Chapter 70: Acquiring the Scroll
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation.
The Great Fire Dragon’s storage bag wasn’t spacious, but it was filled with various items. Among the tools for making talismans, the bag contained luxurious goods like fine silk, pearls, and precious stones. Yu Zhao used her divine sense to scan the contents and quickly found a scroll emitting a faint aura of spiritual energy. It was about the length of an arm, with a greenish-gray spindle, and it carried a subtle fragrance. It seemed the Great Fire Dragon had a hunch about the scroll’s significance, which was why he had hidden it.
She carefully retrieved the scroll but didn’t open it immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze to the two figures on the ground, lost in thought. The Great Fire Dragon and County Magistrate Jia shivered under her intense scrutiny.
“If you can’t part with the wealth and power of the mortal world, then I shall grant you a farewell,” Yu Zhao said, her voice icy and determined.
Before the Great Fire Dragon could comprehend her words, a sharp pain surged through his dantian, as if it were being consumed by flames.
“No!” he screamed, his face paling with fear. His body contorted in agony, curling up like a cooked shrimp. He let out a desperate, anguished howl as his spiritual power drained away. His once-black hair turned white, and his youthful face wrinkled, aging rapidly.
County Magistrate Jia watched in horror as the Great Fire Dragon transformed from a middle-aged man into a frail old man. Shock and fear overwhelmed him, and he muttered, “Cultivator, spare me! Cultivator, spare me!”
“Magistrate! Magistrate! Something terrible has happened!” Just when Jia thought his end was near, a commotion erupted outside the main hall, accompanied by hurried footsteps.
“Magistrate, what’s happened to you?” The steward and several servants rushed in, helping the dazed Jia off the ground. He couldn’t believe he was still alive. Had the cultivator spared him?
The servants hesitated, unsure of what to do. “Magistrate, who is this elderly man?” one asked, pointing to the unconscious, white-haired Great Fire Dragon Immortal.
“A fraud, a charlatan!” Jia’s eyes flashed with a mix of hatred and relief. “Take him to the dungeon and await trial!”
“Magistrate, forget about him! We have a bigger problem!” the steward exclaimed, panic evident in his voice.
Magistrate Jia scoffed. “What could be more serious than dealing with this con artist?”
The steward’s face was pale. “Magistrate, the treasures in your storeroom… they’ve flown away!”
“What?!” Magistrate Jia could hardly believe his ears. Had he misheard?
The steward, on the verge of tears, grabbed two servants to support Magistrate Jia and dragged him outside. “Magistrate, look!”
One glance was enough to make Magistrate Jia collapse to the ground, his face ashen. He was finished. A line of pearls, gemstones, and fine cloth floated out of his storeroom, forming a dazzling dragon-like formation in the sky. The entire county could see the wealth he had amassed during his tenure.
There was no hope of keeping his position now; he might not even survive this scandal.
Meanwhile, at the pawnshop, about thirty people crowded the small backyard, yet it was eerily silent. Wang Youtai and Shopkeeper Qian, now freed from their shackles, remained silent, wary of Yu Zhao’s next move. They wondered why she was sitting so still—perhaps she was waiting for the magistrate to arrive?
Suddenly, a shadow descended from the sky. The onlookers blinked, and a scroll appeared in Yu Zhao’s hands. Wang Youtai gasped, “The family treasure!”
He instantly recognized the scroll as the Wang family’s ancestral treasure—the Cultivator Scroll. Shopkeeper Qian recognized it too. They exchanged glances, their awe for Yu Zhao growing.
Yu Zhao, however, was focused solely on the scroll. Even without unrolling it, she felt a strange, subtle connection with it. Perhaps this pull had led her to this small town.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the scroll. Her eyes widened in surprise as the painting revealed itself. It depicted a majestic mountain gate with a woman in a green Taoist robe teaching disciples. The woman looked remarkably like Yu Zhao, except for a small red mole at the corner of her right eye.
Who is she? Yu Zhao wondered, gently touching the mole in the painting. What is my connection to her?
For the first time, Yu Zhao felt a deep curiosity about her origins. She had always believed her parents had died in the chaos of war, leaving her to wander the world alone. But now, staring at the image of the woman who resembled her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were connected. If her mother was also a cultivator, why had she been abandoned? And who was her father?
Her gaze shifted to the mountain gate in the background. In the center stood a stone slab with barely visible words. Squinting, she could just make out the first two: Water Cloud.
“Water Cloud?” she murmured, committing the words to memory. It seemed she would have to visit the Hundred Treasures Pavilion for more answers. This unexpected clue about her past made the trip worthwhile.
“This painting is mine now,” Yu Zhao declared, turning to Wang Youtai. “Prepare another heirloom for your family.”
Wang Youtai forced a bitter smile. He had no objections to Yu Zhao taking the painting. After all, he had revealed her identity, hoping to exchange the scroll for his life and perhaps earn the cultivator’s favor. How many people ever got the chance to speak directly with a cultivator? Even princes and nobles rarely had such an opportunity.
But he felt a deep sadness at her last remark. He had squandered his family’s wealth and had nothing left to leave as an heirloom for his descendants. He clenched his fists, recalling the countless times he had lost everything to gambling. He felt an overwhelming urge to slap himself.
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation.
Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Shopkeeper Qian struggling to his feet. “Don’t dwell on it. The cultivator is gone.”
Wang Youtai glanced back, and sure enough, Yu Zhao’s seat was empty. An unexpected sense of loss washed over him, as if a heavy stone had settled in his chest.
Huh, why’s it heavy? He patted his chest instinctively and felt something round and smooth.
Spirit pearls! A large pouch of spirit pearls!
Tears streamed down Wang Youtai’s face. He knelt where Yu Zhao had sat and bowed deeply three times. “Thank you, cultivator, for saving my life twice. I vow to honor you forever and repay your kindness!”