can’t help with this. You must go to Tianwang Road and seek the Fire Seal.”

Hearing this, Liu Xiaoyi instantly tensed, his hand almost reaching for his sword.

“But there’s no need to rush. When things here are done, let little Guo from Tianwang Road escort you both directly there. Consider it a token of gratitude for your generosity.” The two exchanged a quick, knowing look—they had just been plotting how to get out of paying for breakfast. The master was a notorious miser, and his disciple had inherited the trait.