Chapter 16: Fellow Traveler?
As the first light of dawn crept into the sky, Chen Yan lay on his bed, his eyes slowly opening. He reached for his phone beside his pillow and checked the time.
Six in the morning.
Last night, he had been engrossed in a novel until well past midnight. By his calculations, he had slept for less than six hours. And yet, his mind felt as clear as a mountain stream, his spirit vigorous as a newly forged blade.
If it had been before, he would have needed over ten hours of deep rest to reach such a state of revitalization. Clearly, after Vital Energy Circulation, his body had undergone a great transformation, its foundation now far sturdier than before.
Rising from bed, Chen Yan prepared himself a simple breakfast—two fried eggs pressed between slices of toast, washed down with a carton of milk. As he wiped his mouth, he lamented, [Toasted bread simply lacks the crunch and aroma of fried mantou slices.]
By the time he glanced at the clock again, it was already past eight. Donning his outer garments, he stepped out into the morning mist.
Chen Yan’s first stop that morning was the grand market for construction materials. He wandered between towering stacks of stone slabs and timber, carefully selecting a vendor specializing in decorative stonework.
Yesterday, he had made up his mind—he would not waste his strength as a mere laborer. To personally carve the stone for his Spirit-Gathering Formation would be a fool’s task, a punishment upon his own flesh.
He had already calculated. Given the vast size of the courtyard, including his villa, the formation’s foundation would require over a hundred meters of Green Stone slabs. To carve intricate runes over such a length, all by hand… he might as well wait for his house lease to expire first!
Thus, he made the simplest choice—ordering it directly from the craftsmen.
Each slab measured two meters in length, forty centimeters in width, and twenty centimeters thick. He ordered fifty in total.
He pulled out his phone, where two diagrams were already prepared.
“The stone slabs need double-sided engraving,” he instructed the vendor. “Use this diagram for the front—engrave it with deep incisions. The reverse side follows this pattern—shallow engravings.”
There was no concern of his rune secrets leaking out. The designs he provided were intentionally incomplete; the crucial segments had been omitted. When the time came for assembly, he would personally etch in the missing links.
Even if someone were to steal the patterns, they would merely be left with ornamental markings, devoid of true function.
The vendor barely gave the diagrams a second glance. These days, customized engravings on Green Stone slabs were nothing unusual—people commissioned anything from mythical beasts to intricate floral motifs.
He swiftly calculated the cost of materials and labor, then named his price.
Chen Yan, well aware of the greed of such tradesmen, attempted a bold move—he sliced the quote in half.
The vendor, smiling as if he had just pocketed a windfall, immediately nodded. “Deal!”
Chen Yan: “…”
[Damn it, I still overpaid!]
Cursing silently, he nevertheless did not attempt to renegotiate. The way of business was akin to battle—once the strike was made, there was no retracting the blade.
A deal was a deal, fair and square. If his inexperience led him to pay more, then it was merely a lesson for next time.
The agreed-upon delivery time was seven days—though seeing how readily Chen Yan paid, the vendor, in a rare show of honesty, admitted that it might actually be ready in five.
Chen Yan was more than pleased with the arrangement.
If he had tried to carve those fifty slabs himself, he would first need to study the art of stone carving, practicing until his hands were steady and precise. A single mistake would render an entire slab useless, wasting two meters of material.
Where would he find the time for such a cumbersome task?
Yet for the vendor, this was mere routine.
Fifty slabs? The cutting alone would take them a single day.
As for engraving? They had no need for artisans with years of training. They had machines.
All they needed was to scan the provided designs into a computer, create a digital template, and let the machine handle the rest. Each slab would be precisely engraved in moments.
The vendor’s factory had four of these machines running at all times!
Leaving the market, Chen Yan felt a surge of satisfaction.
[So this is how cultivation should be in modern times—leveraging the advancements of science!]
A thought crossed his mind. The texts spoke of spell formations being an arduous path, demanding years of grueling practice before one could attain even minor proficiency.
Could it be that in ancient times, the difficulty stemmed from a lack of machines?
Even a simplified, makeshift Spirit-Gathering Formation required such an extensive setup. If one were to construct something as vast as the Yellow River Formation or the Mystic Sect’s Hidden Maze…
The sheer amount of materials alone would be beyond comprehension.
And if the Formation Masters of old had to personally carve each rune by hand…
They might as well wait for the next dynasty before they finished.
With one major task settled, Chen Yan’s spirits soared. He made his way to a large wholesale market, intent on a grand purchase.
The year’s end was approaching—it was time to stock up on supplies.
Though the Old Madam was no longer with him, he felt no sorrow at the thought. This year, he would be spending the Lunar New Year alone.
Even so, he planned to return to his hometown for a visit.
Having grown up in the village, he had always been on good terms with the local folk. Minor disputes occurred, but harmony remained the norm. More importantly, when the Old Madam had passed, it was the villagers who had come to his aid.
The funeral couplets had been written by the Old Village Chief. The mourning tent had been raised by the hands of the villagers. Even the casket had been borne to the burial site by their shoulders.
These kindnesses demanded repayment.
Rather than meats or preserved goods—things the village folk had in abundance—he chose practical gifts.
A full carton of high-quality cigarettes.
Several cases of premium milk powder for the elderly.
He left the alcohol for later; it would be a hassle to carry onto the train. Better to buy it once he reached the county.
As he made his way through the clothing section, he spotted a fine black leather briefcase. Without hesitation, he added it to his cart.
It was for the Old Village Chief.
The man still carried an ancient, tattered bag whenever he attended township meetings. The faded lettering on its surface read:
[Commemorating the Victorious Campaign of XX Years Ago.]
Chen Yan chuckled. It was time for a replacement.
That bag had been around longer than Chen Yan himself.
He thought to himself, [I should get the old chief a new one for the new year.]
The Old Village Chief had always treated him well. When he was a mischievous child and broke the tiles on the village chief’s rooftop, it was the old woman who chased after him with a broom, while the old man simply chuckled, stepping in to shield him.
And when he got into university, it was the old man who arranged the transportation and accompanied the old woman to see him off at the train station.
The leather bag Chen Yan bought wasn’t anything extravagant—just two hundred yuan. In the village, there was no need for anything too fancy. The Old Village Chief only ever used his bag to carry a teacup and a couple of packs of cigarettes. If he gifted him something extravagant, like a high-blooded horse or some rare artifact, it would only seem out of place.
It wasn’t that Chen Yan didn’t want to show more filial respect, but…
[That money belonged to the Old Madam!]
The letter she left behind was clear—wealth gained through Mystic Arts was only to be spent on those within the sect. If he used it recklessly or indulged in luxury, there would be dire consequences. A curse.
He was her grandson, after all. And hadn’t they already spent years in poverty?
The massive warehouse-style supermarket offered a delivery service. Chen Yan had purchased several large crates of goods, and rather than lugging them home himself, he left his Cloud Lodge address, paid a small fee, and arranged for the items to be delivered the next day.
By the time he stepped out of the supermarket, it was well past lunchtime—already a little after one o’clock.
Feeling his stomach rumble, he found a shop selling marinated dishes, ordered half a roasted duck, half a pound of duck liver, and grabbed a few steamed buns before heading home.
When he arrived at Cloud Lodge, it was just past one-thirty. Strolling through the complex, he approached the villa’s gate—
Only to see a business car parked right in front.
Two men stood at his doorstep.
One of them, dressed in a well-fitted gray suit, exuded a certain professional air. Chen Yan recognized him immediately—it was none other than Assistant Yan.
The man had been glancing at his phone but looked up at just the right moment, spotting Chen Yan. In an instant, he put the phone away and strode forward with a friendly smile.
“Mr. Chen, I apologize for the intrusion! I was just about to call you.”
Chen Yan smiled faintly. “Weren’t we scheduled for three in the afternoon?”
The man looked slightly embarrassed but remained courteous. “Yes, that was the original plan. But due to some… special circumstances, we had to come early. That’s my oversight—sorry for the inconvenience!”
He met Chen Yan’s gaze and asked politely, “Would it be convenient for us to talk inside?”
Chen Yan gave a small nod and unlocked the courtyard gate.
As the gate swung open, the villa’s courtyard became visible in its entirety.
The walls surrounding the property were tall enough to prevent prying eyes from the outside. Once inside, a pathway paved with cobblestones led up two small flights of stairs.
Once, the garden by the walls had been adorned with flowers and lush greenery, but years of neglect had left it in ruin. The lawn, too, was withered in many places, dry patches of yellow standing stark against the earth.
Nearby, a swimming pool lay adjacent to the villa, but it was empty. Inside, fallen leaves and withered branches collected like remnants of a forgotten past.
Since moving in, Chen Yan had been preoccupied with his own matters, paying little mind to the yard—he was a young man, after all. Tending to flowers and pruning bushes wasn’t exactly his passion.
As for the pool? With the temperature dropping close to freezing in just a few days, who in their right mind would be swimming outside? He saw no need to bother cleaning it.
Alongside Assistant Yan, another man entered the courtyard.
This one—
Was difficult to place.
His appearance seemed caught between youth and age. He wore an old-fashioned tunic-style jacket, possibly made of fine silk, adorned with subtle dark patterns—expensive, without a doubt.
His hair was a pure silver-white, slicked back meticulously, as if held in place by some refined product. That kind of uniform whiteness… No one under seventy or eighty could naturally have hair like that.
Yet his face remained smooth and ruddy, with no hint of wrinkles—save for the roundness of his features, which made it difficult to tell whether his youthfulness came from well-preserved skin or merely being overweight.
Chen Yan took one look and understood:
This man was either a rare case of premature white hair—
Or he had deliberately dyed it.
His posture carried an air of arrogance. Not once did he glance at Chen Yan as he entered, merely following Assistant Yan inside.
Even as he walked, his chin remained subtly raised.
Through the courtyard, Chen Yan led them into the villa and into the living room.
There was no fine tea in the house, so he simply placed two bottles of mineral water on the coffee table before them.
The silver-haired man reached for his pocket, as if to take out a cigarette, but upon noticing the absence of an ashtray on the table, his brow twitched slightly.
Chen Yan pretended not to see it—he wasn’t fond of people smoking in his home.
Taking a seat across from Assistant Yan, he spoke calmly, “Apologies, but when we signed the contract the other day, things were rather rushed. I only recall the landlord’s name—how should I address you?”
The man straightened slightly. “Oh, my surname is Yan—Yan Zhao Xing. I work closely with President Fang, managing some of his assets.”
As he spoke, he retrieved a business card and handed it to Chen Yan.
Glancing at it, Chen Yan nodded slightly. So this was the right-hand man of President Fang, the wealthy investor who had purchased this so-called ‘haunted house’ and now served as his landlord.
“Alright then, Assistant Yan it is.”
He smiled cordially, slipping the business card away.
Truth be told, they had undoubtedly exchanged introductions during the contract signing. He had simply not bothered remembering the man’s name. Normally, this would have been an awkward oversight, but Chen Yan had long since learned—awkward situations only became worse the more one tried to cover them up. It was better to address them head-on, making interactions smoother for everyone involved.
Assistant Yan hesitated before speaking again, his tone more deliberate this time. “I do apologize for the sudden visit. But I’ll be frank with you.”
Chen Yan leaned back slightly, giving a look of quiet amusement, indicating he was all ears.
“This house… has its own peculiar circumstances. I assume you were already aware before moving in.”
Yan Zhao Xing spoke cautiously. “It’s not exactly a pleasant topic, but the issue exists regardless. After President Fang acquired this property, he took various measures—deep cleaning, renovations, replacing certain installations…
And, of course, we hired an Eminent Master to conduct a purification ritual.”
A ritual?
Chen Yan’s eyebrows arched slightly—
[Rituals? Now that’s a field I’m more than familiar with. It’s in my blood.]
Before he could speak, the silver-haired man beside Assistant Yan suddenly cleared his throat loudly, as if intentionally drawing their attention.
Once the room quieted, he finally smiled, speaking at a deliberate pace.
“Little Yan, perhaps I should explain instead. When it comes to these matters, you might not articulate them properly.”
Assistant Yan immediately nodded in deference. “Yes, yes, Uncle Qing, you are the master here. Please, go ahead.”
Turning back to Chen Yan, he formally introduced the man. “Mr. Chen, allow me to introduce—this is Uncle Qing, the Eminent Master that President Fang invited.”
Chen Yan looked at the so-called Eminent Master and narrowed his eyes slightly.
[Oh? A fellow practitioner?]
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation